Noong Nobyembre 8 2016, magandang araw ang aking naranasan. Lahat ng tao ay naging mabait sa akin, masaya ang mga pangyayari at nakangiti ako buong araw. Nang sumapit ang hapon at ako ay pauwi na galing sa eskwelahan, mayroong ibinalita sa akin ang aking ina. At dahil sa balita na iyon, nasira ang aking mabuting araw, at napalitan ng pagiging miserable. Isang pangyayari na tumatak sa isip ng madaming Pilipino,  isang pangyayari na naghimok sa akin upang magsalita at lumaban. Noong Nobyembre 8 2016, pinayagang ilibing ang dating presidente at diktador na si Ferdinand Marcos sa libingan ng mga bayani.


          Bayani ba si Marcos? Siya ay naging presidente ng Pilipinas sa loob ng dalawampu’t isang taon. Alam nating lahat ang kanyang mga nagawa, dahil sa kanya mayroong NLEX, at iba pang mga imprastraktura at gusali. One is to one ang peso at dolyar noong kanyang panahon. Madami siyang nagawa para sa ating bansa. At sabi nga ng maraming Pilipino, ginawa niyang mayaman ang Pilipinas. Pero ano nga ba ang katotohanan? Noong ako ay bata, nasa isip ko rin na si Marcos ay naging magaling na Presidente at pinaganda niya ang Pilipinas. Pero nang ako ay tumanda, nalaman ko ang mga katotohanan na ayaw tanggapin ng karamihan. Bago pa maging presidente si Marcos, mayroon ng malaking oportunidad na magkaroon ang Pilipinas ng economic bloom, at yuon ay dahil sa administrasyon ng mga dating Presidenteng si Magsaysay at Macapagal. Kung mayroong dapat ikredito kay Marcos yuon ay ang pagpapayag niya ng paghiram ng malaki at ang ginawa niyang malalaking utang sa mga dayuhan na dapat kanyang gamitin para sa industrialization at pagpapaunlad. Ngunit sinayang ng rehimeng Marcos ang lahat ng perang ito sa pamamagitan cronyism at katiwalian. Ang hindi alam ng nakakaramihan ay isa siyang kurakot na lider, at ang kanyang mga utang ay babayaran natin magpahanggang sa taong 2025. Oo, madami siyang naipatayong mga imprastraktura at may mga nagawa siya sa bansa, pero hindi ba galing sa mga Pilipino ang pera na iyon? Nasa kapangyarihan siya sa loob ng dalawampu’t isang taon, malamang sa malamang ay madami siyang magagawa. At hindi ba responsibilidad iyon ng isang presidente? Na paglingkuran ang bansa? Bakit kailangang isumbat iyon? Ang daming bagay na hindi alam ng mga Pilipino at lubos na nakalulungkot ito, ang mas nakakalungkot pa ay ang mga nakalimot sa Martial Law. Pinili ng mga tao na kalimutan ang mga totoong bayani, na nagbuwis ng buhay nila para sa bansa na ito. Nakalimutan nila ang mga libo libong tao na namatay at nasaktan. Nakalimutan nila ang dami ng dugo, at sakit na dinanas ng Pilipino noong panahon ng Martial Law. Ang demokrasyang binura ng administrasyong Marcos ay pilit na kinalimutan ng mga mamamayan ngayon dahil sa kadahilanan na ginawa naman nitong maganda ang bansa. Ang kalayaan na ipinaglaban ng mga Pilipino noon, ang kalayaan na dahilan upang makapagsulat ako ngayon, ay hinding hindi ko makakalimutan. Mga perang ninakaw,  mga Pilipinong lumaban pero namatay at nasaktan, mga karapatan na nayurakan, gaanon nalang ba kadaling kalimutan? P167.636 bilyon na ninakaw, 3,264 na namatay, 34,000 na tinorture at 70,000 na nakulong. Hindi bayani si Marcos, at kahit kailan hindi siya magiging bayani.


       Ang pangyayaring ito ay isang malaking bahagi sa ating kasaysayan at bansa. Sinasabi nila na tayo ay mag move on at magpatawad, pero paano natin ito mabibigay kung wala namang nanghihingi nito? At wala sa kanila ang desisyon kung kailan tayo magbibigay ng tawad. Habang ang mga Pilipino ay pinatay ay ninakawan, ang pamilya niya ang nagsasaya dahil sa kanilang yaman at dahil sa pagiging bayani ni Marcos. Sa pangyayari na ito, parang nabura ang ating kasaysayan. Para nating kinalimutan lahat ng nangyari. “Buti pa si Marcos may bangkay.”, sabi ng isang pamilya na hindi pa nahahanap ang bangkay ng isang Martial Law victim. Paano tayo magmomove on sa isang pangyayari na hindi pa naman nagkakaroon ng maayos na wakas? Ito ay parang paglagay ng asin sa sugat na hindi pa naghihilom. Ang nangyayari sa ating bansa sa kasalukuyan, sa katunayan, ay sobrang nakakatakot. Nakikita ko na simula ito ng panibagong panahon na walang demokrasya at pagapak sa mga karapatan. Baka masyado tayong takot sa kasaysayan, pero hindi tayo takot na maulit ito. Pero hindi ako titigil, hindi dapat tayo tumigil, upang ipaglaban ang tama. Tayo ay magsalita, at lumaban para sa ating bansa. Huwag tayong susuko para makamit ang tunay na hustisya.  Hahayaan ba natin na maulit ang madilim na nakaraan? Hindi na muli.

*(k.b)

Let me tell you the story about the 6 people I’ve met. Let me just say first that they are famous. They are always talked about. But don’t envy me or feel anything bad, because don’t worry, you will meet them all too. Or perhaps, you have probably met them. You probably met some of them already. We all did. Now I will tell you the story of when I met them, of where I met them, and how I met them.



I first met Happiness when my mom bought me my dream barbie doll. I was so eager to have it and seeing my mom holding it made me feel.. incredible. I couldn’t explain it at first because I was so young, I didn’t know emotions yet but when someone named Happiness came, I immediately knew what I felt. Happiness stayed with me for a long time, happiness was with me during my 7th birthday when I had a party. Happiness was with me when I became the first honor of my class. Happiness was with me when I watched the Hannah Montana movie. Happiness was with me when I traveled with my whole family, when we were all together. To sum it up, Happiness was with me when I was young. And when I grew older, Happiness needed to leave. I begged Happiness, “Please don’t go.”, like Happiness was my father leaving us, like Happiness was my childhood friend moving to another country. But Happiness told me, “I need to.”


And then nostalgia came. Nostalgia came when I missed my barbie dolls. Nostalgia was with me when I was listening to Best of Both Worlds and all the memories of being a Hannah Montana fan came back. Nostalgia was with me when I was looking at the old pictures of me and my family. Nostalgia was with me when I was looking for my shirt and I suddenly saw my dress when I was a baby that reminded me of my childhood. Nostalgia was with me when I was missing what it felt like to have a complete family. Nostalgia was with me when I wished to be just a little kid playing barbie dolls with no worries in life. Nostalgia made me miss Happiness more, and made me wonder when will Happiness come back. And then Nostalgia left, and another person came. I was hoping the person would be Happiness, the person wasn’t.


A person named Loneliness came unwanted. Loneliness came the first time I had a failing grade. Loneliness was with my side when my friend needed to move to another school. Loneliness was with me when I was no longer an honor student. Loneliness was with me when my mom scolded me about my low grades and I locked myself inside the bathroom, alone, crying, and I didn’t have someone, only Loneliness. Loneliness was with me when I was growing up. Loneliness was with me when I was compared to other people, and they were better than me. Loneliness was with me when I lost everything. Loneliness was with me when I became a nobody. Loneliness was with me for a long period of time. Loneliness was like a friend who I never wanted to be with, a friend who I hated so much, but that friend won’t just go away no matter how hard you try, and no matter how hard I try Loneliness will never be a friend to me. But Loneliness told me, “Don’t worry. I will leave soon. I won’t be here forever.” And so Loneliness left.


And this strange, mysterious, indescribable person came. The person was named Love. And I thought, “Oh, so this is the famous Love.” I wanted to tell Love I wasn’t ready to meet you yet, but I didn’t know Love would come, Love came unexpectedly. Love came when I met you. Love was with me when you held my hands. Love was with me when I felt safe in your arms. Love was with me when I was reading Murakami. Love was with me the first time I wrote poetry. Love was with me when my best friend told me she would never leave me. I didn’t know why Love came, but I didn’t want Love to leave. But just like everyone and everything else, Love wasn’t meant to last.


And so heartbreak came. I met Heartbreak two summers ago when you told me you would leave me. Heartbreak was with me when I saw you with someone else that wasn’t me. Heartbreak was with me when I wasn’t accepted at my dream school. Heartbreak was with me when I didn’t win the poetry contest I worked hard for. Heartbreak was with me when my best friend suddenly became a stranger. Heartbreak was with me when I saw sadness and disappoint in my mother’s eyes. Heartbreak was a ****** person. I couldn’t wait Heartbreak to leave. But Heartbreak was with me a little longer than I wanted Heartbreak to be. And when Heartbreak will finally leave, I asked a question emotionally, “Are you related to Loneliness or what?” and Heartbreak responded, “No. As much as I’m the opposite, I’m the twin of Love.”


And a beautiful person named Hope came. Hope came when the storm was finally over. Hope was with me when I decided to write again. Hope was with me when I see people believing in my strength. Hope was with me when I looked in the mirror and told myself, “I can survive all of this.” Hope was with me when I watched the film Dead Poets Society. Hope was with me when I saw the most genuine smiles of my family. Hope was with me when I helped myself and became better. Hope was with me when I found myself. And I was hoping Hope would never leave.


