he is an old soul
but in a young body
he loved the old girl

alla piccola bambina,

I think I owed you an apology from yesteryears and years ago, no about ages ago. this will leave a huge scar in my chest for opening up the wounds of an unopened conversation from years ago.

they said that a single hi can open a lot of unhealed wounds. It can lead to a lot of mixed emotions. unreciprocated feelings and unrequited love.  

I was afraid of confrontation, but I learned to swallow my fears just to know everything. They said, the truth won't hurt you. But in fact, the truth sets you free. At least now you know, what to avoid and what to absorb, right.

also, before I change myself just to fit in the norm, the cycle
but now I learned that not everyone is your friend.
I learned to check the pattern, observe the loopholes
I forgive but I never forget.

when other people bullied you because of your appearance
there were lots of times that you tried telling it to your parents
but they said not to fight back
or maybe because it is true, you are really ugly
I felt horrible
those words lived rent free in my mind
That I also believe maybe it is true too

I grew up thinking that maybe what they said is true
I learned to become insecure of myself
why others are much prettier than me
that was when I resorted to using filters

when I started dating guys,
when they know I experienced S.A
they started taking advantage of me
started using me for my body
little me did not know, it does not equate to love
but abuse and I became a forced benefit of something I did not want and did not sign up for

to tell you honestly,
piccola, this is a very interesting yet controversial topic for me.
All my life, all I did was chase after solutions that also ran away from me
I asked for help, but that help was a mistaken identity, which turned out to be a desperate plea
a cry for help, I look like a damsel in distress
I just wanna be saved, is it that hard?
every time I made a mistake, I always look back and reflect on what I did wrong in my past
Maybe it was because I was not able to forgive my old and young self for being harsh and for tolerating them
I did deserve what I tolerate

But I broke free from sin, because of His Love for me
The song I first heard when I surrendered my worries and fears to God was "I just want you" by Planetshakers
The lyrics of the song went like:

[Verse 1]
More than a nice melody
More than the sweetest of words
This is the love I have found
And in this love I am found

[Chorus]
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You, my Lord
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You

[Verse 2]
Never could I comprehend
The love You so freely give
Never could I be worthy
But Your love covers all of my sin

[Bridge]
There is no greater love than Yours
Nothing else could ever compare
And even if I searched all the world
I would never find a love like Yours
There is no greater love than Yours
Nothing else could ever compare
And even if I searched all the world
I would never find a love like Yours

[Chorus]
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You, my Lord
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You, my Lord
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You Jesus
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You, my Lord
I just want You, Jesus
I just want You


That was the first time I experienced that
whatever the people wanted to tell me
whatever their opinion is
it does not matter anymore
their feelings are valid, but their words have no value to me anymore.

There is no greater love than yours, Lord I learned to please the world, only to realize, hate and criticisms are returned to me. But when I pleased God alone, the overthinking and criticisms minimized. Its volume are low. Because God's voice is plausible for me to hear.

little girl, I hope you do the same too.

the words left unspoken
are sometimes
thoughts left unsaid
but lives rent free in our minds.

I grew up independently
maybe it was a perk of being a second child
or it was just that they see a potential in me
that I deserve to do things on my own

maybe that was the reason why
I became a writer
a poet, a speaker, an advisor
a friend someone could talk to

the words I tell them
are the words I always long to hear
that how I wish
someone out there
will say the same to me

but I met someone
we were both talkative
when we get together,
our time is always limited
I always feel sad when it is time to go home
because of all the people I met,
he never judged my past
or laugh at my scars
or bullied me for my cracks

instead, he consoled me
accepted me and made me whole
I realized that he is my twin
my soulmate,
he was made just for me.

he understands me.
instead, he helped me grow
he is my walking dictionary
out of all the hundred men in the word,
who always reasons out
he is the only one, who acted out.

Ti amo, mio marito!

So let me tell you my side of the sob story, misery-of-other-people enjoyer, that is you, right?
When my life is a mess, you laugh
But when you got into the worst-case scenario, you blame me for your stupidity
Girl, I am not even right by your side by now
I did not even dictate you to idly enjoy being a laughingstock
You just stepped into the cobblestones of America, your brain already clogged
Your attitude already changed, your personality is already a bit ******
Who cannot even accept defeat and mistakes.
Girl, grow the **** up
Stop being a victim in the own mess you made
Stop pushing people in the own grave you dig
You know, that smirk of yours will only get you in trouble
Not now, but soon. ;)
When you yapped, did you hear anything from me? No, right?
You asked for help, did you catch a single complaint from me, huh?
But the moment I opened my mouth, suddenly comprehension fails—even your IQ and EQ too
You’ve got endless whining, crying over this, crying over that.
You move without thinking.
You act without a plan.
We’ve already handled it, and here you are, still trying to nag about it.

Be one step ahead of us, or you will end up being a pathetic and desperate ***** with a pathological liar ******* son.

In the beginning, the sky was vast and empty,
Sol blazed across the heavens,
Golden, fierce, untouchable.
Luna glided in silver calm,
Soft, distant, a quiet ruler of the night.

Day after day, they watched each other,
Burning with a longing neither could name.
“You are too far,” said Luna, her voice a whisper through the stars.
“And you shine too bright,” Sol replied, his light trembling with desire.

