True friends stab you in the front.

Isn’t it just upsetting when a person close to us, someone we consider a good friend, turns out to be fake? This isn’t news to me–I should’ve known. Still, I thought we had a good friendship between us.

I do not have the right to feel bothered by what you did, which is breaking the starting connection or bond between us. But I am. I am goddamn bothered, because I have never done anything bad to you. I never backstabbed you, I never shared the personal stuff you told me. So, why? That is the question that lingers in my mind and I ask myself everyday. I was very happy I made a friend, despite my misanthropic attitude and introversion. But, you had to cut ties in such a short span of time. I do not know what I did to you that lead you to the decision of you blocking me in real life (this means ignoring me as I sat across the room; you used to just tap me on the shoulder and tell me a corny joke, now you can’t barely look me in the eye.), blocking me in every social media that there is–Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and possibly, if you followed me on Tumblr, you could’ve blocked me there as well.

It was accidental. It wasn’t my intention. But I was just busily stalking my old tweets, then I saw that you have blocked me. My heart broke. Why? Because I thought you were a genuine person. I thought you were actually my friend. I told you personal shit about my life, and yet you have the will to block me? Such a pity. I guess I never knew then. I wasn’t cognizant that you can actually do that.

So why, huh? Why decide to block me now? I can’t fucking imagine you holding your phone and smiling as you block me thinking I won’t find out; that you can get away with it. But I FUCKING DID. While blocking me doesn’t affect you in any way, I felt all the fury, anger, sadness, frustration, and confusion in the world. WHAT DID I FUCKING DO TO YOU FOR YOU TO TREAT ME LIKE THIS? I couldn’t have ever blocked you, no matter what shitty thing you did–because I am NOT a coward! I am an adult, who will try to talk things through until things are okay. But how can I ask you, when you cut all sorts of communication we have? It’s just sad it had to stoop to this level. I pity you for doing such a timid thing. 

A few hours after I found out about you blocking me, I tried to convince myself that I’m unbothered by what you did. But, as the sensitive and empathetic person that I am, I couldn’t stop thinking about every single reason that you had for you to block me. If you think about it, blocking isn’t that big of a deal. But I tried to picturing it in your shoes. Why would you block someone? Maybe because you’re annoyed at them, they’re posting spam, or worse, you hate the person. Could it be possible, that you hated me?

Are you proud of the aftermath of what you did? Is this what you wanted? For me to fucking question myself, every fucking thing that I did, to make me so goddamn guilty, for making me want to kill myself? Because if that’s your plan, you’re doing very amazing.

In return, I blocked you, too. I deserve some sort of revenge, even if it means you did it first. I deserved to fucking live, to ignore your ignorant move. You do not have the right to check up on my life and see me lose. You do not deserve to see what I have to say, to see what I am up to. Personally, I would like to hate you. But you do not deserve my hate. You deserve my nightmares, my overthinking, my anxiety, my suicidal thoughts, my fury, my sadness. Yes, despite what you did, I do not hate you. I am only sad because I fell for the false version of you that you proudly presented to me that day. 

From here on out, I wish you well. I wish you find your own happiness with you blocking me. While I pray for my own peace–that I may be able to find the answers and reasons on why you did it. I wish blocking me had done something good to you, because if it did, then I wouldn’t be as bothered. I pray to God that He may give You the heart of forgiveness and compassion.

Goodbye, good ol’ friend. It was a good friendship while it lasted. If you ever see this (which I doubt you will), kindly play this song: Godzilla by With Confidence. Listen closely to the lyrics, you will understand what I feel and you will come to know that that song is perfectly made for you.



She is as soft

as a cotton feather.

And as sensitive

as a baby’s skin.


But deep down,

Lies a monstrous soul.

Suppressing everything,

It grew to be mean.


The mask she wears
For other people’s pleasure

Hides the darkest corners

Of her mind.


At the crack of dawn,

The cover cracks like glass.

And starts to unleash,

The demon behind.


Now awake,

A little groggy.

It’s as if the monster

Had left her being.


But no one knows,

It’s always there.

Evermore, underneath,

Slowly breathing.


Battling the demon

Has always been tough.

They think she’s okay,

Assuming as always.


They’re not cognizant

Of what she actually deals with

A constant battle

That’s been going on for days.


Or weeks.

Or years.


Midnight Talking

You lie awake at night, 

asking the same thing.
Is this right,
to feel everything?


The voices don’t cease,
as if they’re playing automatically.
It’s hard to feel bliss,
the voices saying, “Can’t you be kind to me?”


Feeling melancholy,
you tell yourself that it’s okay.
Is this where you should be?
To live helplessly everyday?


One voice whispered, “Hey, shouldn’t you be gone?”
You retorted, “Do you think so?”
And it replied, “Should I give you a reason?”
So you pondered, should you go?


The clock strikes half past one in the morning,
But you are restive as you lie.
You await for people’s awakening,
and look forward for midnight to die.


Until then, agony becomes your friend.
Death becomes your acquaintance.
Life becomes your enemy.
Yourself is what you pity —


Until midnight reaches its end.