But then I learned the truth about these 6 people. These 6 people, they leave, and they come back, in no particular order. Happiness came back when I made my family proud. Happiness came back when I met you. And suddenly Loneliness arrived again in the middle night, but good thing I was stronger now and I made Loneliness leave sooner. Nostalgia came again when I heard this one song that reminded me of my friends. And then Love, Love was here again. And Love confessed, “I am the only one who can be with you always, but sometimes another person makes you feel something more. I was with you since the beginning. I am with you every time you’re with your family and friends. No matter what you’re feeling, I am with you every time you’re with the people that mean so much to you.” And the horrible person named Heartbreak came back again, and as usual, it was ****. But I’m starting to accept Heartbreak’s presence. And I’m currently with Hope. I was with Hope when I attended my first rally last year, when I saw the people who can help change the world and make it a better place. Hope is with me every time I see people who help each other, even if they don’t know each other personally, even if they knew each other on the internet. Hope is with me when I see people never giving up. Hope is with me while I’m writing this piece. And when I knew the truth about these 6 people, I accepted it. I accepted the people I don’t want to leave will do, and the people I don’t want to come back will do. I accepted they’re always here. I accepted they will be here unexpectedly, I accepted that any of them will come sooner or later. And when that time comes, I will greet the person, whoever the person is, “Welcome back.”


*(k.b)

I have always been fascinated by mythology. I remember seeing my older sisters with a greek mythology book, and wishing I could be in high school so I can know it already. I was interested in the mythical creatures, in the gods and goddesses, in the battles, and just like everyone, I was interested in the love stories. I wanted to learn it with passion for I heard it was the inspiration of almost all the modern literature that I love. I could still remember feeling excited to be in class and discuss it. And now that I have reached high school, and I also reached my dream of studying greek mythology and not only that, because I reached it with you. We learned about the titans, the gods and goddesses, the olympians, the monsters, the stories. We were both engrossed and captivated by it, that mythology was the only thing we ever talked about. We even related it to real life, we related people to the characters. Whenever we see a person we know, we would think of the character that best resembles them, and we will start calling them their characters that we decided them to be. We called our friend Athena, we called your cousin Apollo, we even called someone the Minotaur. And that’s what our teacher told us, that not because it’s fantasy that immediately means it cannot happen in real life. The stories there, are reality, the only difference is, they added magic into them. We loved greek mythology so much that we related it to everything. However I realised something, we related it to everything except to ourselves. So I asked you, “Who are we?”. You told me, “Baby, we’re no one there, for we will make our own mythology. We will make the greatest one, so beautiful that it would surpass the best literature of all time.” Your favourite one was Plato’s quote, you would never shut up telling me the story that “humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” And you would always tell me, that you wished to tell Zeus you found yours already. I expected myself to love the romance most, for myself to have the love stories as my favourite. But instead, I loved the opposite,  I loved the tragedies.


I don’t know why, but I found myself loving the tragic stories. I found myself loving the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. The ultimate tragic love story, in which Orpheus would have brought Eurydice back to life if only he had done what Hades said. Orpheus went to the underworld to ask Hades to bring back Eurydice, but Hades had one condition, he should not look back while his wife was still in the dark, for that would undo everything he hoped for. He should wait for Eurydice to get into the light before he looked at her. But then, Orpheus couldn’t control himself, he looked at Eurydice and hugged her, then suddenly Eurydice was drawn back to the underworld.


And who would ever forget Pyramus and Thisbe? The star crossed lovers who had families who hated each other and whispered sweet nothings through a crack in the wall that separates their houses. And they decided to run away, but when Thisbe showed up under the mulberry tree, a ****** jawed lioness was there. So Thisbe ran, and just when Pyramus arrived, he saw the lioness ripping apart Thisbe’s shawl. Thinking that Thisbe died, Pyramus stabbed himself. And when Thisbe returned and figured out what happened, she stabbed herself too. To this day, the formerly white berries of the mulberry tree are stained red with the blood of these tragic lovers.


Here comes my favourite story of all, the myth of Icarus. Icarus and his father attempted to escape from Crete by means of wings that his father constructed from feathers and wax. Daedalus cautioned him that flying too near the sun would cause the wax to melt. And because of hubris, Icarus ignored his father’s instructions and flew too close to the sun. Then the wax in his wings melted and he fell into the sea.


When I was reading the stories, epiphany suddenly hit me. Perhaps the reason why I loved tragedies so much because we’re turning into one. I finally got the answer to my question when I asked you who we are. Maybe we are Orpheus and Eurydice, we loved each other too much that we would do everything just to be together. But we ignored all the warnings, we thought love was the only thing that really mattered. We never got to control our feelings and we forgot everything, because of that, we were separated from each other. Or we could also be Pyramus and Thisbe, we are the perfect definition of lovers who almost made it, who almost achieved happiness, who almost became the greatest lovers of all time but then we never became one, we became tragic ones. And darling, perhaps Icarus resembles us the most. We are both Icarus, our wings, are ourselves,  and love, is the sun. Everybody told us not to get too near the sun, for the wax in our wings will melt, we will lose our wings because we are too close to the thing that could save and destroy us both. And just like Icarus, we disobeyed the rules.  We flew too close to the sun, look at us now.

As we were walking out of each other’s lives, I realised something. We were not meant to create the greatest story of all time that it would top the best literature. We were never making our own mythology, because we were just bound to become another tragedy. Another tragedy that people will love, and I still don’t know why, but people tend to see something beautiful in it. And maybe, just maybe, people will also see something beautiful in our tragic story. But just like Orpheus and Eurydice, Pyramus and Thisbe, Icarus; one thing is for sure, my love. We will achieve a thing we both wanted,  **we will never be forgotten.

I remember you telling me before that you saw yourself as a jigsaw puzzle.* I never understood you then because why would you compare yourself with a thing that requires pieces. You explained that you have 6 pieces in you, pieces that made you, created you. Pieces that were the reason for the person you are today, pieces that helped you function, in other words, pieces that made you whole. That was why you called yourself as a 6 piece jigsaw puzzle. But then one day, you told me all of those pieces were missing. You said someone or something took it away from you and you have no idea how to get them back. You explained to me thoroughly how they were removed from you. The first piece was removed when you were in your room one night, hearing your parents fight, yelling and arguing, telling hurtful things to each other. So you decided to put some headphones on and played some music so you wouldn’t hear their shouts but then they barged into your room saying one of them is leaving and you have to decide which one of them you are coming with, you pretended to not hear them but deep inside of you, even though how loud the volume was, it suddenly stopped without you muting it, because all you could hear was their love for each other slowly fading away. The second piece was removed when one day some unwanted visitors came into your house and they told you they call themselves as demons and that they brought you things that you cannot possibly return; you opened the boxes and see that those things were called depression and anxiety. The third piece was removed when your so called best friends told you they were always there for you but when you were sitting on a bathroom floor filled with blood and hopelessness nobody came to pick you up.  The fourth piece was removed when you someone told you they will help you find those lost pieces but one day she was just not there, and instead of finding the missing ones, one of the remaining was lost again. The fifth piece was removed when you saw him, the love of your life, loving another being that wasn’t you and when you asked why he told you he just couldn’t deal with someone who was like a puzzle that wasn’t solved, you were about to tell him you were once the one he was looking for but then he told you, oh scratch it, a puzzle that could never be solved. And the last and final piece was removed, because life took it away from you. And then suddenly all of those pieces were lost.


I want to help you, i want to do everything just to find those pieces. But you’ve got to help yourself also. You are the biggest help you need, and maybe, just maybe, those pieces can be found in the most unexpected places. Perhaps the first piece can be found when you’re listening to your favourite song and the lyrics felt like blankets that comfort you when it’s cold and suddenly it felt like home. First piece found. Perhaps it’s the feeling of waking up at 5:30 in the morning, feeling ******, and when you went outside, you saw the sunrise, and realised that somehow you can rise again like that. Second piece found. Maybe it was sitting in a cafe, sipping unnecessary caffeine, looking at the people who were passing in front of you, thinking of how much they’ve been through, and still surviving like you, and somehow that made you feel better, that’s why your face formed an unnecessary smile. Third piece found. Maybe it was when it rained so hard, but it doesn’t compare to your tears, you cried and cried, as the rain poured and poured, then the rain suddenly stopped and the sky formed a rainbow, you looked at it and think that maybe your tears can form colours too. Fourth piece found. Perhaps it’s when you can’t sleep at night, so you just look at your scars, before you thought they were ugly and disgusting, they did nothing to you but made you remember how much of a mess you are, but now you look at them in a different way, they weren’t battle scars, because battle was an understatement on how difficult the things they had overcome. And now you see them as a reminder of how much of a soldier you are. Fifth piece found. And maybe, it was when you decided to go to an art museum, you were fascinated by the wonderful paintings, then you thought, you used to be like those works of art; beautiful and important. But then you suddenly heard one painting, whispering you something, it said, a masterpiece is still a masterpiece no matter how broken it is. Sixth piece, and final piece, found.


