Birthdays and my unsolicited perception of it.

My viewpoint regarding the celebration that you’re getting a year older hasn’t always been like this. For the most part of my childhood years, birthdays are considered a momentous occasion for me. Your family excitedly plans where your venue is, how it will be designed, who are the invited guests, what gifts should they get you, and many more. As time went on, and due to a series of unfortunate events, parties are disregarded and set aside; or even worse, they won’t acknowledge it’s your birthday at all.

 

It’s not that I’m experiencing the latter part of my statement. I still do get greetings from those people close enough to my social space. And I’m grateful enough that I still receive gifts and paraphernalia. So, what do I see during my birthday? It’s the feeling of being lonely even after all the blowing of candles, the greetings, the hugs and kisses, the gifts. Rather than rejoicing and gaining the feeling of significance and joy, a shallow emptiness you can’t accurately describe embraces you. And this bothers you, as if there’s an itch you couldn’t scratch. And you start to contemplate whether you just feel too entitled or maybe, honestly, people whom you love and consider your friends don’t actually care enough for you. Not just friends, but even your own family.

 

You doubt your own worth on your very own birthday. On the day where you should be looking forward to getting older, but instead, this might be the reason you will end getting older. Perhaps, maybe I make birthdays too much of importance? That birthdays are just like any other day, except, it’s just the day you were born? Having a brain with conflicting ideas is hard enough alone. It’s quite a paradox–I think that birthdays are a milestone. But on the other hand, I also think it’s just an ordinary day that comes with a reminder.

 

So I promised myself that I won’t make such a fuss over a celebration such as my birthday. There’s no reason to overthink such event. That it shouldn’t serve as basis for my worth, importance, and happiness. Life in itself is a precious gift. I don’t hold what people choose to say or do on my special day; it’s their business, not mine. As long as I hold myself together, along with the right company and comrades, my birthday will remain a day with a reminder.

 

 

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Leave me alone.

You have no say in what I choose to say and do towards you. You have deeply hurt me, degraded my being, shattered my heart, used me like an object, and disappeared like thin air.

 

You have no say in what I choose to feel. This is the consequence of what you did. You let this happen and you know well this is your fault. You can’t blame me for what I feel after your shitty, selfish act.

 

You have no say in my putting a grudge against you. I am angry, I am disappointed, I am upset, I am frustrated. You have left me in awe and wonder and confusion.

 

My boy, you have no say in anything at all ever. You obliterated your own place in my life and that is something you cannot undo. Go if you must; but always know that you have no say in what I choose to say, do, feel, and my putting a grudge against you. You can merely watch from afar with your own judgment and regret. By your leaving, you also take your baggage with you–memories, paraphernalia, intentions.

A Phantom Hovers.

I still see you in everything I do. Walking in the park, drinking coffee, singing karaoke, swimming in the pool, watching movies at the cinema.

 

“What can we be doing at this very moment?” I ask myself. Will you kiss me? Hold my hand? Hug me out? Make fun of me? Tell me one of your stories? There’s a lot to do. But a lot isn’t enough because you decided to leave.

 

There’s no one to kiss. There’re no hands to hold. There’s no one to hug. There’s no one to make fun of. There’s no one to tell stories to. There’s nothing I can do, except to pretend that your mere shadow is with me.

 

You are not sorry for what you did. And that’s okay. I’m not sorry for writing this either. I am not sorry for holding on while you chose to let go. But as I’m writing this, maybe you let go a long time ago. Maybe you left several times and chose to go back because I love you and it’s just that easy.

 

Indeed, I am pondering over what we could be doing at this moment instead of me writing all of this alone. Your ghost haunts me everyday until I have to close my eyes and dream somewhere else.

 

You are not mine anymore. I cannot kiss you. I cannot hold your hands. I cannot hug you. I cannot make fun of you. I cannot tell you stories. There’s a lot to do, and that is to wake up from my fictitious realm and into the reality that you’re never coming back.

 

I should never again see you in everything I do.