But longing cannot be contained forever.
On rare days, when the world seemed to pause,
Sol reached across the horizon,
Luna glided toward him with a gentle pull.

Their edges touched—
A kiss of gold and silver,
A fleeting embrace that bent time itself.
Birds froze mid-flight, oceans held their breath,
Mountains shadowed in awe,
And for a heartbeat, day and night became one.

“The world must not see,” said Luna,
Her glow dimming, reluctant to part.
“I know,” said Sol, burning brighter with love and sorrow.
“Yet we are bound to chase, to follow, to long.”

Then the world sighed,
And the moment shattered into shadow and light.
Sol withdrew, fierce and aching,
Luna drifted back, soft and sorrowful.

Still, they waited, always waiting,
For the next rare day when the world would pause again,
When the sun could stretch,
And the moon could reach,
And the eclipse would happen once more—
A stolen embrace in the endless sky,
A love that could never last, yet could never die.

Hold my hand, and let us wander,
Through the quiet of waiting,
Through the gentle hush of dreams,
Where every heartbeat calls your name.

I always wondered why my heart felt empty…
A hollow space I could not fill,
No matter how I chased the world’s standards,
No matter how I followed paths set before me.

Time moved slowly, yet every memory
Shimmered brighter, clearer,
As if the world itself paused
To watch our paths collide at last.

And then I found you.
Suddenly, the emptiness dissolved.
Every step, every longing, every quiet ache
Led me straight to you.

Oh, how long I waited,
Oh, how long I longed for you,
Yet each moment of waiting
Brought me closer, closer to you.

Every smile, every whispered word,
Feels like a dream, fragile and sweet,
Yet more real than the world around us,
A joy that blooms eternal in your presence.

Now, with you, everything is complete.
The pieces I didn’t know were missing
Are whole again,
And my heart rests, full and at peace,
Cradled in the presence of what truly matters.

What was once meaningless,
What was once silent and empty,
Now glows with the light of your being,
And my soul sings in quiet wonder.

Hold my hand, and let us wander,
Through the days, through the nights,
Through the endless rhythm of laughter and love,
For in your presence, I am home.

Oh, how long I waited,
Yet now that you are here,
Time bends, the world sighs,
And everything is as it should be—
A dream come true,
A song we live together.

Anne Lamott once said "Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you."

God's voice has not grown quieter, it just so happens that the world's voice has grown louder. That is the very reason why we cannot hear God calling us. He wanted us to be still even for only a moment. Resist the noise today. Unplug from the kingdom of distraction and Tune in to the kingdom of Heaven.

Do not follow your heart because Our hearts were never designed to be followed, but to be led. Our hearts were never designer to be gods in whom we believe; they are designed to believe in God.

The human heart is deceitful and cannot be trusted apart from God

Before this day ends, I will leave you an inspirational quote written by John Mark Comer:

"The solution to an overbusy life is not more time. It is to slow down and simplify our lives around what really matters"

I learned that, you cannot live at a full speed forever. Stop giving your attention to what is loud, urgent or unfinished. Start turning your awareness to the shepherd that walks beside you. Let him restore what's been depleted.

Does it hurt you when you appreciate the things I do for this family?
If not, then why can’t you be grateful for my efforts?
You turned me into a maid, as if the chores of this home are mine alone to bear.
Aren’t they meant to be shared by my siblings too?
Why limit their chores and reason out, "It was because they are still a student"
Then why leave everything on my shoulders?
Is it because I am unemployed?
All you do is complain, while all you see are my mistakes?
I felt like everything I did was wrong
I tried my best, but I think, I guess, it was not enough
Instead of scolding me, why not help?
I am built imperfectly, not conceived perfectly.
If you cannot learn to appreciate me… if you cannot see the heart behind the work I do…
Then you’ve left me with no choice but to leave you all behind.

Crocs are often found in swamps right?
But why do I see one wearing tuxedos, riding luxurious cars, living in extravagant homes, going to out of town countries and being nepotist that walks and talks in the office

Crocs are sometimes 🐊 but often times they are 👨‍💼👩‍💼

—breaktime|monologue.

When was the last time I roast my aunt?
It was maybe a few posts ago, if memory serves me right?
Oh well, I got this faint roast fever
When I cut off some slack and sense into what she does for now
I got a bit of kindness and a dash of forgiving vibe this time
But before, when she crossed the line
I could already hear her praying and calling to her saints to save her
When I come to approach her, she is already trembling
When I did not even do or say anything
Why so defensive when later on, you turned defenseless
She picked someone her own size, she thought this girl will not fight back
But she thought wrong
She thought I was just joking but did she even see me ******* stutter? No.
But I was just warming up.
Hell is prepared for you anytime soon, you know?
I asked you to repent your sins but you said you don't have one
Girl, you are literally digging your own grave
I am not helping you out, but instead, bring this shovel with you okay?
We already buried you deep within, do not crawl your way out anymore
Nobody is here to welcome you with open arms.
The so-called son you say, benefits you in the meantime
But when he is so fed up of you and starts to outgrow you,
He will just leave you behind
Your family who helped save you,
reached out our hands to come and get you
Because you do not know how to swim, we do too
But what did you do in return? You pushed us to sea and let us be drowned.
Karma will come knocking on your door
I did not pay revenge for your wickedness, Karma will do its jobs
Take note as well, the wheel is round, no sides. Today, you are on top,
the next day, you are trampled down.