So, darling, If by means life took those away from you, you should do everything to get those back. And yes, you will tell me, nothing can bring back those pieces anymore, but you can be a puzzle piece that is solved without the pieces you had before, you can find those pieces without asking for help, you can find those on your own, you can make pieces all by yourself. It doesn’t matter how fast you puzzled it out, the only thing that matters is that you solved it. *You solved the jigsaw puzzle. You solved you.  **And guess what? You will be whole again. You will realise you always was, and that is the reason you will not let anyone or anything, change that again.

justice
  
noun*  jus·tice \ˈjə-stəs\

the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.*


I woke up at midnight to the sound of a gunshot. I was beyond scared to look at my window and see what’s happening outside. But I gathered all my courage and got out of my house to see policemen and their vehicles, to see many people emerging to take a look at what’s happening. And then I saw a dead body, a man with a cardboard sign saying he was a drug pusher. It felt like my world dropped at that moment, I couldn’t sleep that night because all I could hear was the sound “BANG!”. The next morning when I went outside I was confused that the people not bothered, that they acting like nothing happened, that they did not care. I asked one guy if he knew what happened last night, and he said yes. I asked him if he was even terrified, if these killings are normal, if the sound that I will be hearing every night is a gunshot, and he said, “Don’t you worry. A gunshot means justice.”


A gunshot means justice. It means if you hear it in the middle of night, it doesn’t matter if that someone is a person you know, it doesn’t matter if you know that person is innocent, because that gunshot means the thing we’ve all been seeking for. It means you don’t have to be scared that people are getting killed everyday without any due process because it’s for the better. It means watching your fellow people die but you have to be happy because they’re bad people, they deserve to be killed and it’s for the country. It’s justice, we’re killing criminals who deserve it. And we promise, innocent people will not be a part of this. But does justice mean a teenager getting shot by the police, and it turns out he wasn’t the one they were supposed to ****? Does justice mean a 12 year old girl getting shot by a stray bullet when she was about to go to church? Does it mean innocent people dying, shattering a teenager’s dreams, taking away the lives of children? A gunshot doesn’t mean justice, especially to the victims. When we live in a Catholic country where people say we’re supposed to follow the bible but when it comes to this they all suddenly forget about God, when people shame you for loving someone because it’s a sin but we’re failing to remember one of the commandments of God, “thou shall not ****”. When we always say we need to forgive people, but drug users and pushers don’t deserve second chances, they deserve death. When they’re asking for help but instead of giving it they pointed a gun to their heads. They said this will keep our nation safe, but does safe mean being frightened to walk at night because you can get killed without even doing something, when the possibility that someone you know will die is too high, when you know that every night another person dies? But all they say is that what we have to do this, to be able to achieve justice.  


But how can justice prevail when the thief who stole money from us got out of jail and is now living happily? When the dictator who stole and killed our people was considered a hero? When the top criminals of our country are now free? When the rich can be given a second chance but the poor gets shot instantly? How can justice prevail when our human rights are being destroyed and forgotten?


justice
noun  jus·tice \ˈjə-stəs\
rightfulness or lawfulness, as of a claim or title; justness of ground or reason

There are millions of dictionaries in the world. And all of them have the word justice. Maybe they have the same, or different meanings. But the word justice suddenly becomes missing when we talk about the victims of the killings.

(k.b)

“Pepsi employee killed in Hawkins car crash.”
“Maine Vice Mayor Deaver killed in car accident in Castle Rock.”
“Woman ‘dead’ after car crash found alive in morgue.”

The news reports on radio echoed through her whole car as she indulged her third bottle of Russian Standard. Weird, she thought; she has been hearing news about road collisions all day. She was sure that the alcohol wasn’t intoxicating her mind to hear different things, she knew she was still sober. Everybody knew she always had low alcohol tolerance, even herself knew that; now she couldn’t even taste the bitterness of the liquor, she feels it inside of her. Drinking was the thing her mother told her to never do, perhaps because it turns her father into a monster with a closed fist as a weapon.

She looked at her rear-view mirror and realised she was travelling alone on an empty road. People had told her before to never travel alone in Derry Road or else something might happen. She wasn’t travelling; she was running away. It fits her, she thought, she and the road were the same; they were both empty.

She heard an unfamiliar noise, like the sound of a steel colliding with another steel. She had realized that her car engine died while she was driving. “Seriously?” she said to herself, “Is everything I own dead now? Like me?”

She stepped outside of her car and walked to find any gasoline stations or houses that could help her. There is no luck for any signs of functioning establishments on an empty road like this, she thought. However, a place filled with buried muscle cars, abandoned pickup trucks, and old bulldozers caught her attention. It’s an empty road. How is there supposed to be a car junkyard? She thought to herself. What’s even stranger is, she didn’t see it while she was driving.

“Well this day couldn’t get any weirder,” she said. First she couldn’t get drunk after drinking three bottles, then she kept on hearing news about car crashes, and now she suddenly saw a car junkyard out of the blue? She opened her hood and a massive smoke appeared, causing her to inhale it. She was coughing while staring at the oils leaking. She didn’t know what to do. She had no choice but to look for people who could help her with her car. She didn’t know anything about it, she didn’t even know what the problem of her car was. She glanced at the sky and saw the sun was slowly setting as well as her hope in what’s happening. She thought to herself, maybe this creepy car junkyard could actually help her.

She walked towards the old car junkyard and the sight of it surprised her. Her eyes widened when she saw people hanging out, beer bottles everywhere, and some couples having the time of their lives.

“May I help you?” A long haired guy who was wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt appeared by her side. She was having second thoughts in answering him back, but she really needed help, especially if she reeks of alcohol on an empty road.

“Yes, actually I was driving and then my car suddenly stopped. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but a smoke appeared and the oils were leaking. I figured you can help me.”

“You think we know everything about cars just because we’re hanging out in a car junkyard?” He asked while laughing. Her embarrassment was overflowing at that moment which caused her to look down, she was still hearing the guy’s chuckles.

“I just guessed. I think.” She said this while looking at the ground since she was too humiliated to look at him. Much to her surprise, his laughter was no longer heard. “Thank God.” She whispered to herself.

“We’ll see what we can do. At the moment, why won’t you just join us?” Join them? Like hang out with people who are in this creepy junk yard? She stood still while ruminating on what she should do. She was feeling a little scared that maybe these people are actually killers or ghosts but there wasn’t really anything to lose for her. This is the place she'd rather be than her house where her mistakes and failures are always included in their dinner conversations.

She walked towards people who were about her age. Girls with vibrant hair colours looked at her from head to toe, some of them smiled at her that caused her to smile too.

“Your car died?” asked a short haired girl holding a beer bottle.

“Yes. This day couldn’t get any worse. Life couldn’t get any worse, from losing everything you have to people you trusted betraying you. My life is as worthless as my rotten car.” she uttered. One problem she has always had was the inability to control her mouth. People tried to cut her tongue before, unbeknownst to them it’s a far more dangerous weapon than their sharp objects.

“If that ain’t the truth.” said the short haired girl while taking a sip of her beer. Seeing people drink their beer bottles triggered her, she was fighting the urge to go back to her car and finish the remaining bottles of her Russian Standard.

“You want one?” the short haired girl asked while giving her the beer bottle. She just shrugged and shook her head, she was never a fan of beers.

The people in the car junk yard continued to hang out and drink their beers. They talked to her and even told some stories, she was enjoying their company. Epiphany suddenly hit her when this one thought crossed her mind; people there talked to her and asked her questions, but they never asked for her name. She never knew even a single name. Abandoned cars, unusual but enthusiastic people, and a junkyard in the middle of an empty road. She was starting to think she visited the labyrinth of lost people with broken cars.

“I hope you guys don’t mind me asking but, who are you and what do you do here?” curiosity was evident in her voice. For the first time, she was starting to care about things.

“We live here.” A husky and deep voice replied, which sent shivers up and down her spine.

“You live here? Like you sleep inside the cars?” Her voice was filled with wonder and a little bit of fear. She has never heard of a lifestyle like this. What about their food? Their money? Their family? These questions surrounded the confused mind of hers.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“I’m sorry if I ask too many questions but how did you guys meet? Like, were you all friends before or did you just meet here?”

“We all met because of one thing, our cars suddenly died. Actually, two things; our cars mysteriously stopped and we all had the desire to walk away from life.”

She immediately felt tiny little bumps over her skin. She thought this was actually a nonexistent place but she was right all along. She was feeling a combination of terror and nonchalance, like a person who is on the verge of death but has already accepted the fate that the heavens had stored for her. People already had their eyes closed while some are still staring at the constellations in the sky, wondering why their lives didn’t shine as bright in the dark as them. She’d rather sleep than look at the stars, for she knows her life would be much better with her eyes closed.

“Are you sure with your decision?” a soft but eager whisper awakened her from her thoughts. She saw the long haired guy staring at her, waiting for her answer.

“What decision?”

“Are you sure you want to walk away from everything already?”

She looked at the guy with annoyance mixed with sarcasm. “What? I’m just sleeping. When my car miraculously work again, I’ll leave immediately.”

“You’re enjoying here, aren’t you?” She didn’t try to utter some words, she knew inside of her that he already knows the answer.

“I was like that too, you know? I thought this was the place where I can finally be free. I finally walked away from my problems, I don’t have to deal with never ending problems and challenges anymore.” He paused, which caused her to look at him and wait for his reply. “But that’s only what I thought.” He said this with a broken voice that she was sure she would never forget.

“But isn’t this junkyard truly for us? For people who failed, for people whose lives don’t deserve to continue anymore. Maybe our cars stopped for a reason, maybe our engines were never meant to be fixed. Maybe we were never meant to be fixed.” She felt tears slowly streaming down her face. She remembered the sight of her lover with the person she trusted the most, she remembered the bathroom floor filled with her own blood, she remembered the bruises on her face after the night her father got drunk.

“At first it was. It felt good. Until I realised that walking away from everything isn’t the solution. It doesn’t make things right, it actually makes them worse. The fact that you didn’t even try to fight is the worst thing.” She felt it. She felt his pain. She didn’t even know who this person was but one thing is for sure, she felt everything this guy had been through.

