Minsan **** itinanong sa akin kung ilan na ang aking minahal
Na tila ba ang bilang na pilit ibinubunyag ang parehong bilang na ibabawas sa kabuuan ng aking pagsinta
Mahal, okay lang; ikaw ay aking naiintindihan
Alam ko kung paano ang paulit-ulit na pananakit at pagkabigo sa digmaan ng pag-ibig ay walang iniwan kung ‘di abo ng pag-aalinlangan at pagkukumpara sa mga bagong kasintahang ipinalit sayo
Alam ko ang lasa ng pait na sumasalubong sa iyo sa bawat paghinga
Kung kaya’t nung iyong tinanong ay walang magawa kung hindi ika’y pagmasdan Titigan ang bakanteng mga matang wala nang mailuluha
Mga kamay na pagod na kabubuhat
Mga labi na wala nang ibang alam bigkasin kung hindi “patawad”kahit hindi alam kung para saan
Wala akong magawa kung hindi ika’y pagmasdan
Dahil alam kong hindi mo na naririnig ang anumang salita maliban kung ito’y “paalam”
Kaya hayaan **** ipadaan ko na lamang sa pagyakap ng hangin at pagbati ng mga bituin ang mga katagang isinusuka ng iyong mga tainga
Kasi mahal, mahal kita
At hindi ako titigil hanggang sa makita mo ang parehong taong tinatawag kong akin Hayaan **** punan ng umuumapaw kong pag-ibig ang natuyong lawa ng iyong pagmamahal
Pagmasdan mo kung paano pagsasama-samahin ng araw-araw na aking pagyakap ang pira-piraso **** puso na nagkalat
At alam kong pagod ka na kahihintay sa mga tunay na bagay kung kaya’t pinipili mo na lamang ang mga “pwede na”
Pero andito na ako,
At mahal, pangako, tapos na ang pag-aabang
Hindi lahat ng nagsasabing mahal kita ay nagsisinungaling

Minsan **** itinanong sa akin kung ilan na ang aking minahal Tinanong kita kung ilan na ang nanakit sayo
Sabi mo, isa
At saka binanggit ang sariling pangalan sabay sabi “tapos na”

The first time I was ever made aware that something might just be wrong was after I watched the third movie that said so
I’ll let you in on a little secret
You see, Daddy never read to me
He never volunteered and I never asked because I didn’t know that I should have
He gave me books to read with my own eyes
And now, I ask why
But all I have are maybes
Maybe it was because he didn’t want me to hear happy endings from a man’s mouth
To believe that men are the givers and dictators of life’s ends
Maybe it was because he was never a fan of “the ends”, that if he was ever to tell me something at the end of the night, it would be “I love you” and not “goodbye”
Or maybe he knew me too well to know that I’d believe anything he said and those stories were not his messages, not the lessons he wanted to teach

I’ll let you in on a little secret
You see, Daddy never read to me
But every night, he would tuck me in and call me princess
So that I don’t have to wish to be like Cinderella or Belle and know that I already am one
He gave me books to read with my own eyes
And each were of a different genre
So, everyday, I would run and tell him that I wanted to be something different: a spy, a humble turtle, a Hardy Boy, a girl who could talk to animals
And each time he would laugh and say “You’ll find something new to be tomorrow, Princess”

Nineteen years later and here I am,
A poet, a dancer, an almost okay singer, an aspiring lawyer, and the future President of the Philippines (please vote for me one day)—none of which my father ever told me to be
Not decided by whether or not a prince came and said this was me

There’s a reason why story books are read before you sleep
Maybe it’s to help you dream of the next thing you can be
But also know that story books do not tell you who you are

You see, Daddy never read to me
But I never doubted if he loved me enough
Because I saw my Daddy slay the dragons himself and let me go to find myself
He would always remind me of who I will always be, but he let me decide what else there is for me

Ang unang pahina:

Para sa kauna-unahang nilalang na mabubuo sa aking sinapupunan
Sinasabi ko na sayo ngayon pa lang na ika’y aking papangalanang “tao”
Dahil alam kong dadating ang panahon na iyong susubukang alamin ang kahulugan ng itinatawag sa iyo
At nais ko na sa iyong paghahanap ay iyong maungkat ang balde-baldeng mga salitang nakalimutan na ng ating lipunan
Sabay nating tutuklasin kung sino ka nga ba sa isang mundong mapangdikta
Na sa bawat pagsabi ng “Magpakalalaki ka nga!”
Alam mo na upang maging isa ay kailangan **** maging tao muna
At sa unang araw na ika’y magpapaiyak ng sinuman sa ngalan ng “pagiging lalaki”,
Ay sisimulan ko ang pag-uukit ng mga linya sa iyong mga palad
Upang sa tuwing padadapuin ang kamay sa sinuman sa ngalan ng karahasan ay una kang masasaktan