English:

You know what the most painful slap is? Not the slap of a hand, quick and sharp, the kind that leaves a mark you can wash off. No… the real slap is reality itself. Cold. Unforgiving. Merciless. The kind that hits when you’re standing tall, thinking you’re invincible, and suddenly the world yanks the rug out from under you.

I finally realized just how cruel life can be when you have no money. Suddenly, everywhere you go, everything you touch, every single step you take, every decision you make… it has a price. Every dream you nurture, every plan you hatch… all of it comes with a tag: “paid in cash or not at all.” And you realize… you don’t have it. Not today, not tomorrow, not maybe even ever.

It’s a slap that leaves no bruise on your skin, but one that bruises your soul. It hits in ways you never imagined. You feel it in your chest, in your gut, in the hollowness of your pockets and the heaviness in your hands. Talent alone doesn’t matter. Effort alone doesn’t matter. Desire alone doesn’t matter. You can be brilliant, hardworking, relentless—but without money, the world doesn’t even see you.

And yet… maybe the cruelest part isn’t just for you. Maybe the hardest truth is that there are so many who live like this every day, who wake up hoping, who try, who fight—and still the world turns its back on them. You look at them and feel that shared ache, that collective bruise on the soul. You realize you’re not alone in this, and yet… that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

The truth stares at you from every corner. The café you wanted to sit in, the bus you need to ride, the dreams you want to chase… all of it demands what you don’t have. And suddenly, the illusion of freedom, the idea that life will reward the good and the hardworking… it shatters. You feel small. Invisible. Replaceable. And in that moment, your heart reaches out silently to everyone else who’s been knocked down the same way.

And it hurts. Oh, it hurts like nothing else. Because as you grow up, as you learn, as you fight, you realize that life isn’t fair. That life doesn’t bend for anyone. That even the brightest soul, the fiercest heart, the most daring spirit… if it’s not backed by money, it’s treated like it’s worthless.

But maybe… maybe this is where courage is born. Maybe this is where survival is forged. You learn to fight with what little you have. You learn to be clever when the world tries to crush you. You learn to stockpile knowledge, to sharpen your instincts, to build strength from scraps. And maybe, just maybe, in this shared struggle, you find empathy—for yourself, for others, for anyone who’s ever felt invisible, unheard, unseen.

Because one day… one day, even if reality keeps slapping you down, even if the world seems determined to keep you small, you will rise. And in rising, you carry with you the memory of those bruises—not as shame, not as weakness—but as proof that you survived. You will rise and take what you’re owed—even if it’s a place the world tried to deny you.

Life is brutal. Life is unfair. Life is relentless. But in its cruelty, it teaches you to endure. In its coldness, it teaches you to become sharper, stronger, harder. And maybe… maybe one day, that slap that once broke you will be the very thing that allows you to extend a hand to someone else, the way someone once needed to reach for you.

Because empathy doesn’t soften reality—it strengthens you. And it reminds you that no one has to face it alone.

Tagalog version (mas dama mo trust me):

Alam mo ba kung ano ang pinaka-masakit na sampal? Hindi yung sampal ng kamay—yung mabilis at matalim na minsang nag-iiwan ng marka na kusang nawawala. Hindi… yung tunay na sampal ay yung hatid ng realidad. Malamig. Walang awa. Matigas. Yung biglang hihila sa’yo mula sa pedestal mo, at ipapakita sa’yo na ang mundo… hindi ito nag-aalaga sa mga pangarap mo, sa talento mo, sa sipag mo.

Na-realize ko lang kung gaano kasakit ang buhay kapag wala kang pera. Bigla kang maiiwan sa gitna ng lahat, at bawat hakbang mo, bawat desisyon mo, bawat pangarap na pinanghahawakan mo… lahat may presyo. Kahit saan ka tumingin, kahit anong subukan **** gawin—lahat may paalala: “Pera lang ang sagot.”

At masasampal ka. Hindi sa balat, kundi sa puso, sa tiyan, sa kaluluwa. Ang galing mo, ang sipag mo, ang ambisyon mo… hindi mahalaga kung wala kang pera. Parang mundo’y hindi ka nakikita, parang wala kang karapatan.

At siguro… pinakamalupit sa lahat, hindi lang para sa’yo ito. Maraming tao ang ganito ang dinaranas bawat araw. Gumigising, nagsusumikap, nangangarap… pero tinitiis ng mundo na sila’y hindi pansinin. Ramdam mo ang sama ng loob nila, ramdam mo ang sakit… at kahit ramdam mo na hindi ka nag-iisa, hindi pa rin nababawasan ang kirot.

Lahat ng paligid mo, kahit simpleng kape, kahit bus na sasakyan mo, kahit mga pangarap na pinapangarap mo—lahat may presyo. At bigla, naiinip ka sa ilusyon ng kalayaan, sa paniniwala na ang sipag at kabutihan ay gagantimpalaan. Parang napakaliit mo. Parang wala ka. Parang napapalitan. At sa sandaling iyon, naiisip mo rin ang lahat ng tao na natapakan sa parehong paraan.