“But I tried, you know? I tried everything and life still gives me the same, eternal problems that I will never find solutions to.”

She could see his hazelnut eyes travel around her. Her blue eyes that were filled with tears looked at the boy who told her more meaningful words than her own father ever could. “I was like that. I was dumb to think life will always be easy, that I can surround myself with happiness and positivity. But life isn’t like that. Your life will not always be like the rising sun because most of the time it’s a thunderstorm. But I was more dumb to think that the best decision was to run away. I heard all about this place ever since before. I drove all the way from my place to here, thinking I could escape it all. That’s not the right decision. There isn’t a day here when I don’t think of my mother crying while I was in the hospital bed, wondering what she did wrong. I gave up on life when the people in it didn’t give up on me. I was stupid for thinking that I could reach my destination immediately without having a journey. I was stupid to think that I can just drive for 1 kilometre and be at the place I want. It doesn’t work that way, life doesn’t work like that. There will always be a journey, a journey where your car’s engine will be dead in the middle of an empty road, but you will find a way to fix it and drive again.”

“So did you regret your decision?”

“Let’s just say I was too late.” She couldn’t find the right words, she didn’t know what to say. She lets him do all the talking for she knows he can never say these words again.

“Look, I don’t want to be the one who decides for you. Maybe you’re so fed up of everything, I get it. But I’m just asking you to think about it, before everything is too late. And piece of advice, if you decide to leave here, please, don’t ever look back.” Blue meets hazelnut, in that one occurrence, they knew their car engines aren’t the only ones they have in common.

She knew that if she walked away, she was never going to see him again. It seemed impossible that he would tell her his name, but she still took the risk and ask him for it. “Before I go, can I please know your name?”

“My name’s Kevin. Kevin Parks.” His face was filled with regret and sadness. Maybe saying his own name was a struggle for him, he knew he would never hear his loved ones say it again.

She nodded and smiled at him, it’s been too long since she put a smile on her face.

“I’m Rosa.” She said. He smiled, knowing she still has the chance to let the world know her name.

“Tell my mom I’m sorry.” And just like that, he disappeared. She was left alone with the chaotic mind of hers. This was everything she wanted, to finally walk away from everything.

She looked around all the abandoned cars and abandoned souls, this is the place she’s supposed to walk away from. The darkness, the surrendering, the giving up. The people disappeared and the smell of beer and cigarettes were no longer there. Silence was her only companion, and it was the most riveting thing she has ever stumbled upon.

She went inside the rotten car of hers and inserted her key in the ignition when her engine miraculously turned on. Hearing her father’s drunken shouts, covering her scars with bracelets, and seeing people who shattered her are the things she knew she will experience again; this reality lead to Rosa’s hesitance in leaving the car junk yard. However, she thought that maybe she could visit Kevin’s mother and talk about him when he was still not aware of this place. This place, this car junkyard filled with abandoned cars and souls unexpectedly shed a light to the road towards whatever destination she was meant for. For the first time in many years, the sun finally set in her direction again. The rear-view mirror was very tempting to look at, yet she gathered all her courage to put her foot on the gas.

Almost 3 years. That’s all it took, 3 years for me to fall in love with you. We never became anything, it was because I never wanted us to be. I wasted every single thing you gave me. I threw away the flowers you gave me for my birthday because of the reason I thought they were too cliche, I crumpled the love letters you wrote for me for I didn’t want your words to be my medicine, I never accepted the love you were giving me because I refuse to let anyone in. And after 3 years, I realised that I also needed flowers not just thorns, that I was suffering from taking poison for years because I never took your medicine and that sometimes it would be great to let someone in. You gave everything to me, your eyes somehow managed to have some light in them whenever they saw me but I killed the light and turned it into darkness, you do not own your smile anymore since you gave it to me but I returned it to you that’s why right now all you could ever do is frown because I erased it from you, and you gave me your entire universe but unfortunately I wasn’t interested in cosmology back then. But now? There is nothing I want to study but your universe and all that’s revolving around it. I did all of those things,  maybe that’s why you became the first word of this paragraph. You became my almost, and not just an ordinary one, but an almost that I could never ever forget.

We were the children of love, however timing wants us to be orphans.  Just when I started realising my love for you, you found yourself. You built your own universe and your smile became even more happier than before, your eyes speak a thousand words now, they are no longer the ones I wasted. I would do anything if I could ever just turn back time, I would hold you and tell you that I feel the same, I would give you all the things you gave me, I would do anything for you. Too many could have been, should have been, and what ifs. But nothing could ever change what is happening, perhaps it’s right for me to feel this, to feel this pain, the pain that I gave you. Love wanted us to feel the same. Timing does too, but the difference is timing wants us to feel the same pain. I don’t want to beg you to love me, or to stay, or to do everything just to bring back the flames because baby all I am about to do is to hope.  I will not hope for you,  but I will hope for days.

I hope for the day everything would finally be okay. I hope for the day that we are both happy, and that we are ready to make each other happier. I hope for the day that we can both see the moon in our eyes and the sun in our smiles. I hope for the day that we are both prepared to let each other in, and that we are no longer cowards but brave people. I hope for the day that we are finally exploring each other's universe and we will both realise that is the only thing we would ever want to study. I hope for the day our fire will warm us both instead of burning us to death. I hope your water will cleanse me and mine will make you feel alive instead of drowning each other because of our deep oceans. I hope for the day that we can finally heal one another instead of destroying each other. I hope for the day that we consider each other to be our home, not just some place you can go to because you don’t have anywhere else to stay. I hope that we will no longer fight the hurricanes and storms we gave to each other, because one day, we would conquer them, hand in hand, together.  I hope for the day that you are no longer my almost, but my always.  And maybe, one day, timing will be our friend not our foe, or maybe we would even be strong enough to fight it, but right now we aren’t even strong enough to fight for our love. I will hope for these days to come, I will hope for these things to happen, I will hope for everything. Because that’s the only thing I could do right now.

In every battle, it is impossible to never have a speech. I have noticed that in watching movies. Like in Independence day, the President delivered a speech to the U.S Fighter Pilots before the battle. “ Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world.”, yeah that’s how it goes. Or like King Aragorn’s battle speech at the black gate in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, “Hold your ground! Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers”, he said. And it can even be a simple “May the force be with us” before battling with the galactic empire. And you cannot only see that in movies, there are speeches in real life which also inspired people to fight, like Patrick Henry’s Give me Liberty or Give me death, Winston Churchill’s We Shall Never Surrender, and our battles in our lives. Everyone will always encounter battles in their lives, and maybe we also had speeches for ourselves, created by us, for us, to continue fighting. And they say having a mental illness also means undergoing a battle. Many battles, and one of them, is a battle against the stigma. A battle to end the stigma of mental health. And now I will deliver my speech, to everyone of you, this is my battle speech, telling you to stop romanticizing them.


Poems **** once said that depression is a strange, yet comforting feeling. Comforting feeling, when you feel absolutely terrible, that even eating ice cream and watching your favourite movie can’t do anything to make you feel better. And when they ask you what’s wrong, the worse part is you don’t know. When you’re all alone, and no one is there for you, so you just feel like your inner demons are hugging you and telling you to just end everything. It’s when people tell you that happiness is a choice, it’s like a multiple choice exam, in which you just choose the best answer, but why does it seem to me that the choices I got were nothing compared to the best, and where is happiness? It’s none of the above. There is nothing comforting, nothing artistic, nothing beautiful about depression. It is not an artsy tumblr poem, it’s not an aesthetic, it’s not something you wish you could have,  depression is a total *******!


A twitter account said that anxiety is just another form of excitement. So does it mean that when I have panic attacks, I am just excited? When I avoid everyday situations, when I can’t get out of my house, when I can’t even get out of my bed, because all of those things cause me anxiety. When I expect the worst in everything that I do and it will ruin the hell out of me. When I’m in a job interview, and I suddenly have my panic attack. When I feel that in every place I will go to, I will experience danger and catastrophe. So you see, that anxiety is not another form of excitement, it is not a trend, it’s a difficult thing to have, it's experiencing chaos everyday in your life and who would want that?


Why do we think that having mental illnesses are wonderful? Why do we wish to have them when there are people suffering? Why are we belittling them, telling them they’re crazy, that it’s all in your mind, but can’t you see, that having chaos inside my mind is the most difficult thing you could ever have. Why do we think they’re weak, when they are fighting battles everyday and they never give up. Why do we think that people with mental illness are just asking for attention when they are asking for help because that’s the thing they need? Imagine that the demons inside of you gave you a gift that you didn’t want, and you can’t seem to destroy it, to leave it, because you think your demons have won. But they didn’t, and they will never. And we are fighting with you, we are with you.


In every battle, there will always be the ones who win. The ones who will achieve the greatest feat, happiness and contentment. But they say, that this battle against the stigma, is a never ending war. However, have you all forgotten who we are? If this is a never ending war, then we are the  fighters.  And we will never ever stop fighting.