Anak,
Gusto kong malaman mo na kahit di ko pa alam kung ano ang iyong paboritong kulay
Alam ko na ang nasa kaibuturan mo
Dahil tulad ko, ika’y isa rin lamang nilalang

Pupunuin ko ang kwarto mo ng libu-libong salamin
Dahil alam kong darating ang panahon na bubulungan ka ng kung anu-anong mga korporasyon na nagsasabing ika’y kulang pa
Kinukutsya ang bawat aspeto ng katawan **** di sakto sa kanilang imahe sayo
At nais ko na sa iyong pagising at pag-uwi ay di matatakasan ang tignan ang sarili sa salamin
Umaasang maaalala ang ipinangalan sa iyo ng nanay **** nakatayo rito ngayon

Tao,
Isang araw ay itatapon kita sa mundo
Hindi iiwan pero hahayaang mamili para sa sarili
Tandaan ang pangalan mo at unawain na hindi lahat ng likha ng tao ay tama

Balikan mo ako sa iyong unang galos.

Eight times
I thought of running away eight times
There were the days I never felt enough
Days where I felt like the intermission in between the main events
Eight times
I thought of running away eight times
But I always stayed because of you

You're my bestfriend
In case you didn't know yet, you are
I thank you for all the days you let me shine
For dying like the sun every night so the stars could come out
Never knowing that you were the brightest star that ever shone

I write this for all the days you feel less worthy
Allow me to remind you that your rays are the only ones I'd like to greet me in the morning
You are the only one strong enough to shine on its own

I was always the moon that needed the stars to go along
But you,
You could always do it on your own
And though sometimes it may feel lonely,
Do remember that once every few years,
An eclipse happens where the sun and moon finally meet

And although it may only be for a while,
Though we may not always find ourselves side by side,
Know that who you are and what you do continue to let me breathe
And for all the times you left at night in order for me to live,
I thank you and I'm sorry for not knowing what you did
I forgive you for leaving and I love you still

Here's a list of things I've given up on:
1. Hitting that high note in one of Mariah Carey's songs
2. Sleeping before midnight
3. Dieting
4. Add exercising to that

We met in highschool. Setting humility aside, I'd like to think that I was the smart one trying to head everything and anything that needed a leader. She was the new girl in our class who I sat next to and who would always give me chocolates. The first time we met, I told her we were gonna be bestfriends.

5. Painting
6. Learning how to beatbox
7. Not buying anything- and when I say anything, I mean anything- during a sale

I'm straight. Let's get that...straight. This isn't a story of how I fell inlove with my bestfriend. Well, I did, sort of. Because you can never really call someone your bestfriend and not love who they are. We were sisters who always made sure to fly together on our way back home and back here. We always brought each other along because we were a part of each other's story. She gave me flowers when I broke my heart. She told me I was beautiful but only in the right times because she knew that I never really learned how to accept a compliment. She held my hand although I relented thinking that no one likes to hold sweaty palms.

8. Staying within the luggage limit
9. Believing I'm always right
10. Pride

I can continue telling you the beautiful story of what once was and you'd probably prefer hearing that because no one really likes talking about endings, the places you land after the falling. Because it's horrible. It's terribly, terrifyingly horrible because you never thought you'd hit the ground. Because when you're falling, you feel infinite and alive that you forget to remind yourself that no one really lives up in the air.

11. Becoming a Dove girl
12. Acting like a "girl"
13. Crying

She told me she didn't want to fix it. That it was tiring and we should just leave it alone. You've probably heard this before from the lips of a lover but imagine it spilling out of the soul of your sister- the one who gathered all the pieces when he left but now, picks it up only to throw the shards at your face.

