She's back at it again. The amount of her friends' impatience towards her psychotic thoughts can never be equated to her very own exhaustion of her entire being. She, for the nth time, wants to leave the world.

She slams the door real hard as she walks out the room, which she shares with her three roommates. She's out of the room as she's out of her mind. She seeks for a space where she can fit herself. The innocent fire exit has no choice but to accept again, the traitor tears, the unending complaints, and even the stomping on the floor and the punching on the wall. From her view on the 12th floor, the busy streets of G. Tolentino and Laong Laan distract her.

"I can't even understand myself, how am I supposed to comprehend this blur?" she's now even fighting with her alter-ego. Everything is a mess. Everything is blurred. She hates herself for being four-eyed. She has no choice but to go back to the room just to get her glasses with 200-175 grade. Now, everything is clear. Not as clear as her life is going, though, but, at least, she can now clearly see the chaos that is the city of Manila.

Her eyes walk through G. Tolentino and the bittersweet memories of the off-campus practicum come rushing through her mind. She would ride the jeepney from G. Tolentino-Laong Laan all the way to Casañas-Dapitan. From there, she would walk three blocks before she could reach the public school where she would teach ninth and tenth graders. She was glad because of the warm welcome of the students, and at the same time, mad, because of the horror of the reality in the public school — the politics among the faculty. She shrugged it off and just continued with what she was supposed to do.

After each shift, she would walk four blocks to reach the one-way street where she could ride the jeepney back to her area. She would alight at Delos Reyes Street so she could rest for a while in her unit. In-campus practicum's at 12:30 P.M. anyway, she thought.

And now she's back at the fire exit at the 12th floor. The rays of the sun almost blind her. She blames herself for abusing her eyes way back in her childhood years. Now, she can't enjoy the wonders of life without her nerdy glasses. She unconsciously moves her left foot away from the shade of the sun because of the trauma from last year. Two painful experiences race through her mind, as if it's a contest on which should be recalled first. Of course, the more painful wins — getting kicked out of an all-ladies dormitory, together with her girlfriend, because of their, obviously, ****** preferences. It still haunts her until now. The 2nd runner-up, on the other hand, is the less painful, and therefore, the consequence of the first painful experience — having to find another dormitory during broad daylight, because of course, nighttime in Manila is utterly dangerous.

Starting from Dos Castillas, they seemed like two meerkats digging a tunnel, finding for a place to live. Apparently, posting on Dorm Hunters in Facebook was not as good as literally going through the fires of all big streets combined — España, Lacson, Dapitan, and P. Noval. She was supposed to prepare for practicum, while her girlfriend was supposed to prepare for thesis, yet there they were, harrowing Manila because it seemed like a big head with strands of hair full of lice. After almost a week of searching for a place, they had finally settled to a totally different one from their previous dormitory.

And now she's back at the fire exit at the 12th floor. She hopes her roommates aren't there, but they are, so she has no choice but to calm down. Boy, was it difficult to calm down! She stares at the sun as it sets, until it is finally out of sight. A tiny object catches her attention —it is an airplane. An airplane which brings her yet again to another memory, and at the same time, encourages her on her dream to travel the world.

It was once again a competition on which should be set forth. Again, the more powerful wins — the memory of someone leaving. Way back in her childhood years, whenever she would see an airplane, she would envision them riding that airplane, and finally going back home. She grew up tired waiting. They eventually came home, but she didn't care anymore whether she would stay or she would leave again. News flash! She left again. And again. And again. Now it doesn't matter to her anymore whether they come home or not. She still loved them either way. She just stopped wondering, asking, questioning, and all the other synonyms of asking why.

The pain of that memory is so strong, she is excited to overcome it immediately with her dream of traveling the world. An imaginary globe appears right in front of her face. Several people of different races talk to her. Oh boy, was she excited! Oh yes, she is! She can't stop giggling from the thought of her travelling and speaking different languages.

With all these memories, she calms down and finally goes back to the room, where her roommates already fell asleep. The sultry from outside of the room gets forgotten because of the air conditioner, which calms her more. She goes up to her bed on the double deck and listens to worship songs to calm herself even more. She falls asleep so easily but her sleep gets interrupted right away. It's 7 'o clock in the evening and her roommates invite her to dinner. They decide to eat at McDonald's in P. Noval. She's still lost from the 'traveling' she did that afternoon. She's still not on her mind the entire dinner, until they return to their room.