*(k.b)

Every person in this world has a name. Of course, the first thing in life that makes us all different is our name. Or names, perhaps. I know someone who has four names, Marie France Antoinette Anne. I’m friends with someone who has 3 names, Eivram Jan Heaven. Even though 3-4 names are probably hard to have, it’s kind of amazing because it adds a lot to your singularity. And the best example of them all are two names, my best friend’s name is Khelsy Gayle, my eldest sister’s: Christina Andrea, my other sister’s name is Francesca Julia and my name is Kelly Denise. And we all here, don’t even bother to deny it, has a nickname. My best friend’s name is Chellsie and everybody calls her Che. Both of my classmates are both Joshua, and they only have one name, so my teacher, in order for us to not be confused, decided to call the one who has a surname that starts with C, JC and the surname that starts with D, JD and until now we still call them by those names. And in some cases, we pick nicknames by different choices. My eldest sister’s nickname is Zoe and my other sister’s nickname is Franny because my mom loved JD Salinger so much that she named my sisters from her favourite fictional siblings. Maybe my mother wasn’t expecting me, so she didn’t name me from an iconic literary character, or a famous philosopher. Instead, she called me with a nickname that I will be known till the day that I die, it’s called ‘Keidy’. And, to be honest, I hate that nickname. But hey, I have no choice. Or we can all be known for the things that we did. Daenerys Targaryen has a lot of names, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Protector of the realm and so on and so forth. Or you can be Arya Stark, who is  No One. An example of a name that people force to be known as but they will never achieve because she will always be Arya Stark of Winterfell.

You see, names are wonderful. It's a proof that everyone in this world, is different. And what a magical thing it is, living in the same world with different people who have different views. And to mention, same views. We all here share same views, and maybe, some of us here even share the same name.

But in every woman’s life, we share the same names. People call us with names that we don’t even have. Each of us have been called or will be called these names.


You will call us, doll. You told us we have so much cuteness in us and we are as beautiful as dolls, and we don’t have any problem with that. Little did we know that some of you don’t really admire our beauty but instead think of us as toys. Toys that you can control, toys that you think would do everything that you want. You will teach us what that we should do, you will teach us what to say and how we should act, you will teach us everything like you own us. And after we do everything that you told us to you will call us good girls.  Good girl,  continue following me.  Good girl,  get ready for more, like we are toys. But of course, you will not call us toys because girls and toys are the same for you, right?

We were taught to be clean, we were raised to be pure. That chastity is the most important thing that every woman should have. And for sure, you all want our purity, but when we disagree like we were taught to you will call us prudes. ***** for choosing who I open up to. ***** for not letting you inside my temple when I am the landlord making choices.  ***** for saying no, because your ego is far more important than my consent. And when we say yes, you will call us *****. Choosing what to do to your own body is a not a thing you should do. Expressing your sexuality is a sin to this world when you’re the one who does it. A woman’s pleasure, is not a real thing. Because we’re not allowed to have one, because we are known for giving one. We are known as ******, as women who are not clean and pure. Who spend their lives offering their bodies like they're the only thing that we can offer. You will shame us for being filthy and disgusting when you’re the reason why we are here in the first place. We are here to pleasure you, to give you what you want. But when we are the ones who would like to experience it, the world suddenly goes mad. We should not experience any pleasure but they can all the time. And when we finally speak for what’s right, our names will suddenly become *******. A ***** for speaking up, a ***** for doing the thing that I should have done ages ago, a ***** for fighting back. A ***** for being strong to be able to remove the tight grip of your hands to my mouth that has been keeping it shut, a ***** for removing the word ’silence’ in my vocabulary, a ***** for being brave to destroy the power that have kept me powerless for a long time.

Woman, I agree that we should be called names. We should be known as fire, a fire so powerful that can lit up the entire world, and burn you for playing with us the entire time. We are warriors fighting for the right thing, warriors that are strong enough to combat all the wrong doings. We are magic,we can do things that everyone never expected we could. Our mind, is the most beautiful place anyone will ever come across.
We are women, and that one word, is more than enough to make people know our value. Woman, the next time they will call you names you do not approve of, tell them. Woman, the next time they lecture you with the things you should do knowing you have your own decisions in life, **** them with your independence. Woman, make them tremble when they realise you are one. Woman, prove them all wrong. Woman, the next time they belittle you; do not let them.

Doctors say that babies learn to talk during the first two years of their lives, they’re learning the rules of language and how adults use it to communicate. They’ll begin by using their tongue, lips and any growing teeth to be able to make sounds. And soon, these unknown sounds that your baby uttered will become real words, such as ‘mama’ or ‘papa’, that will bring tears to your eyes as early as six months. From then on, your baby will pick up more words from you and everyone else around. And sometime between 18 months and 2 years, your baby will begin to form two- to four-word sentences. As babies make mental, emotional, and behavioral leaps, they are increasingly able to use words to describe what they see, hear, feel, think, and want. In this world, age is not just a number. It’s the basis of everything. The right age to study, the right age to watch films, the right age to fall in love, the right age to do everything, because there will always be a proper age for something. However, there are times in your life when you don’t know if you truly are in the right age, and when does your age become proper or improper to something. Many people don’t believe that I’m only 15 because of the reasons I write “deep” poetry and that I speak of certain issues that a 15 year old shouldn’t mind. So sometimes, I also wonder the things they do, am I really just 15? Now whenever someone asks me how old I am, I will just say I-don’t-know years old.

People will celebrate and rejoice the time a baby speaks for the first time, but right now, when young people speak, everybody will do the opposite. I’ve preached so much about equality and one of the responses I got was “You’re too young.” A group of millennials went to a rally to achieve justice and fight against history revisionism but apparently they don’t have the rights to speak because how could they know about it when they haven’t even experienced it? Oh and of course, the famous reason that they’re too young, they can’t do anything. When young people speak about something, everybody will shame them and throw them numbers while saying “Check your ages first before you begin talking.” But we did already, we checked our ages, we checked history, we checked facts, things which you clearly didn’t do. So the millennials explained, told them about history and why they don’t want it to happen again, told them they don’t need to experience something first before showing empathy, and that apathy isn’t a very good trait. But the people covered their ears, and told them, “Shut up. you know too much, you temperamental brats.” So that will leave us, the youth, confused. That a couple of months ago they’re complaining that we don’t know about anything and now they’re complaining because we do. Why do people shame us for not doing something and doing something at the same time? Why do people feel like they are entitled to when we should speak up? Like their jobs are putting tapes to our mouths and shut us up whenever they want to. But it’s not our fault that reality opened our eyes too early, but it will be ours if we shut them. So we were the ones who chose not to, we were the ones who chose to fight, to speak and to do something about it. And as they shame us for speaking up and knowing too much, we fight and rise to have the thing the world always wanted. My voice, my single voice, will make a difference that no one absolutely expected, and when we have our voices combined, think of the things we could change, or possibly, think of the things we could save. We will speak, shout, chant and fight together and they will realise the power of the people, they will realise we are unconquerable. You know what they say, when a fire starts to arise, people will do everything to put it out. But if you’re using your flames in a right way, do not let them end yours. Use them to light the darkness in the world, use them to warm up the cold things, use your fire to ignite.

When they tell you you’re too young to be able to change something, prove to them that courage and persistence have no age. Speak up, remove the tight grip in your mouth that has been keeping it shut for too long, fight for what’s right. The moment they hush you and ask for your age, tell them. Tell them how young you are and your desire to make a difference, tell them your passion to strive and tell them you’re never going to stop. **And from now on, never let them silence you.

You had a lot of fears. From the day that I first met you, you told me you were afraid of many things. I thought you were overreacting since that was one of the things you usually do, but I had a glimpse of realization when we were in a room one night and I turned off the lights, you touched my arm and asked me to turn it on again. When one afternoon we were about to watch a movie and the only choices were a horror film and a sappy love story that was just 11% on rotten tomatoes, but you still begged for me to choose the bad one. When your cousin was rushed into the hospital then you saw a patient that had an accident being submitted into the emergency room, you suddenly walked away. And when we went to the cemetery and suddenly you told me you were sort of feeling uneasy. You said sorry to me because I will be loving a person who is a coward, and then you started explaining me your four phobias.

Nyctophobia.  A phobia characterized by a severe fear of the dark. You couldn’t sleep with the lights off that’s why you always had a lampshade by your side. I always preferred darkness, and you preferred the opposite. When we were sleeping and I was facing your back, I asked you why and when did it start, you just said with a cold voice, “Everybody hates darkness. People's darkness, all kinds of darkness, especially mine.” I told you, “Not me.”, only to found out you were already asleep. And yet I still did it, I looked into your darkness and explored it. I didn’t see pure darkness, what I saw were tears formed by solitude, your past that you were trying so hard to forget, your broken pieces that you abandoned for they could never be fixed, and stars. My love, I saw stars. You thought darkness consumed you so much that you didn’t have light in you anymore, but you still have. Your soul was the perfect combination of lightness and darkness, and I loved them both. Even in your darkest times. I loved it even more when I came home late at night and was surprised it was all dark, you didn’t have a lampshade beside you anymore.

Phasmophobia.  Fear of ghosts. The word originates from Greek word 'phasmos' which means 'supernatural being/phantom’.  That’s why we all had movies and books with all genres except horror, except the ones with ghosts. You had a nightmare back then, filled with ghosts, I held you and assured you they aren’t real. While crying, you said, “They are. And the worst are the ones you never expected.” I didn’t get you that time, but I did the moment I saw one too when we went back to your old neighbourhood. They were the ghosts of your past. The ones who left you and still visit you in your sleep. And the different thing here, is that you never treated them as ghosts, instead you treated them as angels. That’s why whenever they scare you at night you mistake ‘guiding’ from ‘haunting.’ But you see, I promise you, that I will never be a ghost of your past, because I am your present and your future. I will also not be your angel because I will never be one, but I will be your someone. Someone who will help you overcome your fear of them, someone who will hold you tight every time they come to you, someone who will make you forget that you even had ghosts in your life. I may be just a someone, but I will be that someone who is always there.

