I’ve been living with this pain for more than two years now. It never left; it subsides but it’s still there whenever I need it. Rekindling the fire within my heart is reminding me both of how I was loved and how was the aftermath choked me inside. I can see you on people who I got attracted to. But the thing is, they are not you. I want to squeeze and mesh them all and keep ‘em in my pocket so they can be with me wherever I go. But I can’t do it. I tend to look for you in every person that I had a sparkling affection with.This is what I learned when we parted ways: a broken heart, looking for another one akin to its form, to fit its pieces doesn’t guarantee a perfect match. The shards are uneven. Chances are, you’re just gonna push each other away for you both feel like you are not worth it and you’ll never be good enough for anybody. That you can still taste the person who’s been haunting you, in his/her mouth. And that he/she’s not gonna fix the creases on your skin. That you’re incapable of loving. So better immerse yourself with the love you need; the one you need to rebuild yourself, the kind of love that can only be found on the facets of your body. Until someone comes whose heart is already healed. The one who will pacify the inching pain of your incompleteness. The one who’ll courageously fit the pieces, no matter how unfit they are.
How are you lovelies? Been pretty busy with work. Losing ounces of my social life. Good morning! Thank God it’s Friday! It’s been two weeks since I posted my last entry here. Hi!
Everything seems falling apart. I thought that after finishing college, and finally getting a job, I’d be emotionally stable. So I will worry just about how much I can give to my mom and how to suffice my tiny cravings. But things just keep getting blurrier on my sight. I have so much insecurities and issues with myself. I know what I want in my life but I just can’t picture how would I make them come true. I still have regrets and second-guessing in the choices I make and I sometimes despise myself for being fickle-minded. can still remember how other people degraded me and told me that I can’t do it. That I’ll never be good enough for anyone or anything. I remember how hard it is to hear insults and you should practice pretending not to hear those on a regular basis. And that’s the thing I’d never be used to. I get annoyed with people for shallow reasons. I have a hard time rekindling my faith because I felt like I’m losing my faith to humanity right now. I can’t even think as humane as I should be doing provided that I am a professional right now. As much as I want to tell my friends that I miss them, I don’t. Because I know that nothing would change and that they’re already happy with the set of friends that they have. I don’t need to be comforted because I can’t the sweetness of words anymore because all I want to do is a perfect place, time and a shoulder to cry on. All I can appreciate now is my family. I’m too tired writing and figuring what makes me sad. I’m too tired to sleep because loneliness seems to seep in every time I’m taking a break from my busy mundane life. I’m also too tired to wake up because I’m almost despondent. It feels like there’s almost no reason to live at all. I just had like a pinch of possibility in me. I just want to stand in between. I still don’t want to die. I want to be awake and do the things that make me happy. To be with even just one, who can really accept me for who I am. To muster the courage to stand on my own. To make myself choose to be happy.
I almost cried when I was at the office. These emotions seem unbearable anymore. It is hard to handle the sadness sitting in my heart while talking to other people and smiling at them. I’m faking it that it almost looks like a grimace. A person in our workplace noticed that I look like I’m carrying the weights of the world. While another asked me why I’m alone most of the time. I just smiled. That is what I always respond to other people ‘cause I’m tired of saying even a word to explain how I feel.The thing is I just can’t bear seeing people walking out the door. One simple departure makes me feel down and it always connects me to the very person who loved me the most (or shall I say, ‘the one who I loved the most’) and left me afterwards. I know that I already got over that person and that situation — but not with the feeling. Because it was the only time when I felt like I’m living at the peek of my life. That I can see things clearly from afar with a glimpse of light. That I feel home in someone else’s arms. I can’t be anymore accustomed to a new way of loving and being loved by other people. I can see my former’s lovers traits on different people. Sometimes, I just want to squeeze them so I could keep them in my palm. But they are not that person. And it makes me cringe that there are still times that it haunts me. That it makes me want to revisit the places and moments we’ve been to when all I do is to cry after seeing that there’s no room for us anymore. But I know that one day will come that I’ll be able to heal myself completely without needing any thought of the past, without regrets and bittersweet memories to harden what’s inside of me. I just need to soften myself in a way that I won’t melt too much. I just have to realize that I am the own remedy to this self-inflicted throe.
