I miss some memories of people, 8pms next to a ceiling of November stars and random yo momma jokes.
I miss pepperoni pizzas and orange sodas of a meeting the night before an Algebra exam.
I miss some people who move to the United States, back to Mindanao, away to Makati.
I miss not knowing of a graduation until we sing that batch song one last time.
I miss her under a Langka tree with a chuckle next to the height of my left shoulder. She was measuring my happiness in the little talks and ringing laughter.
I miss wiping her tears as I helped roll her bag across the rocky road to a bus.
I miss being under the wings of God when I first met him through lion puppets and singing prophets.
I miss biting through those chocolate chip cookies after successfully reciting John 3:16.
I miss eating until the tummy says “keep going” and the candy bar bag was always open.
I miss crying when my yaya leaves me everytime I go to kindergarten. This was every single time I get down the school bus.
I miss smiling for a family portrait next to the Christmas tree.
I miss riding across a river with my little brother in paper hats and a floormat boat
I miss walking across a field of santol buds. Ruby to my eyes and to others who pick them.
I miss my panda bear. I could always sew the eyes back on.
I miss being young
But I can’t miss growing up and moving on.

she was a very bright girl
4 years old, pigetails laughing, smiling thinking the old kids were really cool.

she was happy
7 years old, one braid in each side always smiling noticing how the big kids put on a new layer of make up at lunch time.

she was smiling
10 years old, her big curly hair hanging loose she lost all her friend but she was a strong girl so she smiled even when they called her ugly or fat.

she was never making eyecontact
12 years old straight hair looking at the ground all the time barely ever talking, ignoring the kids calling her fat, ugly but it still hurt her.

she was never talking, never smiling and never taking out her head phones
14 years old, hair in a pony tail, having to redo her makeup at lunch time cause she cried of everthing while she sat in her locker she could easily fit there since she had been starving herself.

she had scars and cuts on her arms and legs
15 years old, she stopped carring she was wearing short sleeves hair hanging loose again straightened but teased, the kids called her attention ***** and pushed her around like a ball.

it's her birthday
today she would have turned 15 but she's not here anymore, she took a choice and left this world too early she wasn't supposed to be happy... not in this place, but she's somewhere else now somewhere better
everybody is sad that she left this early, but they didn't belive her when she told she wanted to leave...

*(c.m.h)

I wander.
Endlessly, I wander.
Ceaselessly, I walk.
Forever more, I go on.
How many ways can I depict my unrest to you?

Footprints are the timeline of my life.
Where I’ve been, the mistakes and wrong turns I’ve made.
The people who have walked in.
The people who have walked out.
They are etched in the ground, broken in by my feet.

Every so often, a second set of footprints joins mine.
Some go on for months, years.
Those are my favorites.
But they never really last.

Most dip in and out of my path.
Some lead me in circles until I have to leave them behind.
You never know what steps are the right ones
Until you’re looking back at them, behind you.

I wander.
I search.
I trust.
And then, I hurt.

Of these steps I am sometimes wary,
But the set of prints next to mine makes me sure footed, now.
I squint to look ahead, but my vision is terrible.
I can’t be sure, but it seems that there are many sets of prints ahead.

Strong, deep, sure-footed paths are carved out in the future.
Please, take me there.
Please, do not lead me astray.
I don’t want to have look back to judge the way you stroll by my side.

Do not waiver now; I haven’t got time for circles any longer.

12-
I dated a boy because it made me feel prettier than the rest of the girls,
I didn't want to kiss him because I was afraid I wouldn't know how,
I was eventually pressured into it,

13-
I didn't feel worthy of flirting with boys because I wasn't pretty,
I didn't know how to make boys like me,

14-
I dated a boy because I was insecure,
I thought he could make it better,
I wouldn't make out with him because I didn't know how,
I didn't want to be judged on my ****** experience so I broke up with him,

15-
I still liked that boy,
I often hooked up with him and began getting more comfortable with him,
But I wouldn't go under the belt because I didn't know how,

16-
I finally felt much more comfortable,
I didn't like him anymore but he was patient and I enjoyed being with him,
I opened up to him sexually because I wasn't as afraid anymore,

17-
I lost everything to that boy,
The one on the football team,
I didn't think I was special but I didn't think it would hurt that bad, I then discovered what it's like to be with a man who cares,
I finally felt safe

I was very late doing many things because  I was afraid I could not please a man,
Because  I grew up believing that if you cannot please a man you don't deserve to be pleased yourself,
Because men dominate the earth,
Because men are the all powerful,
But I have yet to find a man who can please *me