14. Calling
15. Telling myself that I'm okay
16. Being okay with just being okay

I'm okay. There are some nights that I remember her- how she hated eating vegetables, how she loved the color teal, all our plans of going to Paris just to eat lunch, all the promises we made and said we would never break. But do you notice that even in pinky promises you'd eventually have to let go? People let go because it's easier. It's easier than trying to find all the shards with your vision blurred because of the tears welling up in your eyes. People let go because people forget. They forget the first times. They forget that some masterpieces are made from mud after seeing those made from glass. They forget who you are to them and start considering who you can possibly not be.

17. Blaming myself
18. Asking
19.
20.
21.

She decided that I was a rock too heavy to carry still. But it's funny because as I looked around, everyone was carrying one. I guess, we just have to wait for those people who won't mind how much we weigh because we fit perfectly inside their palms.

Darling, enjoy the falling, but be ready for the landing and the crashing. Keep your feet straight and your heart guarded. Chances are it will shatter but try anyway. Because sometimes, there are people who meet you on the ground. They don't always catch you in time but sometimes, they do. And you will  breathe easier and you will finally discover that your lungs were not made for the thin air up there because it was designed to hold so much more. And one day you'll thank them, not just to convince yourself that you've moved on but because you truly, genuinely, mean it. Maybe one day, you'll even get to write a poem about them. It'll come. Trust me.

Here’s a secret about me:
I always look into mirrors whenever someone leaves
When a piece of me is locked outside my doors
Or when tears starts falling, I don’t know what to do anymore
I like seeing myself in my most vulnerable state
A time when I feel like mist let out of a tightly sealed jar,
I involuntarily tear myself apart until I am fanned out into nothingness
I like looking into mirrors to remind myself that my body did not disintegrate like how this feeling made it seem

I like staring at myself as I cry
Maybe to see the soldier who fired the first shot that started this whole war
Maybe to feel a little sympathy for the girl sitting on the ground
Maybe to realize that my tears will not reduce the reality of my existence
Maybe to assure that I may feel like shattered glass on the inside but it hasn’t surfaced onto my skin for everyone else to see

Because just when you think that it’s all over,
When the fighting and the screaming
The pointing and the blaming
The aiming and the shooting has been done more than it should have
And everyone else goes home to show off the skulls they killed their souls for or to simply lay their bones and pride to rest,
You get to stare at someone familiar right in the eye after washing the blood off your face
And you realize who your enemy truly is

And you start to fight a war no one really knows about
A battle that sets no time or date or emotion- one that simply comes
And it’s the most dangerous of all because it happens in your head and in your heart while you’ve been smiling all day long
It’s twisted and confusing because it canplllppidu happen even when you’re listening to your favorite song
And sometimes, it seems as if it’s over because you can’t hear the bombs go off
But truth is, you can’t really hit pause
People come along when the bullet holes start showing exit wounds and they ask you where they came from
You try to tell them but you think to yourself that the war doesn’t have to extend to another’s home
But even if you did, no one would really get it
And there you are with front row seats, paralyzed in your confinement cell you once called home, helplessly watching as the war rages on

And you scream for it to stop
But it won’t stop, it won’t stop, it wouldn’t stop
You’ve been screaming with your eyes closed for so long
That when you finally open them, you realize that you have brought the war inside of you out into this world because your heart could not contain it anymore
And you ask for forgiveness from the people that have fallen from the crossfire of your thoughts and your hands
You ask and you ask and you ask
But darling, maybe their forgiveness is not what we must ask for first
But yours
It’s time to shed truth to the lie that there are two sides gunning it out inside of you
Honey, there are no two factions, it’s all just you

So please, forgive yourself.
Forgive yourself for never trying hard enough because you finally started listening to the lies that say you were never meant for greater things
Forgive yourself for hurting other people because no one really showed you any better
Forgive yourself for failing to love because you’ve run out of heart to give
Forgive yourself for settling for less because you’ve grown tired of walking around
Forgive yourself for not always knowing how to fix yourself because who in the world knows how
It is only when you have come to terms with yourself that the peace you find can finally settle in
Forgive yourself because not everything's your fault
Forgive yourself because you have been forgiven
Find your worth in the One who calls you by name
You are beautiful, strong, capable, saved, redeemed, sought for, enough, and whole
You are a masterpiece, a warrior, a prince, a princess, and an ambassador of the Most High
You have been picked out of love to start a movement that will open the eyes of those who have glued them shut and chose to live in darkness rather than to see the war in this world