Masakit. Sobrang sakit. Kasi habang lumalaki ka, natututo ka, nakikipaglaban ka… malalaman mo na hindi patas ang buhay. Hindi ito yumuyuko para sa kahit sino. Kahit gaano ka-katalino, kahit gaano ka-tapang, kahit gaano ka-determinado… kung wala kang pera, parang wala kang halaga.

Pero siguro… dito nagsisimula ang tapang. Dito rin natututo kang makipaglaban sa kaunting mayroon ka. Natututo kang maging matalino kahit sinusubok ka ng mundo. Natututo kang mag-ipon ng lakas, ng kaalaman, ng karanasan. At siguro, sa parehong hirap na ito, natututo ka rin ng empatiya—para sa sarili mo, para sa iba, para sa sinumang nararamdaman ang invisibility at kawalang-pansin.

Dahil darating din ang araw… darating ang araw na kahit patuloy kang binabagsak ng realidad, kahit ang mundo’y tila ayaw kang makita, babangon ka. At sa pagbangon mo, dala mo ang alaala ng mga sugat—hindi bilang kahinaan, kundi bilang patunay na nakaligtas ka. Babangon ka at kukunin ang karapatan mo—kahit pilit itong itinanggi sa’yo ng mundo.

Brutal ang buhay. Hindi patas. Walang awa. Pero sa kabagsikan nito, natututo kang tiisin. Sa lamig nito, natututo kang maging matatag. At siguro… darating ang araw na yung sampal na minsan ay bumagsak sa’yo, ang siyang magtuturo sa’yo na mag-abot ng kamay sa iba, kagaya ng mga taong minsang dapat umabot sa’yo.

Dahil ang empatiya… hindi nagpapalambot ng realidad. Pinapalakas ka nito. At pinapaalala sa’yo na hindi kailangang harapin ito nang mag-isa.

There’s nothing wrong with trying colors that suit you.
But do you know what is wrong?
Judging them, saying they don’t suit you.

There’s nothing wrong with the meal I made—
Judge your own tongue, we got different preferences.

There’s nothing wrong with my taste, my style.
You know? It feels good to be comfortable in my own skin.
I exude confidence. You? You breathe hate and envy.

Nobody gets the style of my hair.
You laugh at it.
My hair? It weeps for me.

My hair and I go way back.
We got histories. Pity. Sob stories.
But it’s ours. And it’s beautiful.

What if I jump from the top of a building—will Satan catch me? No.
But God will. In every fall, He is there to catch you.
In every rise, He is still there—right by your side,
sitting front row in the benches of your life, even when no one else dares to support you.

Will Satan stop me? Will he hold back? No.
But God does. He will encourage you not to jump from there, instead, he'd say "Child, come to me and I will renew you, restore you and get rid of your worries and problems."
God does not need a perfect child, a perfect sinner who knows how to acknowledge his mistakes and confesses his sins makes you worthy
God wants you to live a righteous life in Him, not a righteous life for the world to please.

You do not want the world to see you because they would not understand your pain,
Turn your pain into faith, confess to God,
He will not judge you. Instead, he will console you, he will make you forget it and start a new life.

If the world turns its back on you, who will you call?
If everyone has a thousand excuses, alibis, reasons not to care,
God never falters. He never abandoned us; it is we who turned away,
chasing the fleeting pleasures of the world, ignoring our Creator,
blinded by pride, deaf to His knocks, blind to every sign.
Even when life crushes us, hardens our hearts, makes us bitter instead of humble—He remains.

What if I slash my wrists, or slit my throat—will Satan stop me? No.
He will whisper, ******, encourage you to believe pain is stronger than hope.
But God reminds us: why choose fleeting relief, when His embrace feels like home, not torture?
Temporary coping mechanisms are poisoned—they fade, they steal joy, they promise freedom but deliver eternal suffering.
Lay your burdens at His feet. Let Him carry the weight too heavy for mortal hands, because He is the Good Shepherd who never fails.

What if I pull the trigger, or coil a rope around my neck—like a snake tightening its grip—will Satan stop me? No.
He will let that trigger bang, he will coil the rope tighter,
stealing the borrowed life God lent you.
But God will not let you destroy yourself.
He calms your mind, stills your restless heart, removes nightmares,
guides your steps so you may sleep without fear, so you may rise without despair.

What if I resort to vices—drown myself in alcohol, waste my life in drugs, give out my lungs in cigarettes, lose my sanity in gambling—will Satan stop me? No.
Instead, he will join you, cheer on your wins, laugh in your losses.
But God? He does not want His children harmed.
He will prune your life, give you sufferings and challenges, so you can see with your own eyes, hear with your own ears, speak with your own mouth, and utter the words:
“God did this to save my soul, not to make me suffer more.”

What if I question God—will Satan stop me? No.
He encourages doubt, mistrust, despair.
Satan never dares to question God himself—he uses us, twisting our hearts, planting lies, pushing us to doubt the One who holds eternity in His hands.
To question God is to bark up the wrong tree, to chase shadows, to embrace ruin.

Just like those who sought to crucify Him, who placed Pontius Pilate in the seat of judgment—
we are tempted to misplace trust, to forget where true salvation lies.
Even in our rebellion, in our deafness, in our darkest despair,
God’s hand is there. Waiting. Watching. Ready to catch us when we fall—because He never left.

I look around me,
and I see stories written in scars.