Hemophobia.  The extreme and irrational fear of blood.  You wounded yourself one day and when I was healing you, you kept your eyes closed, because you don’t want to see your blood. You hated white sheets with passion and refused to have them anymore, for blood becomes more visible when it drops on them. And when I was throwing away the sheets I started to realize, I am the girl who bleeds poetry but falls in love with someone who is afraid of blood. You hated red for it signifies pain, you hated blood for it is a reminder that somebody or something hurt you so bad. So I wounded myself, I bled with words that could save you, I didn’t care how many scars I will be getting as long as you know that this blood that is pouring is not caused by pain, but by love. And when my wounds became severe already, you were the one who healed me, the healing didn’t really help that much since you weren’t looking. However one morning, I woke up with my scars getting better and a new bed sheet, it was white.

And your last fear, necrophobia.  The fear of death.  That was the first fear that you have ever told me and I asked you, “Why? Everyone will go there at some of point of their lives. Even us. The thing is you should not think about it.” But you said it was hard, you said it was hard to not think that one day everything will be over soon, that you will be buried to the ground and after some time, people will forget about you and will only remember you when they see your tombstone. I never understood you. I never got to. And that was also the only fear that I didn’t help you overcome. You never did, instead, you accepted it. I knew it by the moment you asked me,

“What are we?”, while playing with my hair.

I sat straight and looked you in the eye,  “We’re in love. And that’s like dying, isn’t it?”

Your beautiful smile vanished from your face and I looked down, knowing that is your greatest fear. I was surprised when you said these words with the voice that I have never heard before,  “As long as I’m dying with you, everything is fine.”

You looked at me like I was the only one you have ever seen. The thing is, I don’t know a lot of things and I have no idea what to do.  But for now, baby,  let us just let love **** us both.

*(k.b)

One morning, I decided to ask people what their favorite myth is. I asked them what myth did they think was the greatest, and the one that made a huge impact on them. The most interesting one, the myth that would keep you wanting for more. Some people said vampires, some people said dragons, some said the origin of the world, and of course, most of them said the famous Greek mythology. And I asked some, what myth do they think is the most unlikely thing to happen, what is the myth that will never be real? And I was taken aback when some said their favorite myth was **** culture, followed with laughter. As if it’s a myth, as if it’s fiction, as if it’s something that isn’t real.


**** culture is a myth. It’s not real. It’s not happening. Apparently, it’s just a work of fiction for some people. Apparently it is a myth when it’s happening everyday. It is a myth when you report it to them, and instead of asking “Are you okay?”, the first question they will ask is “What were you wearing?”. Because your skirt was the reason, your sleeveless top was the one that gave them permission. And when you told them you were wearing sweatshirt and pants, they will ask you “Were you drinking?”. When someone took away something that is yours without consent and you’ll be the one blamed. Because you were wearing shorts, because you were drinking, because you were just outside. When we teach women everything about not getting ***** but we don’t teach men to simply not ****. When our bodies are nothing to you but to objectify. When you see us and think the word sexualize. When they asked you whether you said no or stop, and if you didn’t, you liked it. It was consensual. But you never said yes, and it’s not ****, right? It is not real when people shame the victim, when the help people are giving you are words such as “****”, “*****”, and instead of calling you a survivor you will be known as “the girl who was asking for it”. It is a work of fiction when nothing happens to the ******, or when some even refuse to call that person a “******”. You will see headlines describing him as an athlete, as someone who has scholarship, any good thing but ******. It is a myth when the ****** runs free, but the victim is still suffering and constantly being shamed. It is a myth when the world thinks men who are getting ***** are weak men, when they don’t think the consent of men are also important. When people continue to joke about something that can ruin someone else’s life. Apparently all of these things aren’t real, these things aren’t happening.



But how could one person even think that **** culture is a myth? That **** culture doesn’t exist? It’s not like the trojan war, because it’s far more chaotic. It destroys and kills people. It lets bad people win and victims suffer. It’s not like vampires who don’t sleep and **** people’s blood, instead this is even more dangerous than vampires. This normalizes something dangerous, something horrible. And the people who do it, who contribute to it, and who do nothing to stop it? Are worse than monsters in mythology. And why would we even call it a myth when we learn something good in myth? When myth teaches us something good in life? **** culture is not a myth, **** culture is happening everywhere. When you turn on the television and see comedians joking  about ****, when people call the **** victim they know a ****, when people don’t believe someone when he/she reports it to them, when until now, **** is still considered inevitable. **** culture is not a myth, **** culture is real, **** culture is happening. And they say **** culture is part of the reality that we have to face, but what do we do to things that bring us no good? To things that damage our reality? We do everything we can to stop them, to destroy them, to crush them. And that needs to happen to **** culture,  **now.

I have always been known as the person who remembers everything.* Not just big and major things, even the small ones. Every time my family and I are going on adventures I am the one who remembers the place and the travel route. When we went out of town one time I can still remember when we asked a man in the streets for directions and it turned out he told us the wrong way, and me, being the scared little child, I was asking for my mom to just drive back and go home. Fortunately, we arrived to our destination and I remember that it was 12 am when we got there and I was too tired to function. I still remember the name of the resort we stayed in, I remember the design of the swimsuit I was wearing, it has the number 21 in it, and I remember posing for a photo where I was wearing goggles and I made it my profile picture on Facebook. I remember the name of one hotel in that town was similar to my ex crush’s last name that’s why my sisters were teasing me about it.

That one time we joined a halloween costume contest and my costume was a cheerleader (cheerleader in Glee, specifically speaking) and my sister went as a ballerina but we all know that wasn’t a costume because she is also a ballerina in real life. I knew she never wanted to go with me, but as usual, i needed someone to be with. I remember the costumes that the people were wearing, that the white lady was the one who won the best in costume. I remember how sweet the halloween candies were. I remember that a stranger took a picture of us, and me, being the usual one who overthinks, got scared and asked my sister if we could leave already.

I remember going to the mall with my sister before and I accidentally stepped on a lady’s foot and she got so angry with me and I became frightened. I remember ordering a green mango shake and didn’t finish it because it was too sour, and then my mother scolded me and until now she’s still bringing that up whenever I try to order a shake. I remember watching A Series Of Unfortunate Events one Christmas and after that I became obsessed with it and it was the only thing I’ve watched for weeks. I remember the girl I met in a cafe, she was wearing a yellow dress and **** I remember her smile was brighter than the sun. I remember all the things that happened the night I lost my concert virginity, it happened January 24, 2015 and when they played my favourite songs it felt like home. I remember the perfume I was wearing when I had a date with one guy so whenever I smell it I will always remember his eyes.

I can still remember the song that was playing the night when we were dancing, the night where it started it all, and baby, I remember how you took my hand and suddenly I felt electricity in my body. I remember being at a friend’s house after that night and when she tried to show me photos of us I couldn’t look at them without smiling and thinking of the feeling you gave me. I remember spending a lot of nights thinking of you and promising myself I wouldn’t fall and that was when I knew everything was going to be a mess. I remember the night when there was a storm and you texted me and asked how was I doing, and then the following days consisted of us texting each other. I remember one afternoon when you asked me if I could be yours and you could be mine, I remember the nervousness in your voice and the way you were scared for the answer I was about to say, and I also remember the happiness in your face when I answered your question. I remember feeling contented with everything when our fingers intertwined and I remember feeling safeness when your arms were wrapped around my body. If I would tell all the things I remember then this poem wouldn’t be finished and will be proclaimed as the longest poem that was ever written. But one thing is for sure, I remember it, all.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember the pain. I remember how it hurt the first time you lied to me and how your apology suddenly removed all the pain away. I remember how I asked you if you’re giving up on me already and you just told me you didn’t know. I remember the days we didn’t talk to each other and I spent my nights crying myself to sleep and when we finally talked, it didn’t feel the same. I remember you getting too tired to fix my broken pieces because you have been wounded by them so bad so you just walked away and left them even more broken than before. I remember your hands that were too strong before, too strong to hold me, I remember how I made them weak that’s why you can’t hold on to mine anymore and had to let go of your tight grip. I remember you replacing the word ‘promise' with ‘sorry’, ‘I am always here’ with ‘I wish I was there for you’, ‘I would never leave you’ with ‘I guess this is goodbye.’ I remember you leaving, like everybody else does. I vividly remember it.

But what bugs me the most is that I couldn’t remember some things, I was known as the person who remembers everything but then there came things that I couldn’t recall, even some moments of them. I couldn’t remember the sincerity in your eyes when you told me I was beautiful, I couldn’t remember you being there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on, I couldn’t remember how you would do everything just to ease the pain, I remember you telling me you love me but I couldn’t remember you meaning it. It bothers me how I remember the smallest details in everything, how I could remember the colour of my first iPhone case, the meal I ate when I was 7 years old and watching my favourite cartoons, the t-shirt I wore on a birthday party before. But I couldn’t remember the things that were worth remembering.

And then it hit me, epiphany hit me.  **I only remember the things that really happened. I only remember the things that were real. I only remember the things that were true.

I was taking a bath at 3 in the afternoon. Just finished brushed my teeth, now staring at the water below me, about to rinse off my shampoo while thinking of you. And then a certain thought came to my mind, this moment already happened. I don’t know how many times, probably twice or thrice but I remember looking at the pouring water and thinking of your love that has kept cleansing me. Not only the setting is same or the thought is similar but also the feeling that I have was the feeling I exactly felt when this thing happened. I remember dreaming that I was already running late for school and so I got ready so quickly as if I only have 5 minutes of my life left and when I already reached our classroom, all my classmates were staring at me like I murdered someone and the feeling was horrible. As I was dying from embarrassment, I suddenly woke up. Everything changed but it felt like nothing happened, then all of a sudden I was in a zoo, all dressed up with a camera, and a snake was about to **** me, and as I was dying from fear I woke up sweating. I checked my phone and it said it was midnight. I couldn’t remember what I was thinking back then but in that moment, the only words that came out of my mouth were “It was a dream within a dream.” When I was answering my math exam, I couldn’t think of anything to answer, I couldn’t even think of what to do in trigonometry, so I did the famous eenie meenie because I have already accepted that I was beyond bad when it comes to numbers, but I remember wishing that the Kelly Bitangcol in the parallel universe is a mathematician.


