Sunday, November 15, 2015

The World Doesn't Know How Kind You Are

You always shout at me to wake up
And you scold me for the stupidest things.
You always need money
And you never fail to mention how much your body hurts
You always tell me shut up
To not answer back even if you're being ridiculous.
It's so unreasonable sometimes
It's so annoying


I always love you
Not despite
Not because
I just do:

I just always love you.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015


You can't do it.
You owe it to the fandoms, to these idols and singers who brought you happiness when, for some reason, nothing else did.
You owe it to your dogs, these pure and noble creatures who gave you love so much more than you ever gave them.
You owe it to the friends you keep on encouraging, so at least they don't end up listening to the words of a hypocrite.
You owe it to the people at home, whom you never gave a chance to explain, and ended up disliking because of the involuntary love they cursed you with.
You owe it to her, the one who raised you and won't stop nagging you, all the while missing her real family who are more than a few hours away.
You can't die yet because one day you won't be a coward anymore, and you have to allow yourself to see that day.

Monday, October 26, 2015


I can't wait to grow up.

One day, I won't shrink away from responsibility anymore. It'll come naturally to me because I'll want to be responsible; because then I'll be an adult.
This sense of guilt over words said and unsaid will become unthinkable. Because I'll be able to let go easily. Because then, the past will only be something to learn from, not something to hold onto.
A forced smile will only show up in cameras. My smile will still be awkward, but blooming in candid shots.
I'll surround myself with friends I am not scared to offend. They'll be the exact same ones I have today. But this time, I won't hold myself back anymore. I'll say anything and everything, then apologize and laugh later.
A time will come when I won't be scared of criticism. I won't interpret every single comment to be negative anymore. I'll be able to accept them as if they were for other people - opinions that could be wrong, or matters of fact not meant to offend at all.
I will not take offense in the word "strong" anymore, because then, they won't be misinterpreting me. I will grow and become strong, just like the people I admire.
I won't hold myself inferior to the ones I love. This thought that because they are such good people, so I can't possibly be the same way - one day, this will disappear.
I'll be able to see that my unexplainable sense of unworthiness is truly absurd, because it doesn't even fall in line with my personal belief that everyone is worthy of good things. Why should I be exempt from that?
I will be mature. And I won't hold it against myself that I wasn't - that today, I am not.
One day I won't hate myself anymore, because despite everything I say out loud to convince myself otherwise, I can't love myself the way I love others.

Please, let me grow up soon.

Monday, October 19, 2015

Always different to everyone

Sometimes I wish I could be the same me to me to someone.


How authentic is today's happiness
When tomorrow it'll all inevitably disappear?

An Hour of What

Three o'clock is the hour of the devil
Five o'clock is the hour of the light
But Here I am at four am
Lost in the abyss of the in-between,
         of nothingness, of the undefined.

What is it
In the early morning of the night
That wakes me
And drives me mad?
What is it
In the pain of the just woken
That numbs me
And makes me sad?

What is it
That when it ends
Leaves me forgetful
And lulls me back to sleep,
To dream
To wish
For a reality
That won't be there
In the woken eyes
Of this body -
Trapped in between
Who are

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Best Friend

"I'm sorry I'm weird," that's what she told me. She texted me just a few minutes before she hurt herself, before she was admitted to the ICU and her parents took her away from me completely.

I didn't respond. That night I was watching this new episode of that week's favorite show. Shallow, isn't it? I wanted to though, but I was scared again - of giving her advice on how not to be like me. I should have. I should've told her that it was true, she was definitely weird. She smiled in a way that was different from everybody else. She watched these TV shows that didn't trend in twitter. She cried at comedies because she thought of all the laughter she didn't have in real life. She was smart, but she wasn't a geek. She was one of those who actively partook in statements against social issues. She was different, amazing, vibrant - all up until we became friends. I started to tease her about the little things. I guess it was all for fun at first, but thinking about it now, some things I said just because I was jealous. I was petty and a resentful - a typical teenager. That's about it though. That's the farthest I've ever gone. But sometimes you don't understand when it's too late. I also laughed at her when she told me she started getting these bouts of depression. Don't be silly, I said. It's just one of your "artsy moods". She bit her lower lip and stayed silent. I noticed that, but I didn't say anything. In my head, I thought that if I did, I would just be answering her call for attention. I wasn't about to take the bait. And then she slit her wrists.