My cousin,
the one who curses the name above all names,
who spits out words like daggers,
calling Him a mere man,
boasting with a smirk that hell is his destination.
I wonder—
is it really confidence, or is it a shield?
Because no one dreams of fire,
no one longs for chains,
yet he clings to disbelief like it’s his only comfort.
Maybe because his world was shattered before he even knew how to dream.
Broken family, broken trust, broken love.
How do you believe in a God you think abandoned you?
But I refuse to accept that darkness as final.
No soul is too far gone,
no heart too hardened.
Saul breathed threats against believers,
yet he became Paul,
the messenger of life.
If grace can rewrite his story,
then grace can also reach my cousin.
Even if he doesn’t believe it yet.

And then there’s my aunt.
Bitterness sits on her tongue like a taste she cannot wash away.
Her heart always leans one way—
her son’s way—
never pausing to weigh truth,
never listening to the other side.
Bitterness has made her blind,
her ears deaf,
her heart stone.
I used to think this was just her nature,
but I’ve seen enough to realize
bitterness is not who you are—
it’s what you carry.
And what you carry can either crush you
or be surrendered and set free.
Bitterness hardens the heart,
makes life heavy,
but when you finally release it,
when you return to grace,
your stone heart becomes flesh again.
And flesh can feel.
Flesh can forgive.
Flesh can breathe.

And then there’s me.
The mirror I avoided for so long
because I couldn’t bear to see my reflection.
I’ve done things I swore I never would.
I crossed lines I thought I’d never cross.
And shame, oh shame—
it clung to me like chains I couldn’t break.
The whispers came in the night:
“You’re madungis. You’re disgusting.
You are loved only because of your sin,
and without it, you are nothing.”
But I know now—
that voice was never mine.
That voice was the liar’s,
the same liar who tricked Eve in the garden,
the same liar who wants me bound.
Because the truth is different.
The truth is brighter.
I was loved not because of sin,
but despite it.
I was embraced not in my perfection,
but in my brokenness.
I was washed clean,
not because I earned it,
but because mercy found me.

And still, around me,
I see people bowing to statues,
lifting their prayers to mouths that cannot speak,
to ears that cannot hear,
to feet that cannot walk.
They carve them, paint them,
then carry them on their shoulders—
because idols cannot carry themselves.
Made by human hands,
yet worshiped as if they hold power.
But I’ve learned this:
the true God doesn’t need to be carried.
He is the One who carries us.
He doesn’t have painted eyes,
yet He sees the deepest corners of my soul.
He doesn’t have clay ears,
yet He hears every cry,
even the ones I whisper only in my heart.
Why trust what is dead,
when the Living One is reaching out His hand?

So here I stand,
looking at all of us—
my cousin in disbelief,
my aunt in bitterness,
myself in guilt,
and a world clinging to lifeless idols.
Four different prisons,
but one key that unlocks them all.
We are broken,
but broken pieces still belong in the Artist’s hands.
We are bruised,
but bruises can heal when touched by grace.
We are lost,
but even the lost can be found.

And that’s the truth I hold onto:
Bitterness can harden you,
but it can also soften you when you let it go.
Darkness can blind you,
but it cannot withstand the light forever.
Shame can bury you,
but it cannot define you.
Idols can be lifted up,
but they can never lift you.

I choose to believe—
not in the weight of the chains,
but in the One who breaks them.
I choose to believe—
not in bitterness, not in guilt, not in lies,
not in statues of stone,
but in redemption.

Because no soul is too dark,
no heart is too hard,
no past is too *****,
and no idol is too strong,
for grace to overcome.

And so I believe.
I still believe.

take me back to my childhood
where I never have to experience sadness
all the while, all my life
all I ever need in my life was to play with my friends
mid-summer, under the sunlight
under the raindrops that fell on my head
I was glad, for I run in the rain and chase after my playmates
but long ago, that soon ended.

Life led me to uncertainties.
It made me fatigued of things that surely, one day, I know will bring me trauma
life lessons that drove me charge to experience
harsh truths and unforgettable realities gave me something to hold on to
I always believe, this is temporary.
God's kingdom in heaven is a lifetime.
And, surely, slowly, I believed it.

A certain someone said, "you cannot secure a marriage because of love" and "not all who get married are because of love"
just like "you cannot keep a man if you have a child" or "you cannot secure a man if you are married" because the thought is always ringing on the unsatisfied contentment of a man.
but if a man wants to marry you, he will introduce you to his family
not hide you under covers and closed doors
he will bring you to his house, not some motels and lodges
if he wants to keep you, he will not impregnate you
because he knows a woman's value and worth
to tell you, marriage is not solely on love alone
what happens if the love is gone? you separate?
you always make sure that if you want to marry someone, your sole foundation is God, not just a superficial love
I get it, love is love. I love to love.
but first of all, consider loving God first just as he loves you. love yourself first just as a man loves to love you.
then, it is settled.
also, marriage does not keep a man.
A man will have to decide if he wants to keep you in his life forever,
be the mother of your children, or be the wife he wishes to see every morning he wakes up
or you were just a ******* he would always call whenever it was convenient for him.
you cannot force a man to choose or keep you, if he wanted to, he would
that is his decision to take, not yours to force.

the past is supposed to be a lesson learned
not a prison to cage yourself so you could not fly
caged birds are equated to flightless birds or clipped wings
they had no freedom to soar high, their means of flying is limited
caging yourself in the past is not healthy
break the stigma now before it totally ruins you.
think twice.

praying to the savior daily. not post-traumatic stress disorder.

a very challenging story I got, I was diagnosed with PTSD. but I never saw it negatively, but rather, I focused on the good stuff, which is to save my soul and never resort to pills and other stuffs to make me feel better. if therapy was on the list, I'd check it, but it was expensive.