Muling Magkikita. (Tagalog Poem)

Sa bawat araw at gabing nagdaan,

Simula sa parteng ako’y iyong iniwanan.

Laging sumasagi sa aking isip,

Naalala mo man ba ako sa iyong pag-idlip?

 

Ni isang paalam ay wala akong natanggap.

Basta’t naglaho patungo sa alapaap.

Kumusta? Wala bang balita?

Naiintindihan mo ba ang aking salita?

 

Nagdasal ng nagdasal sa Diyos na di ko pinaniniwalaan,

Upang ibalik ka sa mundo ng kamalayan.

Dito sa aking tabi, kung saan ang tahanan nati’y perpekto.

Sa kung saan nararamdaman ko ang pagtibok ng iyong puso.

 

Nag-antay sa isang walang kasiguraduhang pangako.

Pero sa dulo, tayo ay muling ipinagtagpo.

“Inantay mo talaga ako, ano?” Aking tanong,

Habang papalakad sa iyong puting kabaong.

 

Mata mong binubuksan sa pagkapikit.

Bibig mong habang buhay magkadikit.

Kamay mo na ngayo’y napakalamig.

Kaluluwa mong di na muling iibig.

 

Tumawa sa sarili na tila panandalian lamang.

Nagpapanggap sa sandaling iyon na ako’y matapang.

Malayo pa ang ating lalakbayin pabalik.

Tungo sa lugar na tayo’y nagtalik.

 

Tayong dalawa lamang ang naroroon,

Kaya’t doon ka ibinurol at ibinaon.

Magkikita tayong muli, panghawakan mo iyan.

Basta’t dumating ang araw na wala na rin akong nararamdaman.

 

— H.L. 

The aftershock—courtesy of you.

How do you forget someone whom you built a future with inside your head?

 

Funny how one mistake, one message, one circumstance, ends it all. How one thing leads up to another. One second ago, you were saying your “I love you’s” and the next you thing you know, they were your last. It amazes me and leaves me breathless.

Months passed, and I’m not going to lie, but you still come into my mind every now and then. It stings for a few minutes; going through the painful memory of what we once had, of what we once shared. But I knew better than to cry over something that’s becoming rotten to the both of us. So I fix myself up, dry my tears, and put my attention elsewhere.

I grew more cynical and doubtful over whom I let into my life after you. I loved myself more than I did before. I became more open to the thousand possibilities that the universe may offer. I have gotten reclusive, and I think that’s okay.

Walls are getting higher. Stakes are getting rougher. Heart is getting colder. Brain is getting wiser. What’s not to expect?

Falling in love with you and then losing you may have been the worst thing…but it was also the greatest experience anyone could offer. You have showered me with love, care, and attention for a short span of time. You have made me feel like a priority, even just for a while. But most of all, you’ve given me enough reason to become myself.

Melancholy as it may seem, going through the process of surrendering and opening your heart up to someone to being bitter, heartbroken, and lost, we can’t exclude the fact that we grow by it.

Don’t worry. This is just my aching heart speaking. I’ll learn to go through life without you. Someday, I will find the courage to blossom and flourish. I am my complete self, yes, even without you. You do not define me. And in the meantime, I’ll be busy rebuilding the future that I once built with you in it.

I will move on…in my own time and pace. And I hope you do, too.

There is no plot twist.

This year has been a crazy, wild ride. I was gifted with family, friends, and that special someone who makes my heart happier than it was before.

I’ve been blessed with the people who surround my personal space, with the talents God has given me, and for the adventures and lessons that this year has brought me. But, as much as I would want to give light to the positive things that I’ve encountered this year, I have been weighed more with each awaking moment in which I wished I was dead instead.

“Oh, but why? You’ve got everything! You ungrateful bastard!” You would say. Well, no. Even with the amount of joy that may have been granted upon me, the catch is that I will ALWAYS face its downside; that is, being lonely than I already am. You have all these people around you, people who support and yearn for your success, and yet, you feel so alone when the clock hits 3 AM. There’s no one you can count on, no one to lean on, no one you can call to talk about your demons with.

