"What is your greatest fear?" a teacher asked me.

"Darkness," I answered, and almost everyone in the classroom laughed.

"Why are you even afraid of the dark? You're not a kid anymore," one girl said aloud and the teacher told everyone to keep quiet.

I sit as my greatest fear is slowly trying to eat me.

It's not the kind of darkness they think it is. It isn't the darkness that consumes the light that I'm afraid of; it's the one that's in my mind. And they wouldn't know.

I'm afraid whenever that pitch black of nothingness is trying to get in my being. That darkness that makes everything go upside down.

And why should I be afraid?

I'm scared that slowly, by time, I'm getting comfortable with it. I'm afraid that one day, seeing light wouldn't be an option anymore. I'm afraid that one day, darkness will completely consume me.

But it doesn't matter anyway. You already gave your laugh.

---Thalia Bautista; darkness

I like to beautify things. When I write my notes, I'd always put colors in them. I'd always trace the letters to make them look like calligraphy.

I like to beautify things. When I see unorganized thoughts on my notebook, I'd weave them together and sprinkle some new ideas and turn them into poetry.

I like to beautify things. If someone feels bad about something, I'd tell them the things that are beautiful about them. I'd tell them that they are enough. I'd make them smile, until they laugh, because that is beautiful.

I like to beautify things. Even though he makes me sad at night, I'd still look at his pictures and somehow, they make me feel okay. I like to beautify sadness. I find ways to distract the demons. I grasp his photograph and stare at it until I fall asleep.

I like to beautify things — things, people, feelings, emotions. I don't like seeing anyone feel less beautiful. I don't want seeing something less beautiful. Maybe it's because I lack beauty, and seeing others being beautiful somehow fills the gap.

I like to beautify everything — everything but myself.

—Thalia Bautista; Why am I not beautiful?

I was never the first to anyone. Never the favorite. Never the beloved. I was always who they chose when they ran out of ideas. When they need a scapegoat. Or when they need a safety net. That was me.

No one would willingly choose me. And I don't understand why. Am I lacking in anything? Do I need to do something before you choose me? Tell me.

I've always wondered: why does no one want me? I can never be the first one my parents love, I'm the last they concieved. I also can't be the one people love, and I don't understand. I've done everything you wanted, yet still you choose someone else.

Can I ever not be the second choice?

100 stories from when we met
100 moments worth remembering
100 days with you
Grief and happiness
Two sides of the same coin
Two sides of our love
Two sides of you
You, me, and her
Lovers who lie
Love built on pillars of gravel
Love lost to another heart
One day
I'll forget your pain
One day I'll discover someone
Worth a thousand more
One day I'll find
A heart deeper than yours
To drown in