So, I thought to myself, why don't I buy a notebook? a ballpen? or a yellow paper? or something paper to write on.
so, I did. I even write at the back of the calendar sometimes. I write feelings in a piece of paper and read it many times, when I am in sync to the feelings, I could publish many poems in just a minute. let's say 5 to 10. I even created 500 poems to my perpetrator until I got nothing left to write. In those years, all I did was move on and immerse myself in the feeling. And then, when I compiled the poems I wrote, I burned them all. Arson thoughts made me felt better afterwards.

That was when my faith in God stood on solid ground, it made me save my life, my soul. I was kneeling to God, begging to him to come and take my pain. and he did. I even forgave them even when they did not ask for forgiveness. I want to protect my peace of mind, before I want to protect our friendship and ruined my mental health. but now, I learned the lesson, I learned to pray and pay the price for messing with my mental health.

but with God, I felt renewed.
so, PTSD stands for Praying to the Savior daily.
Address your problems to God, seek help. surrender it all to Him.
if no one wants to listen, God does.
Go to him directly. save yourself.
never let those inhibitions and thoughts bother you anymore, they do not deserve to live rent-free in our minds.

I cannot even talk to anyone because there will always come a day that I will be judged and talked
so, I always bring my trusted friend with me
my valiant notebook and ballpen
other people will say, "it was a waste of time and resources"
but for me, "it was a waste of life if you did not express yourself"
because who will listen to you anyway?
those weak people who bullies you thinks they are stronger than you, but no

I value my peace of mind, and I know my trusted friend will not judge me
if the pages were wrinkled because of my tears when writing
if the pages were torn because I got mad and has been throwing tantrums at someone

you know how scribbled my mind is, yet you just stood there and laughed at me
you know how troubled I am, but I still find a way to express myself organically
to tell you frankly, I cannot even hold a knife when thinking nasty thoughts to myself
killing myself is not an option, but saving myself is a choice

my hair was maybe sulking at me because when my hair grows back, I trim it whenever
I cannot even fathom holding a rope and coil it in my neck
I am afraid of heights, I cannot even jump from it
I am asthmatic so I never resorted to smoking
I just write, I got it as a hobby but later on it became a cry for help or self-expression.

there is another side you don't know...
been bullied since elementary until I finished college
since I am unemployed with a degree
I am still bullied and belittled.

how many more strands of my hair I am going to cut to comfort myself
just because I could not coil my neck with a tight rope
or just because I could not jump on top of the building
or drown myself in the water to forget my sorrows
or slit my throat or wrist
or drink alcohol till my kidneys give up
or smoke till my lungs cannot function anymore
or do drugs to stay high and make me insane

how many more poems am I going to write
just to be heard by those people who does not know how to listen
all they do is talk, assume
they do not know how to ask
it was as if they know everything
well, in fact they do not

they just see the highlights
the behind the scenes
not the point of view
you just saw the tip of the iceberg
not the one that lies beneath it

you only know the illness
but never the ill feelings behind it
you only know how to assume
not the sufferings I have been through

you only know when to blame when you did not like how I react
when I talk back, I was labelled as rude
but in fact, it was the tone that made me trigger and felt provoked
but you never watch what you say
you are never careful with your choice of words
you never know the pain I felt when you said that
I was born sensitive, gladly, because I know for a fact that I will never react the way you do

you only know the title of the song and the singer behind it
you only know the verse,
not the hidden meaning behind it.

how many more times am I going to comfort myself
just because my parents are emotional parasites
but emotionally unavailable
remind me why I hate parties? all the people there are not my friends
they fake it.
I am the pity celebrant being pitied
instead of the one celebrating her birthday

how many more times am I going to endure the pain?
I asked for help, did you know what I get in return?
criticisms. I did not ask for lectures but that was what I got in return
their lectures are reminders disguised as insults
they act supportive and concerned but their words never quite matched with their actions.

I reached out my hand because I fell in too deep,
in return, I got pushed deeper
they made me into a laughingstock
made me felt overweight or underweight
but in fact, my weight is not suitable to the liking of my BMI
I felt unheard, my ideas were rejected
I suggested something nice but in return I get a bad review saying I never use my brain well
so, when they asked me next time, I kept my mouth shut
I got the skills, but I am still unseen
what am I going to do with my life, then?
cry in silence, talk to the Lord, surrender it all to Him.

by the grace of God, I survived.
I endured it all for 25 years,
but I got a way out of it alive, surviving.
If you could see my back, it has been filled with invisible patches and band-aids
invisible stitches God always mends from harsh truths
but it made me learn that God removed you from the people who hurt you, do not crawl your way back in their arms anymore.

be wiser, be better.

Three years feel like the right time for me to finally say it: I want to marry this man. He has shown me, over and over, what love really means. He never lets me go to bed angry, because he values peace more than pride. He protects my heart, my peace, and my sanity as if they were treasures meant to be guarded with his life.