Let’s start a revolution of peace from the inside out
Where the young and old finally announce ceasefires within themselves
War becomes a foreign concept, no one would dare seek it with anyone else
Battles start when we begin becoming someone we were never designed to be
Find yourself in your Father and know you will be if you let it be
So if you want to call for peace in a world that has forgotten,
Child, first remember that you cannot give what you do not have

There is nothing worse than choosing to break your own heart. Because you knew that if you chose to stay, your world would shrink until it crushes you apart. There are things you simply outgrow, like shirts and dresses that start exposing parts of you you’d rather keep to yourself. Memories that have fallen flat, you become two dimensional reruns of the past. Wells you have run dry, you need to leave and start digging for new founts. But don’t get me wrong, you can always stay.  But if you stay too long, you may become someone who has simply stayed behind.

Day 1
The door was left open I didn’t need the key to find my way in. I saw the desperation in the darkness, whimpering that I see the lines and edges obscured by shadows left by the one who lived there before me. I swipe my hand across the walls, patting recklessly for a switch that has to be there somewhere, only to find my hands covered in the filth that have settled there for too long, it claims all the walls as its own. But I was right to assume that all houses have lights to be turned on, the brightness of which at first will be unknown. So, I reach, and I flick the switch, and I see it half-glow- tired and overused yet eager to bid hello.

Day 4
The boxes come one by one and I am careful as to where they are laid. No, not there, in the puddle of murky water. Not there near the hole on the floor. Not there next to the pile of used…I don’t know what those are. Too *****, too filthy, too unpolished. Place it on those three spots that have been wiped down and cleaned, adorned by roses and fences, maintained by the past resident to gleam.

Day 11
I can’t sleep. This house is too foreign my body refuses to let the air sink into its pores.

Day 29
I wake up today refusing to believe that the rest of this house will be any better. I am carefully planning how to reach those three clean spots without my toes touching any of the grime. I tiptoe, like a hungry teenager during midnight, only to smack into the door frame. And I see lines. No, I didn’t have a concussion, there were really lines drawn on the side of the door frame: 1982, 1992, 1996, 2008, 2014. And for some reason, I lay back on the slender piece of wood and I draw a line right above my head as well, 2015: 158 cm.

Day 56
I stepped outside today to catch my breath, trying to find the same air that filled my lungs 7,463 km away.
I try looking for the same sun. The dimmed lights inside is starting to engulf my soul that I refuse to believe that my feet would not plunge into the darkened floors, I would not move anymore. I look across the street and I see my neighbors trimming their garden. I realize that not all things are simply given, not all things simply sprout, the filth will not blow itself out, nor will the light bulbs brighten itself. It stays as is because I simply let it be. In this life, you don’t always get to choose how everything starts, but you get to decide how it ends.


Day 180
Tonight, I’m sleeping over at a friend’s. The house is bigger and has more…food. It smells of cinnamon and peppermint or something foreign. But that just it, it’s…foreign. My body can’t seem to settle its bones on the proportions these chairs were carved out to have. I start missing new familiarities: that crack near my counter that I turned into a mail holder, that small stool that always trips me up on my way out but I never really moved, or that strong scent of aged wood which constantly reminds me where I’m at. It’s not exactly the best. But it has a warmth that tells me I will be missed if I ever decide to go anywhere else.

Day 240
I haven’t done the dishes for almost a week now nor have I done any form of “cleaning” that my mom would probably start questioning life when she sees the state of this house. I’m amazed by how it still holds itself together instead of choking me with the loam I made myself. Thank God houses aren’t people who hurt when they’ve been hurt because no one really likes crying alone. But sometimes alone is what we should be to remind ourselves that our two feet can still hold us up.

Day 320
They ask me what house I liked better. My heart was still left in the other.

Day 350
They asked me what house I like better. I’m not so sure.

Day 428
They asked what house I liked better, I still like the other. But it isn’t home anymore.

You see, home isn’t always where you’d like to invite people to stay, a place built by love and dreams, or where your heart is. Sometimes home is made by your screams of pain, it has become a dwelling place for your broken heart. Sometimes home is where you only stay for a while because it cannot contain your wandering heart. Sometimes home is there simply to tolerate and remind you that you can feel, that you may have left a piece of you with someone else but all pieces can be replaced. Sometimes home is where time is the fastest and no work is done, a place that takes you places just by sitting around.
Sometimes home is where you don’t want to be in because you want to know what else you can be out there.

Darling, in this world, there will always be better houses but better is not always what we need.