Déjà vu, dreams, parallel universe, what really are those? How does the uncanny sensation that you’ve experienced something before, that an event is repeating itself possible? Why do we dream and what even are dreams? Are we alone in this world? Is there another world? Or are there other worlds? Thousands of questions and all you get for an answer are 3 words, the great unknown. And that is what keeps everyone wondering right? Things we don’t know.  We keep on searching for answers even if takes decades to get them and until now the mysteries aren’t solved. So what we do is create our own ideas, our own theories. I think that our dreams are events that are happening to our other selves in another universe, and maybe your other selves are also dreaming of what is happening to you here. I think déjà vu is an event that already happened to us in another world so when we experience that moment for the first time, we feel that it already happened before. I always think of other versions of me, maybe one Kelly likes sports, maybe one Kelly is quiet and mysterious, maybe one Kelly loves math or maybe one Kelly is the very opposite of me.


But in the alternate dimensions, I wonder, would we meet? Would you ever come across to the sporty version of me? Would you never give up to unravel my mysteries? Would you like the mathematician Kelly? Would you fall in love with my opposite? I also made theories about your other selves, perhaps you’re a rockstar in one, perhaps the other version of you likes to paint, or perhaps one version of you abhors me. We could be staring at the stars in another universe, unable to tell our feelings for each other. We could be teammates in a math club. I could be sitting on a park bench while reading a book, and you are jogging, and as you decided to take a rest and sit on a bench I already left for class. We could be two people that would come across on the street, unable to look at each other, because we’re holding someone else’s hand. We could be anything in other worlds, we could be enemies, we could be just friends, or we could be strangers. And so I realised, that this version of me is beyond glad to meet that version of you in this one world out of no one knows how many. I do not like sports, I am not quiet and mysterious, I am horrible when it comes to math. You are not a rockstar, you cannot paint, but the thing is, I met you and you met me. We met one another and have known each other, we saw our imperfections and flaws and the things we couldn’t do that we wished we could. Maybe in another universe we could do all those things but we don’t have one thing there that we have here, each other. But hear me when I say this, if ever all of these are true, if I have lots of versions and you have many, whether there are things you can do or can’t, whether you’re worse or you’re better, one thing is certain. I will no longer spend decades to find an answer, I wouldn’t need to wonder anymore because it is not unknown. Baby, if there are millions of different you and millions of worlds, I know a thing for sure.  I would still choose this, I would still choose you.

*k.b

When I was younger I bit my tongue so hard that all you can see in my mouth is blood and the colour red. They thought it wasn’t severe and just a normal bite but they didn’t know that bite would change my life. My mother brought me to a doctor who she called “stupid”. The doctor told me that in order to stop the bleeding, he will need a thread and a needle, to do the job of putting stitches to my tongue. My mother thought, “Is this doctor crazy? Sewing my daughter’s tongue? Is he serious?”, my mother was worried about the things that are bound to happen to my tongue, that it will connect to my speaking, that I will have a speech deficiency, but that time all I worried about was the pain. Of course, I was young, and kids were afraid of pain. Kids were afraid of bruises, wounds, blood. But they were never afraid of the world, instead, they loved it. But now, I think I see it in a different way. Thinking of all the things that are happening to my life I think the doctor is sending me a different message. A needle, a thread, putting stitches to my tongue, I think this doctor is telling me to shut up. At such a young age, he was warning a little girl who didn’t even know reality yet to keep her mouth shut, does he know that these things would happen when I grow up? That the moment my eyes will be open by reality my entire perspective will change? That I won’t let my voice not to be heard? That my tongue will serve as my gun and my words will be the bullets that can ****? I wondered if he knew, but I also wonder how is he now, where is he. Because I would want to say some words that I didn’t get to say before when I was just a small child who had her tongue held back to prevent her for the words she was about to say.

I would want him to know that I will not keep my mouth shut.

I will not keep my mouth shut because we tell young girls how they should act, what they should wear. Don’t go to the streets in the middle of the night, don’t wear that, that’s too short. Because ever since we were young we already needed validation from everyone.
I will not keep my mouth shut because we teach girls how to prevent being harassed instead of teaching people to stop harassing girls. Because the questions you will get after that are “What were you wearing?”, “Were you drunk that time?”, and that oh so famous line “Maybe you were asking for it.” Did you think I dressed up that night and got drunk because I was waiting for someone to ruin my life?
I will not keep my mouth shut because we still make jokes about ****, we still think it’s funny, we think something that could destroy someone else’s life is hilarious. And you tell us, “Lighten up, couldn’t you take a joke?”.
I will not keep my mouth shut because my clothes determine my consent, the shortness of my skirt will tell you that I want your hands to touch my thighs, my sleeveless top will send you a confirmation that I want your skin to touch the different parts of my body. That I don’t have my own name because you are throwing different ones to me, I never knew my name on my birth certificate was “hot thing.” But then you did it again while I was wearing long sleeves and jeans, what’s your excuse now?
I will not keep my mouth shut because you think that being a woman is an insult, you will shout phrases like “You’re such a girl.”, “You fight like a girl.”, because we are seen as damsels in distress that are always in need to be saved, because we are the weaker ***, right? But why, that when the moment we already fight and be the heroes of our own that makes us less of a woman and more of a man.
I will not keep my mouth shut because when a boy gets harassed you will tell him to “man up, dude.”, because boys are meant to be strong and women are meant to be pretty, because boys should avoid being sensitive and girls should not be powerful, because blue is for boys and pink is for girls, but didn’t it ever crossed your mind that maybe colours and descriptions could be for both?
I will not keep my mouth shut because we always need to be modest, hush, act like a lady, the way of your sitting is not very ladylike, your clothes are not really for girls, your taste in music isn’t fit for a lady like you. Because you see us a delicate flower that you can pick and own all the time. But let me tell you this, we aren’t just flowers, we are fire. And when you play with us,  prepare to be burnt.
I will not keep my mouth shut because all my life that’s what you’ve been telling me, and after that say sorry. Say sorry for fighting for your rights, say sorry for speaking up, say sorry for not being silent. And tell me, does my voice terrify you? I hope it does.
I will not keep my mouth shut and I am not sorry about it,
I will not keep my mouth shut because I can not,
I will not keep my mouth shut and I never ever will.

After our encounter with the crazy doctor, we found another one, the second doctor, and he said, there’s no need for sewing, you will only need to put some ice to stop the bleeding. I think he even gave me a frozen delight. I didn’t get to thank him before and now I want to see him and see what he’s doing. I think he forgot to give me a message before, a message that he was dying to tell but couldn’t because I was only a child, but now I think I know it. I think I heard him say these words to me in my dream last night:

**“Not because you bit your tongue, that doesn’t stop you from speaking. Don’t be silent, speak up.”

It was 3 in the morning when I woke up with your voice, your hands were in my arms, telling me to wake up. I was beyond ****** because I was having a really good sleep, I asked you what was the matter, and I told you if it wasn’t that important I would **** you, I said those words with a sleepy voice.

You told me, “I just found myself craving for something.”

I asked you, “Craving for what?”

“For adventure. An unforgettable one.”

3 am is the time when I get to be myself the most, that’s what you said. That’s why it had to be that time. You wanted to have an adventure, one where you cannot absolutely forget. One that will move you and you will never be the same after that. Suddenly, my state of being sleepy became my state of being awake, I became awake as hell when you told me that.

“I know a place,” I saw the twinkle in your eye and the smile on your face, I never saw you that excited before.

“After you enter it, your entire life will change. It will consist of colourful skies, stars that shine so bright and a sun that lights the entire place. You will see thoughts that could change the world, and ideas that could possibly save it. You will meet different people, people that will change your perspective about different things, especially love and life. As you walk and walk, maybe even run, you will see an ocean. You will feel the waves as if they were chasing you, you will feel the sand on your feet and water touch your skin, perhaps it was begging for you to let it in. You will look at me, waiting for an answer, I won’t give you one, instead I will give you a question, “Will you?”. You will no doubt see it as the most beautiful and divine place you have ever been, I will feel happiness and tell you that the adventure is already over. But you will be begging for me to extend it and take you to much further places of this realm, and no doubt also you will eat your words when you see the deeper parts. You will see places covered with dust and smoke, the remains of something broken and destroyed. You will see a house that used to be a home, and now it is burnt because of too much fire. You will asked me what happened, I will tell you once in a while, a hurricane arrives. A hurricane arrives and it will make the colourful sky become the darkest, the shade of blue will become the shade of gray, the stars that shine so bright will die and the sun that lights the entire place will set, tragically. The thoughts and ideas will turn into destructive ones, something that is the opposite of save, they will destroy the world. The different people you met, they changed you, and sometimes change comes with destroy. The ocean you saw, the one you thought you made your greatest choice of letting it in, became your worst mistake ever. You let it in too much that it consumed you already, and drowned you. All the things that made you feel alive became the things that were killing you inside, and suddenly the place that was once peaceful became a place filled with chaos. The paradise will turn into a debris because of one hurricane. However, that’s not the worst part yet. Sometimes it happens both, the storm and the summer, it will **** you and resurrect you, it will heal you and destroy you at once. You are drowning and at the same time you are floating, and you don’t know which one is really happening. You will see the biggest creation and destruction of all time. That’s why its called the realm of paradise and debris, the chaos and the calm.  And the most intriguing part is, you don’t know which one will win.”