He buys my needs, not because I ask, but because he pays attention to me in ways no one else ever has. He provides me comfort and relaxation, reminding me that I deserve to rest, to be cared for, to be safe. With him, I don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone. Sometimes we eat out, sometimes we travel, and in those moments, the world feels like it shrinks into just us two, laughing, sharing meals, building memories.

He gave me the world but keeps me on my toes. He leads me closer to God, and in his love, I have found peace, joy, and wholeness. He doesn’t just love me—he makes me grow, makes me dream, makes me believe that forever is possible.

In the first year of our relationship, we spent time figuring out what we truly meant to each other. We fought—not as enemies, but as two people learning how to love deeply, how to navigate differences, how to build a bond strong enough to withstand life’s tests. I did not see our arguments as battles to win, but as opportunities to strengthen our connection.

You showed me the scars of your past—the stories that still haunt you, the traumas you thought would scare me away. You revealed your vulnerabilities, believing I might laugh or run from you. But I didn’t. Instead, I drew stars around your scars, crowned them with care, praised your courage, and comforted you. I held your pain as if it were my own, because loving you means embracing every piece of who you are, even the parts that once felt broken.

In the second year of our relationship, we ventured into our first business together. We figured out how to balance our dreams and our partnership, how to navigate challenges side by side. But with that visibility came people’s comments. Many were harsh, judgmental, and full of negativity aimed at you. Of course, it hurt me, because I love you fiercely and I cannot bear to hear anything said against you. But in that moment, I realized something important: my respect for those who lack respect for you disappeared completely. I saw who truly matters, and who does not, and I chose to protect our bond, letting go of those who sought to harm us with their words.

And in the third year of our relationship, everything crystallized for me. Seeing how far we had come, how we had grown together, how we had faced challenges, celebrated victories, and loved each other through it all—it made me realize without a doubt that we should get married. It was not a sudden thought, but a natural conclusion to the journey we had walked side by side.

So now, after three years, after laughter and tears, arguments and forgiveness, revelations and acceptance, and challenges faced together in love, life, and business, I can say it with certainty and without hesitation: I want to marry this man. Because with him, I have found not only love, but home—a place where my heart feels safe, my soul feels seen, and my life feels full.

Betrayal is a strange kind of wound. It never comes from the blade of a stranger—it comes from the hand you once held, the voice you once trusted, the presence you once leaned on. It is not the enemy that ruins you. It is the friend who knew your secrets. It is the family member who knew your weakness. It is the lover who knew your heart. And because betrayal always comes from within your circle, the sting is sharper, the scar deeper, and the healing slower. That is why I say: before you do me *****, make sure you never need me again. Because there will come a day when pride runs dry, when excuses wear thin, when the world closes its doors on you and you remember the one person who stood by you in silence, in patience, in loyalty. And when that day comes, you will find that you have burned the very bridge that once led you back to safety.

You think betrayal is just an action—it is not. It is a declaration. It says: I don’t value you enough to protect you. I don’t honor what we had enough to keep it safe. I choose myself at your expense. Betrayal is not an accident. It is a choice. And choices always have consequences.

Trust is the most fragile currency in the world. It is invisible, weightless, but priceless. You can build it for years and lose it in seconds. And yet, people play with it like it costs nothing. They take advantage of the silence of loyalty. They mistake kindness for weakness. They believe forgiveness is endless. And so they test the limits, pushing further each time, until one day the rope snaps and they realize they are dangling over a void of their own making.

When I give someone my trust, it is not because I am naïve. It is because I have chosen to see them as more than just another face in the crowd. I choose to believe they will guard my back, not stab it. I choose to believe they will protect my name, not smear it. I choose to believe they will hold my truth, not weaponize it. But when that trust is broken, I do not rebuild it easily. And if you dare betray me, then at least be wise enough to make sure you will never need me again. Because trust, once shattered, does not grow back like a broken bone. It crumbles into dust, and you cannot put dust back together.

Life has a cruel sense of irony. The very people you harm today may be the ones you desperately need tomorrow. You never know when the tables will turn. The one you insulted may be the only one willing to speak for you in a room full of silence. The one you ignored may be the only one who remembers you when everyone else forgets. The one you betrayed may be the only one who still has the key to the door you now desperately need to open.

And yet, people betray as if they will never taste hunger. They betray as if they will never need comfort. They betray as if they will never be desperate for a helping hand. But the truth is, everyone eventually faces a moment when pride collapses. Everyone eventually faces a storm that strips away their defenses. And in that moment, they will remember who they wronged. So I say again: before you do me *****, make sure you never need me again. Because if the day comes when you come crawling back, you will find no open arms—only the echo of your own choices.

Some people betray, and then later crawl back, pretending nothing happened. They think a smile erases the knife in the back. They think time alone heals wounds without apology. They think their need is enough reason for forgiveness. But pride is a strange thing. It blinds people into thinking they will never fall. It convinces them that bridges can always be rebuilt after they burn them. But life is not that merciful. Once you burn me, you burn me completely. I do not rebuild bridges that were destroyed in fire. I build new roads elsewhere, far away from the ashes.

And here’s the irony—many who betray are shocked when they discover I can live without them. They believed I was dependent. They believed I was weak. They believed I was bound to them by some invisible chain. But betrayal has a way of showing me the truth: that I can survive without the betrayer, but the betrayer cannot survive without me.