She goes out of the room again, but not to stay at the fire exit, but to actually get some fresh air. Unfortunately, there is no fresh air in Manila. She notices how dangerous the streets in Manila are during nighttime. Although it is dangerous as well in daytime, the only difference is there is a sun. Different kinds of poor people are all over the streets of Manila and it haunts the hell out of her. It brings back the horrors and traumas from her past—being prone to accidents and misfortunes. She goes back to the fire exit and indulges herself to another reflection.

She went out to get some fresh air, but she only got her wounds fresh yet again.

She looks again at the view from the 12th floor and realizes how the streets around the campus of her university have been haunting her. She tries to overcome her fears with the good memories. This time, she wins. She, then, releases her emotions by writing everything. In this way, she thinks, she will be able to let go of everything. As soon as she finishes the last part, she runs out of words and decides to end everything —just like that.

Do you remember the year 1861? I was just ending my practicum of nursing, and you were being drafted to war. Oh, the day we met on that rain-washed Thursday while you were dodging the doctor from a scratched cornea, I admired you from across the medical tent.
Noticing me quickly, you half smiled. War was quickly setting into place, while you and I plunged head first into love.
We woke up to a conked labor union and our whole base blowing to hell.
My ears, my ears were engulfed with vibrations of cannon sounds.
Then and there, a bullet committed one's self to the center of my chest.
But you found me, slipping into utter darkness. You culled me back towards consciousness.
Flower, Flower, you said. And here I stand beside your plot in the necropolis, knowing my name could have been here just as easily as yours.
                                                                                           eternally yours,
                                                                                                     Your Flower.

The first time we met, I was a ******* wreck. I wore lounge pants, a tie-dye shirt, and an old hoodie. I might have had tears in my eyes because I was so **** tired of carrying the weight of the world in every part of my being and letting it control me. That is why I came to you- so that you could be my sort of savior, you could lighten my load with the wisdom of your words, the strength of your soul, the kindness of your heart. You wore a pink shirt, and I thought you looked a bit fierce. But the moment your voice carried your name to my ears, I could feel the gentleness that hid beneath the surface.
That was the beginning of the hurricane that is my unending love for you.
For you this would be a learning experience, the practicum needed to get those three prestigious letters after your name. For me, this would be my only hope of recovery, a life-raft thrown into the dark and murky waters that were drowning me. I put all my faith in you, and for that I was foolish, but what else can you do when it feels like the rest of the world has turned its back on you, and yet here in this little office, I had your full attention. Daily, your thoughtful green eyes would fix upon me, though I had the hardest time meeting them with mine. I’m awkward like that, I told you once.
There were a few things that you would say time and time again…
“I appreciate that honesty.”
“I’m worried about you.”
and of course the cliché, “how does that make you feel?”
But there was another word, a mysterious one that you always said. “Beautiful”. To you, everything was beautiful. I told you my views about divinity and you said “that’s a beautiful way to look at it.” I wrote three pages worth of final words to you and you said “that’s a beautiful letter.” I asked you what you thought about me and you said “you have a beautiful soul.”
Every Friday at three o’clock, I could tell you without a doubt that our souls did a little dance together.
When I was with you, I could not help smiling. I would talk about the most painful things of my life, and my voice would rasp and break. But on my face there was always this smile as if you had cast a spell on me. You wanted me to show some emotion, but for you, I had built a wall. Like everyone else in my life, I had to protect you from myself.
The last time we had our little soul-dance was the first time you saw me cry. It was right after you confirmed to me that that was indeed the last time. It was right before I lost my mind and almost lost everything else. it was when I asked you for your hand, despite the red tape that forbade such a request to be granted. It was when the air in the room was thicker than bricks with pain and regret and above all, loss. It was a moment I wanted so badly to end, but one of many moments with you that I will remember forever.
The whole ten weeks I fell as hard as a meteor for you. The whole ten weeks, I was in the most ridiculous denial. As soon as I was able to say to myself, “****, I love him,” my life was never the same.
I have never been so in love with someone as I am with you. But I have never been so angry with someone as I am with you. I think about it now, and I realize; we went on a journey for months- an emotional, difficult, and intimate journey. And now I feel like I have come to the end of our path and the only thing I have left is a broken heart. The whole time, you were getting too close. You and your ******* beautiful green eyes- oh and that word. Beautiful. I wonder why you said that to me so much. Were you trying to tell me something? Was it a slip of the mind? You told me once that you struggled with the boundaries. When I asked you why we were terminating you did one of those “and… yeah” things. The whole time, you kept talking about our relationship, but was it really the therapeutic alliance you were referring to? You twisted me through your fingers like play-dough and now I am here, a *** of a bunch of colors that don’t go together and it’s all because of you. How can I blame myself for this?
In the research, they call it “****** transference”. But is it fair to say that? Should we really just boil it all down to a science and just brush it off as a technicality? No. It’s not that simple, but it’s not that complex either- you have my heart, it is in pieces, and it will be that way for the rest of my life.