Your eyes formed galaxies again, as if they saw the greatest thing ever. I saw the smile in your face as if the world revolves around us two, and as if we are going to unravel the secrets of the universe. You were filled with enthusiasm and curiosity when you asked me, “But what do you call it?”

I smiled as if I owned the world, “Oh, darling. I call it my mind,” I noticed your smile changed and your eyes filled with darkness, they became worse when I asked for the last time, *“Are you ready to enter it?”

The people in my life are the ones who choose my lover. They gather around every 6 years, telling each other’s choices; sometimes uniting, sometimes not. You would see people arguing, saying that her choice is better than hers, saying that his choice won’t bring any good to me. However, all these arguments don’t matter in the end because in this situation, majority always wins.

I once had a lover named Mark. I will never forget my life with him. My life was filled with his austereness back then, he would always it’s for my own sake. He told me that he loved me so much, that he would do everything for me. Mark was showing signs of abusiveness that people noticed it. He made sure that the people who update our relationship would be careful, or in other ways would not criticise him and just shut up. So he abolished them and made them lose their jobs. The criticism became wider and wider, more people decided to speak up and stand against him. Mark hurt everyone who opposed of him, torture them in different ways. My children got *****, the brave ones got killed, those who fought were imprisoned, and he was stealing everything that I have. He told everyone he loved me, but he did nothing but ruin me. He left me with a wound that will never ever be healed.

People told me to move on and forgive him, but how can I move on from something that wasn’t resolved? How can I forgive him when he wasn’t apologetic of what he did, instead he was proud of it. How can I forget something that caused people to die, families be apart, my life getting stolen, and the destruction of myself?

Decades went by, people chose a new lover for me. His name is Drew, and people say he remind them of Mark. Both stern, tough, and claim they want the best for me. Drew admired Mark, and he did the similar things. He silence people who criticise him, treat women like pieces of meat that aren’t meant to be respected, **** the victims of poverty instead of helping, take the lives of innocent people away and describe them as collateral damages. He also tells all of these things are for the betterment of me. People suddenly forget our history, people continue to admire Mark and Drew and even call them my best lovers of all. They tell the people, "Love is sweeter the second time around." A wound that was never healed shows again, my body is filled with stains from the pains of the past and the present.

Yet people who love me continue to fight to fight for me. Doing everything that they can to stop things from happening again. Slowly fixing my wound and never letting it open again. You would see them on the streets shouting, or on the internet rambling. They would always ask me, “What is happening to you?”

Thousands of questions, hundreds of voices, and all those addressed for one only.

“Didn’t you learn from the past?”
“Do you want the worst for yourself?”
“Do you want your place to be filled with blood and violence?”
“You just never learn.”

They reached for me.
they shouted my name.
I was called Philippines,
*by the way.

“Will the damage be worth it?”* A question that I am afraid to ask, for I am terrified for the answer.

The beautiful catastrophe began one night when you took my hand and asked for a dance, I never thought it would meant something to me but I didn't expect to see the entire galaxy in your eyes that time and how your smile sent shivers to my spine.
After that I spent the next following days telling myself that everything that happened was nothing and should be forgotten. Stop it, I said to myself, you will only ruin everything.
Do you really want to let your guard down, do you really want to crush the walls you've built for a long time just because of one boy?
He's just a boy, I said to myself. Keep in your mind, he is just a boy.
But you aren't just a ******* boy.
You are fire, the fire that melted my ice cold heart.
We were both scared that time, scared of the outcome of the things we are about to do, scared of the things that are bound to happen, scared of destroying everything.
But instead, we took the risk, the two of us.
We overcame our fear of heights by falling together and when I asked you what if we die you told me it was worth it.
That was the moment I knew that home wasn't a place, but home was the feeling you gave me when our fingers intertwined. Home was the happiness I felt when you held me in your arms, home was the satisfaction you gave me every time you uttered the words “I love you,” to my ears. Do you remember the days you gave me roses and told me I was as beautiful as them, I was delighted with the thought that you compared me to one of the prettiest flowers in the world.
And do you remember what you told me, that our love was like the sun and the moon, for they are there for each other when everything is bright and shining, and when everything is surrounded with darkness.
But our love, was something else. Something else that even the skies couldn’t tell how powerful it is, that even the ocean wouldn’t know how deep it is. “We loved with a love that was more than love.” Is this the time that I will finally know the meaning behind Edgar Allan Poe’s line?

However, the moment we've been hoping to never happen, happened.
Here comes the downfall.

The downfall that was the cause of the pain that we couldn't describe, the downfall that made us forget the happiest days of our lives and made us remember the worst, the downfall that led us to realization.
The realization that maybe we are really the sun and the moon, and no, not because of the reason you gave. But because of no matter how deep our love for each other is and how many sacrifices we did, we will never be together.
You told me I was as beautiful as the roses you gave me, but did it ever cross your mind that i have parts of me that could sting you, parts of me that could cut you and break you to pieces and the only mark that will serve as my memory is the redness of your own blood like the petals of the roses, my love, didn't you know that roses have thorns?
And I never told you, that I screamed the words “I love you” too loud for you to know, but I whispered the words “and it's killing me” too soft for you to never discover.
If I considered your hands to be the bed of the room that relaxes me, your arms to be the roof of the house that protects it from destruction, if I considered you to be my home, does that mean right now I am homeless?
Maybe we shouldn’t have overcame it, maybe we should’ve let our fears just be fears.
And perhaps dying wasn't really worth it when you murdered me with the act of walking away and you didn't even bother to look at the crime scene you've made. How funny of me, to think you are more than just a boy, when in fact, you are just another boy who let my guard down, destroyed my walls, and the reason why I would build them once again.
It's true that I saw galaxies in your eyes and your smile sent shivers to my spine but how come I didn't know that those galaxies and shivers would only just ruin everything? Why was I finding my other half when I am already a whole? Why did I let you in when you did nothing but destroy me?
I started to think and told myself that I would do everything just to go back to that night and what I will do is I wouldn't take your hand and agree to that dance.

“The damage was never worth it.” And in the end, I was the one who answered my own question.

It all happened the night I sat on an empty seat on the train. My body was tired, I feel like my eyes would shut down in any minute, I couldn't even say something because my mouth was probably exhausted too (of speaking too much, probably), but one thing is for sure, my mind will never be worn out. My mind will never stop. Funny, I thought, when you are happy and contented about everything in your life, or when your whole self is already numb and can't feel anything whilst without any caution your mind will explode with thoughts and ideas that could either save or destroy you. But my mind isn't exploding at the moment, my mind isn't experiencing any chaos and war inside of it, there was only one thing my mind was telling me, that I just want to be left alone tonight. Maybe that's why I sat on an empty seat on the train.

I wasn't left alone the moment an old woman sat beside me. I was ******, beyond ******, I'm having one of the worst days in my life and all I want right now is to be alone in this world and then one person would sit beside me.

“Tough day, huh?” She asked me. I just smiled and nodded at her, I was too tired to say something, but I wasn't tired to realize how bad I acted. I started feeling guilty of the things rattling around my head.

“It's just a bad day, sweetheart. Not a bad life.” This woman is obviously trying to start a conversation, I hesitated to talk to her at first, but then maybe my mouth would be less tired when I decide to speak again.

“I'm sorry, I'm just, tired.. Tired of everything, I guess.”

“I understand, sweetie. Wait, I know, why don't we just play a game? 20 questions?” Wow, 7 minutes ago I was just asking to be all by myself and now I'm about to play a game with a stranger. Even worse, she will know 20 facts about me.

“Uhm, okay, I guess.”

“Okay, me first. The most cliché question of them all, what's your favourite color?”

“Blue.”

“Ahh, let's proceed to the next one.” And the next ones became even more predictable. Favourite movie, book, food. I felt irritated but at the same time, relieved. She wouldn't know 20 facts about me, I could always lie. However, epiphany hit me when I forgot she has only been asking 19 questions, then the last question erased all my relief.

“And the last question I have before I leave, who is your favourite almost?”

“What? I don't understand.”

“Is it the boy you kissed one sunday night but after that he told you goodbye, and you didn't know he meant it, that's why you started wondering where's the good in that word? Or is it the boy who told you he loved you every single day and suddenly one day he decided not to talk to you ever again like those days never happened? Is it the boy who was the reason you lied when I asked you what was your favourite colour, it wasn't blue, wasn't it? It was the colour of his eyes. Or maybe, it's that someone who looked at you like you were the entire universe but the world decided that being inlove with a universe is a dangerous thing to do, that's why they did everything to part the ways of you two. Now tell me, dear, who is your favourite almost?”

And then suddenly I was awaken. I no longer felt tired, like my body can move again right now. And that my mind is exploding again, I even think it will burst. “I... I don't.. know.”

But who is it, really? It was hard deciding when somebody's lips were the reason why I felt alive sometime in the past, when the words of that somebody were at the same time my disease and my cure, my hurricane and my sunshine, my poison and my antidote. When somebody's eyes became my favourite colour of all time that's why whenever I see things that are green I feel like I'm still at home, and when somebody had the power to make me the universe when I'm just a human being, clearly a dangerous thing, but I would gladly experience the danger to be with that someone again.  

I was about to say something when the doors of the train opened and the woman suddenly stood up, she was about to leave, I guess. She smiled at me and walked away. But one last time, she turned around said these words to me:

“You almost knew, didn't you?”

And just like that, I was left alone on the empty seat on the train.