So listen carefully. If you are planning to betray me, at least have the dignity to ensure you will never need me again. Because when you crawl back—and you will crawl back—you will not find me waiting. I will not be your savior when the world spits you out. I will not be your comfort when your pride has eaten you alive. I will not be the shoulder you cry on when loneliness surrounds you. You may laugh now, thinking you have outsmarted me. You may smile, thinking I will never discover the truth. You may even convince yourself that betrayal carries no consequence. But life has a way of revealing hidden hands. Truth has a way of surfacing, even from six feet under. Lies rot. Secrets decay. Masks slip. And when that moment comes, I will already be standing far from you, untouched, unharmed, unmoved.

The real danger of betrayal is not in the act itself—it is in the aftershock. Betrayal creates ghosts that haunt relationships forever. It plants seeds of doubt that grow like weeds. It teaches people to look over their shoulder, to question every smile, to second-guess every word. Betrayal poisons not just one bond—it poisons the very soil of trust, making it harder for new bonds to grow. And yet, betrayers rarely think this far. They live in the moment, feeding their desires, their greed, their pride, without realizing they are sowing destruction. They dig their own grave, shovelful by shovelful, until they are too deep to climb out. And then, with trembling hands, they look for help. But help does not come. Because the one person they could have counted on is the very person they buried beneath lies.

The truth has a strange way of surfacing, no matter how deeply buried. You can cover it with lies, distractions, excuses—but it seeps through cracks, it whispers in silence, it bleeds into the air. And when it emerges, it does not ask permission. It arrives like thunder, breaking open the sky. So I warn you: do not betray lightly. Do not throw away trust as if it were a toy. Do not use people as if they are disposable. Because one day, when the truth stands tall, when the mask falls off, when the consequences arrive at your doorstep, you will realize what you lost. And you will remember this: I do not come back to those who betrayed me.

So before you do me *****, make sure you never need me again. Make sure you will never knock on my door for help. Make sure you will never cry my name when you are drowning. Make sure you will never hope for my hand when you are falling. Because betrayal is a choice, and choices have consequences. I will not be your savior after you have made me your victim. I will not be your comfort after you have made me your target. I will not be your shield after you have pierced me with your own sword. I am not your enemy—but if you treat me like one, then prepare to face life without me. And when that day comes, remember this: you were warned.

Snakes and monsters don’t just crawl in the dark—
they feast.
They slither into your mind,
wrap around your heart,
sink their fangs into your spirit.

They eat your soul.
They hollow you out until nothing’s left but a shell.
A living ghoul.
A body walking without light.

They turn you into a zombie,
not to devour your flesh,
but to gnaw at your mind,
to strip you of reason,
to make you crave the poison that killed you.

They bite like vampires,
not for blood,
but for emotions.
They feed on your joy,
sip on your hope,
drain you until all that remains
is a husk of who you used to be.

They are emotional parasites.
And parasites never stop feeding—
unless you burn them out,
cut them off,
tear them from your veins.

Because if you don’t,
you’ll wake one day
not as yourself—
but as the monster
they’ve made of you.

When I was young, I was scared of snakes.
I was scared of monsters.
But now?
Even a walking snake,
even a backstabbing monster—
they no longer scare me.

Snakes can shed their skins to show their “true selves.”
They can call themselves Cobra, or Viper,
wear the name Rattlesnake or Mamba,
wrap themselves in Coral Snake’s colors,
slither as Python, Boa, Rat Snake, Garter Snake, Corn Snake,
Anaconda, Boa Constrictor…

It doesn’t matter what they claim to be.
Because a snake is a snake.
Venomous or harmless, constrictor or deceiver—
its nature always surfaces.

Some hiss loud warnings.
Some strike in silence.
Some squeeze you slowly, breath by breath.
And some smile in colors so bright
you never see the poison underneath.

They can rename themselves,
repaint themselves,
shed their skin a thousand times—
but the truth remains:
they slither.
They deceive.
They prey.

And the wise will always know:
to trust a snake
is to offer your flesh to its fangs.

And you—
even if you bare your claws and fangs,
no matter what mask you wear—
be it a gnome in shadows,
a vampire thirsting for blood,
a werewolf howling at the moon,
a ghost haunting silence,
a ghoul feeding on the forgotten,
or a zombie staggering through the night—

You are still bound by your nature.
Dress it up.
Hide it.
Pretend you’re harmless.
The truth will bleed through.

Because evil doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes it whispers.
Sometimes it smiles.
Sometimes it wears the face
of someone we once trusted.

So go on—bare your claws, flash your fangs,
reveal the skin you’re hiding.
It doesn’t scare me anymore.
I’ve seen worse.

The darkest monsters
aren’t hiding under the bed—
they walk beside us.
Smiling.
Breathing.
Pretending to be human.

But you—
you are not human.
You dare call yourself one?
Tch. Rolling stones, parting seas—
none of that shakes you.
But my God?
My God walks on water.
My God heals the broken.
My God turns water to wine,
feeds thousands with loaves and fishes.
Wonders beyond wonders.

And when my God roars,
your inner demon trembles.

I don’t care what you are.
Even if you are legion, one or many—
you are still Leviathan in my eyes.