i miss my jaded self. i miss the person who got hurt so much his only option was to bleed ink and cry poetry. i miss the dark rooms filled with only the noise of the streets below and lights from buildings across.

the alcohol stained floors, the cigarette butts on the floor, the messy bed, a sight i thought i’ll never long for but here i am.

lived in different rooms all over manila. different rooms but overall same angst. i miss them all.

as i look again in the mirror. a version of myself with content written all over my face and body. i let out a big sigh because soon enough, this face, this version of myself, will also be part of the things i’ll miss after a year or so.

i miss my jaded self.
and soon enough, i’ll miss this content self too.