Not even the person you’re in love with. Sometimes, it’s that very person that triggers all of your emotions at once. And sometimes, you screw things up because these demons play tricks to the one you love. They’ll break your relationship, make you realize you’re actually better off on your own. The fact that you should be fighting off your own demons than to drag someone with you is already disappointing you. What a dependent, shitty person I am. Do I even deserve this person in front of my cellphone screen? Do I deserve his reply, even when he has none?

There is no plot twist. God knows I’ve been hysterically asking Him to make my 2017 a year I won’t forget. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist. There is no plot twist.

Still, you try to subside all these thoughts and feelings away, for the sake of the ones you love and care most about. Who cares, right? Put a mask. Suppress everything. It’s what I do best anyway. There’s more to my story, but it’s a surface I can’t break. It’s too deep that even I can’t fathom what lies underneath. What stories are yet to be told. No one’s willing to listen. So, I’ll keep them to myself until I die.

 

I wish I was dead. Or maybe I’ve always been dead with every passing minute. Or you know, maybe I’m dead now, after you’ve read this.

 

There is still no plot twist.

I finally swallow the truth.

An open letter to the boy I like but I was too late. 


Hello. You know that this is about you. Everything was goddamn about you. We were very close, though we started being friends through social media. An internet friend is a real friend, too.

I don’t know why it happened all of a sudden. I was fine before. Was it because, I finally met you in person? And it felt so good to talk to you in real life than through a screen? Well, yes. It is.

It wasn’t your intention to break my heart. The timing was just very wrong—even though I was the first one to break yours. Yes, I broke yours first. I hated you for liking me in such a short span of time, for asking me silly things and admitting that, in fact, you liked me. What was I supposed to do then? Tell you I love you? No. It doesn’t work that way, prince charming. I didn’t know you very well, and you can say the same about me at that time being. We were still strangers then. So, no, I didn’t reciprocate the love you gave. I threw it, because I was so unsure. I mean, who THE HELL were you?

But that all changed now. Years later, we finally met in an unexpecting way. Who knew? I though I’d never see you. It was good we remained friends, though. Close friends, to be honest. But, something in my heart clenched and my stomach swirled. What? What was it? I shrugged it off.

But, even when I jumped on my bed and laid there, you messaged me—”nice seeing you”—and I said the same. Wow, it really was SO NICE to see you. Because you are the boy whose heart I broke a few years back. I never did admit to you that I liked you, too, then. But it was just crazy; it felt like we were going too fast. So, yet again, I restrained myself at that time.

I’m really sorry if I didn’t give you a chance. And now I regret it. What if, somewhere at some point, I told you that I liked you too? Where would we be then? What ifs. They’ll torment you for the rest of your life.

So now, I accept my defeat. And my mistake. You have someone special in your life now, and I don’t want to interfere and ruin such connection. You deserve it after all the heartbreaks you experienced after me. I know I broke your heart intentionally, but you are breaking mine, too, right now, without knowing. And not because you wanted that.

It’s my fault I let you go. And I’m sorry. I’m glad we remain friends though and that means the world to me. You aren’t aware that I really like you now, but it’s better off that way. You deserve a peaceful and happy relationship. Until then, I wish you luck.

 

I can’t write right.

Sometimes I can’t write,

my mind’s being deceived.

Not sure if it’s right,

don’t know what to believe.

 

A blank piece of paper

stares intently back at me.

I can’t even bother

to write meaningfully.

 

It’s as if every inch

of creativity has been taken.

Maybe I just need a pinch,

or  a life-changing awaken.

 

Take me back

to those days,

when I don’t lack

the words to say.

 

A few drops of inspiration,

something to set the mood.

Using my imagination,

to write something good.

 

Perhaps, my talent is missing.

But, I can’t seem to discern why.

I used to long for writing,

letting every word go by.

 

I am thirsty to create anything

that will leave your literary soul

hanging, banging, jumping, craving.

Will I achieve my goal?

 

 

 

 

Inadequacy.

Have you ever had the feeling of not being good enough? That you’re never worth it?