Everyone in high school's weird, I should've told her. Everyone's always wary of everyone else. It's a culture of shaming. We shame anyone who's different - anyone who's worse off, and anyone who's better than us. We are all jealous, we are petty. But some people don't go through high school at all. Some people just go study, ignoring everyone in the classroom who attends high school. And those we definitely shame too. And we hate them for not caring. Most people graduate. Some not at all. And that's probably one of life's tragedies. Some don't graduate from being victims, from being bullies. Some don't graduate from being just "the popular girl", and some don't graduate from grades. High schoolers don't understand that these qualities they have in their teenage years are just the first few of those that'll start to define them. Some twist these imposing labels and define themselves with them, and they become nothing more, nothing less.

So now I'm begging you. Please graduate from being the victim. Don't let anyone step on you the way I did. Only then will I stop being a bully. Please disappear from my definition. And I'm definitely sorry I didn't fulfill mine to you.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Every Time

Have you ever been so scared
Of being happy?

Because of course happiness isn't finite
Save for those infinitely insatiable creatures - 
Plus one.
And of course fate isn't unkind
Save for those few tragic beings - 
Plus one.

But how could I explain to everyone else
That I always feel exempted
From possible happiness?

How do I explain
That when I see life,
I fear death?
And when I see laughter,
I feel like crying?
That when I hear heartbeat,
I see flat?
And when I feel the energy of everything,
I feel numb to my fingertips?

How do I explain
That my life feels like an inevitable tragedy
Because I do not feel entitled,
Or even deserving,
To smile
More than my lips can count?

Have you ever been so scared
Of being happy?


Friday, February 20, 2015

(Rant) People think

...that being finite beautifies life.
But no, endings and deaths
They're tragic.
Humans have this illusion of being selfless and giving and having the capability to be sated.
But none of those are true.
We are power-hungry creatures
And it's not a sin.
It's just the truth.
And in life the ultimate power
Is to conquer death
To never meet
Only in undeath.

We crave immortality
And life is beautiful
Not because it is finite
But because we unexpectedly
Taste a bit of this eternity
In the spontaneous beauties of the world
Of the surprising elegance of human souls.
Our moments of nothingness
Are transformed into little bits of clarity
Into tiny fractions
Of anything
And everything
At once.

*end rant*

Slip Away





Monday, February 16, 2015



Hand hovering on the handles.
Don't look down.

Step. Step. Step.

Look down.
Look down.
I'm gonna die.


Step. Step. Step.

Passing me by
No bumping


I survived.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015


And it would be the weirdest thing
That when the thunder comes along,
The cars start to honk,
The crowds cry and call,
Would he choose to whisper to me
Words of love and kisses


A slight touch
Ends of fingers meeting
The tilt in my body
The shift in your eyes
A hunger so angry
We were both blinded.

A blink.


"Don't smile."

But I do, inside.
And as the false maiden looks solemn
Such is my chaos.

Paint me in the colors of your perfection.


I draw the lines
And I cut up every vein
On my lifeless body
I search and search
In my heart
To the depths of my soul
And I open my all for you.

Where are you?

Sunday, February 8, 2015


I open the door, and I see you sleeping. I walk to you - slowly, silently. So you don't wake. Ah, your eyes are closed. So pretty, so peaceful. I hear a strange sound. You snore. I giggle. Oh, how I love you. I touch your cheek - the color of peaches. I lean forward, and kiss your forehead. "Goodnight, dear." I adjust your pillow in the perfect position. Then I leave the room and close the door.

But just before, I look at you. Still peaceful, still pretty. Don't blame me please. You told me to choose. And you're not it.

R and F

Is beautiful
Too much
And overvalued.

Is pretty
At least one
Is undervalued.


"Because your lips are too red.
Then I am too."

Monday, January 19, 2015

The Missing Premise of Love

I remember meeting you on a rainy summer day. I was running with my bag over my head. My mother had told me to bring an umbrella that day when I went out, but I didn't listen and instead I shook my head, laughed, and called the weatherman crazy. In my defense, he really was, and I remember the news of him getting fired over that. Weird, right? You know I always get these oddly accurate psychic stuff whenever it rains.

Which is why I should've known that it wasn't going to be a regular day, because nothing was ever ordinary again when I met you.

I wonder if that's why I fell for you - your laugh that would go on for ages and nobody knew why, your spontaneous urges to go out traveling and I had no choice but to come with, your singing voice that everyone could attest to was the voice of an angel. You were everything and so much more. I got sucked in and became a prisoner to your whims. But I was never tired, and at the time I thought I found the greatest happiness. Because when I was with you everything was good, even me.

I knew you, and you knew me.

And that was why I thought I loved you.