Uh Hi?

I love you. I'm sorry if it took so long for me to say it back because I was scared. I was so so terrified of the idea of being the one in love. I used to think that I was a romantic, and a hopeless one at that. I used to think about how I wanted that great kind of love, something that was for the books and for those cliche romantic comedy that I am somewhat addicted to. But now, actually experiencing it first-hand, I am so scared. I felt ashamed and clueless. It was weird. I didn't want to admit it to myself at first because actually loving someone scares me. I didn't have any clue on what to do. You seem to know more about love so I felt like the bad guy because you have always told me that you loved me and you showed me quite a few times too. But I still haven't proved anything because like I said, I didn't know what to do.

August 10, 2015.
That's when I knew that I was in for it. That I was down for whatever it is that we have. I wouldn't call it a commitment or an exclusive relationship but it was something. You became my favorite habit. A habit that I couldn't quit even when I try to(trust me there were countless of times). It sounds corny but it is true.
Countless of times I was hurt. There were days when I could literally feel my heart throb. I knew that there were girls that you have loved in the past and the idea of having to think that they were better with you and you were better at loving them than me really ***** the worst in me. You were also so honest with everything and there were nights when I want nothing but to cry. Just cry. To be honest there was a time when I felt like giving up, that was when I didn't know how to love bad parts of you but now I realize that I have to love them too even when it hurts, even when it feels like hell because I love you. I love the idea of being in love with you because with whatever reason I have, all I know is that I have to keep going because you are one of the few people who actually makes me feel sane. I used to be a mess believe me. I used to hate life. I used to cry a lot. I used to want to be somebody else and exist in another place. I was in a dark place. I'm really crying right now because I hate remembering how I used to feel. I was so filled with love but at the same time I was empty. So so empty. I knew that there was a God, that there someone who could help me, believe me I've always tried. I was good at hiding so no one knew except for one person. But when I met you, all of the things that I used to feel, I was beginning to forget about them. Really. I am beyond thankful because going back here in the Philippines it made me realize a lot of things about myself and about the world I live in. I was thankful for everything that has happened. I fell in love with Jesus Christ all over again and it was honestly the best feeling ever. You somewhat inspired me in so many but little ways. At first what pulled me closer to you was your confidence, the moment I met you, you sounded like the guy who knew what to do, who was different. I know how I'm complicated and how I keep a lot of things but sorry because that's all I'll ever be. I can't promise to change but I swear that I'll try because know, at my young age, I want to experience having to unbottle myself for a person that I genuinely love. I'm not just doing it for you, I'm doing it for myself.

I always look forward
to the luminous poems
you poets display.
But when I checked
my home page,
all I saw were thoughts
of suicide and deep
emotions of hopelessness
today. It churns my
stomach and burdens
my heart to see you
this way. There's a
place in my soul for
you, but that place
for yourself in your
own is filled with
decay.  You wish to
place a bullet in your
brain, but you're afraid
it will just ricochet around
in your head. You'r diseased
with what's behind your skull--
a dark black stain,
and it's true, we will
never know what you
fear for, laying in bed.
Nobody thinks what you
think--no one. And I'm
afraid empathy is on the
verge of extinction. I
know it's hard to say, I
understand it's not easy
to unbottle what's inside,
I get that it's even a
burden to let go of
what is safer to hide.
Stay alive for me, that's
all I want you to do,
stay with me, and I'll
try to save you. But
the truth is, I can't,
I can only be here
by your side as you
face down the hell
you're going through.
So I will stand here
at the edge of your
trench. I will do all
I can. But you must
fight. You must not
let these demons
take you down. It's
not easy. But I'll be
up here. I'll send
down my poems,
hoping to help
cast them out.
And when morning
comes, I'll be offering
my hand. We will stand
again, sharpening our
weapons for when the
sun reaches its grave.
But friend, you must first
live through this night.
Stay alive for me, please.

such softness i covet compulsively, and yet all i can do is watch myself dig a mass grave for the white tulips i ripped apart. watch myself crumble like weathered obsidians. watch myself unbottle self-addressed apologies, and choke on all the softness i never had —

until all there is is my skin, drenched in ghostly disquiet.
until all there is is an ugly sight of breaths, hoarded as they fall.
until all there is is just breaking.

and until all there is,




is me.

you always ask why i always stay in my room, in that voice that always made me feel small and vulnerable — the one that always made me feel like a five-year-old girl wishing that the blankets and the stars will hush the thunders.

you always ask why, dad, and yet you always find ways to hurt me the moment i come out of this four-walled shell, ashen and gray from all the storm clouds circling over my head. you always find ways to spot the cracks on my skin, like i was just another wall in this crumbling house. you always find ways lasso your words around my throat — tighter and tighter, i can no longer breathe. you always find ways to unhinge my mind; to unbottle all the tears and all the loose pieces of my heart hastily stitched out of place.

dad, i am caught in a trojan war brewed by my demons, and you are paris, piercing all of my achilles heels; stitched; tender; still healing from all the poisoned arrows you shoot — a year ago. two years ago. three. four. and for years and years, you always find ways to crush me, like the cans of your empty beer. you always find ways to crack and snap this bent framework; my bones are broken from the weight of your words. you always find ways to hurt me and hurt me and hurt me and hurt me again — like i was never the little girl you played dolls and cooking sets with; like i was never the little girl you watched disney movies with. like i was never the little girl you used to love — dad, i am still she, now trapped in the body of an adult. i am still she, now trapped in the prison of a dusty room you unknowingly co-erected. and i guess i'll stay right here where i'm trapped, but safe. i guess i'll stay right here where the voices only come from my demons.

i'll stay right here where you can't see me.

i'll stay right here where i'm not hurt.