 

Well, this day is one those days. Where I feel as if I’m running away from something that’s not there; something abstract, invisible. Lately, I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions. Questions mostly about self-hatred, dispute, and scarcity.

 

“Why am I not good enough for writing?”

Is one of the questions I ask myself. I have always been fond of writing ever since childhood. I used to make fan fictions for my friends, one-shot stories, and even “imagines”. Currently poetry is the bloodline of my writing “career” (if you can even call it that) and I still feel like my poems are shit. They’re absolutely no good, not well-constructed, a mess. Yet, I see other people my age who can write beautiful pieces with or without breaking a sweat–still, the point is, that if they can do it, why can’t I seem to? Is it because I don’t actually have the talent? Or maybe I wasn’t just really gifted with talent of writing? I guess I’ll never know. While typing this, I feel sick. Because I can’t use fancy terminologies or fix my train of thoughts appropriately and because of that, I know I lack the important skill of writing.

 

“Why am I not good enough for painting and drawing?” 

This one’s pretty obvious to me. I am aware that I am not great at painting (and drawing for that matter) yet I keep doing it. Just shows how much how hard-headed I am. This is kind of upsetting because I genuinely enjoy painting and drawing but my passion for it isn’t enough to fuel my creativity to be able to make mesmerizing art. I’ve realized this thought as I was watching a person paint a realistic painting of a person, with shading, lighting and everything, which is one of my greatest weaknesses. I kept comparing myself to her over and over; “how come she can do it perfectly?” “how can she do that?” “why can’t I do it?”. In fact, I can’t paint without a base or copy–which she can do just fine (but if I do it, my piece will surely turn out as trash). Sometimes, I can’t help but doubt my love for art. Maybe art’s not meant for me after all, considering all the weaknesses and cons I have whenever I make one.

 

“Why am I not good enough of a student?” 

As a student, I frequently ask myself this question. Why I’m never able to be the best top-notcher, why I can’t perfect an easy exam, why I can’t recite in class properly, why I can’t perform speeches or performance tasks in front of people. I’m always anxious, queasy, easily pressured even when I’m not supposed to be. I study all day and night because I want things to get done the soonest. Once they announce quizzes, exams, homeworks, activities, I do them as soon as the words leave from my professors’ mouth. But still, I don’t get the grade that I think I deserve. I even once considered myself to be homeschooled because people terrify me (since I go to a bigger school now than before). I feel them judging, criticizing, stabbing me in my back. I can hear their whispers, the roll of their eyes as I walk past, the uncomfortable shift of the world as they turn to look at me. I lack social well-being. In relation to this question, I ask myself, “I think I’m only good at memorizing stuff. But that doesn’t make me smart, does it? They have a difference, I know.” And I admit it to myself in the mirror. I’m not smart, I can only memorize–and there’s a goddamn difference.

 

With these questions, I tend to question myself and my abilities. In line with this, I scrutinize myself in the meanest way possible. I am my own enemy. Either I meddle with these demons, or I break free. There is no in-between. But meddling with them is much more fun because I don’t see one positive thing about being talentless. I want to be good enough, to be worth it, to be okay. Will I ever?

Having that said, I hope you find what you truly love doing, and being good enough for that. I hope you find yourself worth it, amidst the negative things that are choking you. Stay strong, reader. Stay strong, self.

 

xx

 

 

A magnet attracts a non-metal

I let my walls down 

For a guy who wouldn’t bring me up.

He said he likes girls who like pink;

But I’ve always liked black.


He searches for the sunrise, 

While I await for the twilight.

I let my feelings flow

For a boy who wouldn’t let go of his past.


I love his smile,

But he hates his own smirk.

He prefers his coffee plainly brewed,

I want mine with milk.


I spend my time alone;

Quietly.

He spends his in a bar;

Loudly.


But lastly…

I was attracted to a magnet, 

But I was non-metal.

I knew I stood no chance.


I still had my hopes,

My wishes, my dreams.

But, alas, I accepted it;

He will never be mutually attracted to me.