Pupils incredulous
with dilation
hang stalwart on diction
and circumlocution—feed and bleed
affixation
on gold star delusions
of corpus analysis
and physical education,
prurient practicum
and conjugal conjugation.
Introduction to body
paragraph to bang-and-shut
conclusion.
Passion, pursuit, neuter, second declension:
𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘮.

And just so you know,
Sometimes we never do,
It's just a chance we take...
Knowing if we can really forego a risk so great
If you dare to take
That leap of faith.
To boldly let go of whats been done to you
And  compare not the old
To the new,...
For is it truly fair to act bitter and cold
To an innocent heart that
Has only love and will do anything you ask them to
After several attempts to
Find love......
You give in to ......
The idea that ....you.
Can no longer be burdened with that desire....
Sadly you just give up....
No more will you try,
Theres nobody out there ,
The problem is elusive
Because you look for the perfect person .
Well funshine think of it this way.......
A perfect catch probably
Would want a perfect match.
No offense deary
But clearly you arnt exactly what that defines.
Nobodies perfect .
So then you stop looking.
Cupid knows when
You drop expectations
Potential candidates
Interrogations
He draws his bow
Lets loose arrows




Some how love laced ,
Because of love ,
You were, I'm sure
faced with petty things
Which imbued you
With lofty dreams
That one day
The new love of your
Life
will learn not to do!
Since life so often
Seen through
Eyes biased by
a lifetime sorta practicum
Internship
As an apprentice
Imprinting through environmental conditioning ,
Immersed in
What your mentors
Were taught
What they thought
Was how to be.
So you gleaned everything
You perceive,and although you may deicide to rebel or reject certain aspects
As you mature pain and pressure can exhaust
Dealing in such heavy costs incurring grieving losses .
We have tendencies to
So subtly  fall back in default to
Our
pseudo
Peach tree point of view .
Morals ethics right wrong
This is your reality.
It isnt long when your
loveshine is gone.  
Im so sorry for you. ....
Before you do anything
Cruel or stupid ..
Concern your mind with this.
You may try to empathise
But ,
You dont know you cant rationalize a paradigm
Different than that which
Made you"YoU"!
It could be they have been neglected,rejected,beatin,
Lied to ,abandoned
By one or both mom and dad and or possible
Siblings too.
This new love to them
Could be the first time
They have tried to be and so far they are the best to you that they could be.
And it's hard to remember but not so long ago you loved them
so..
.have the courage
And respect to say.
Im sorry and thank you
For all of the things we experienced.
I dont want to hurt you
But I also dont want to lie to you,
And lead you on...
I will always try to stay your friend if youll let me.
Anyway my love for you is gone........
Its so very difficult
Or do you want to take the ****** way out and jade them into someone like you by doing those accursed things that some ******* did to you...
Cause that makes you no better than them
And then your just another bitter ******* too.

Sitting in the Aged Care Pastoral Care room,
Drinking a warm milky tea and eating a Monte Carlo.
There are beeps outside from staff going in and out of ‘secure’ rooms,
The hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen nearby,
Gentle clanging of knives and forks being sorted,
Staff chatter going in and out of Residents’ rooms.
Life in an Aged Care Center.
Taking in this precious moment; I am here,
I'll never have this moment again,
A moment I've been working towards for years through study and practicum.
I am a spiritual carer!
Walking alongside the life-full residents;
Their crinkly, sagging skin, lines that tell a thousand stories
Of love, loss, despair, and hope for repair
oscillating between the past lives and future selves
Some are only just here for the minute.
So much they can teach me,
And like my younger self eager to learn,
I listen hopefully.