Hindi na makasulat pa ang pluma pagkat lumisan kana. Sapagkat sa paraang ang ngalan mo lamang ang isinisiginaw nito, hindi na ito matututo pang gumuhit ng mga bagay upang turuan ang puso na magmahal sa panibagong paraan; sinanay mo ito na tanging lenggwahe mo lamang ang nalalaman. Ayaw na nitong sugatan at ihain ang dugo para sa iyo. Said na ito sa tintang laan sa’yo lamang. Sa mga panahong gusto kong tintahan ang iyong labi upang ang tanging pangalan ko lamang ang iyong sasambitin, ay ang pagpasok ng tusong kalungkutan na kailanma’y di ka na magiging akin. Gusto kong pabilisin ang bawat oras at araw. Ayoko nang magpahinga dahil mas lalo akong napapagod sa multo ng iyong pag-ibig. Ikaw ang daluyong na hindi tumigil na tuksuhin itong mga paang ang alam lamang ay lumakad sa kung saan ka papunta. Hindi lingid sa aking kaalaman na pag nasa pusod at kabuuan mo na ako, ay hindi mo na aalalahanin pa. Ngunit ginawa ko pa rin dahil mahal ka. Kung papayagan man ng panahon ay gusto ko pa ring ang mga ala-alang ginawa at pinagsaluhan natin ay manatili pa rin — mga alalaang pilit kong hinihimay sa tuwing iniisip ka ay kasunod ang tanong sa sarili kung saan ba ako nagkamali. Maaaring walang kasagutan o maaaring ang mga bagay ay mas mabuti nang hindi hayag kung minsan. Makasarili mang isipin, gusto ko pa ring malaman na umiiyak ka dahil sa akin. Dahil kung sakali mang hindi talaga maari na magkasama tayo, masaya na akong naglalaan ka pa rin ng oras para isipin ako. Sa ngayon, sapat na sa akin ang ganoon.
You are made of infrastructures and intangible assets. And that is why your worth is immeasurable. I see busy streets in your eyes and even traffic signals are shuffling when you pass by — one day, you’ll gonna take not only this city by storm, but also yourself and you’ll finally love you for who you are wholly. You’ll never be afraid to bare your soul for the world to see that there are still many precious facets living under your sleeve, that you’ll be even surprised how they ripened in time when you dithered to be proud of them. One day you’ll realize that it is okay not receiving apology from someone in an instant because you still taste regrets in your mouth despite having no gaps between you teeth — because bitter-sweet memories will seep into places you thought were already closed; they are sly and ghastly. You are more than a detached string from the guitar. This is for the reason that a guitarist get callouses from playing a guitar; for him to remember the symphony he made the string hummed. Because the string will never forget the harmonies and tune they relished even if it got detached from the guitar. And in the same thing that a guitar will never be called its entirety without its parts. You are more than a vibrato because you sounded to me like celestial melody and the thought of you reverberate in times of despair and fosters me up. Your flawed voice makes ears to be lent at you. You have fluorescence and that illumines you. You are made of infrastructures ad intangible assets. You have a firm foundation and you are stronger than what you think you are. Just look harder. This is what you are made of.
there are still many facets
to uncover when I met you,
and I want to fill the gaps
in your chest to make you
feel home in your own body
i taught you how to respond
if someone woos you, when
i should’ve taught you how
to make connections with
your family to let you know
what love really means;
that love is first learnt at home
when you asked me how to
know if it’s already love, I gave
you signs to point out the efforts
I’ve been doing to build you up.
i should’ve taught you how
to love yourself first.
when you asked me how it
feels like to have a date,
i brought you to a restaurant
that i kept privy for the two of
us and served you a platter
of grandeur and luxury.
i should’ve slowed down and let
you make decisions for yourself
and try to be accustomed first
to what you were used to
before letting you do things
you’ve never done before
there were excess baggage and
superfluous things that should
have not been done. my efforts
has become out of frame all
along. maybe i taught you how
to love in awrong way; in the only
way i can picture us together, alone.
maybe i tried too hard.
— superfluous, abr
Your voice was the first note I ever learned when music taught me of love. The first eight things on your bucket list were the first octave I mastered reciting. And your voice was the first woodwind instrument I have harmonized with. There are times that you go sharp and I go flat but let’s try to stand in between; let’s be accustomed with the melody the keeps us in tune. But you see, even songs need rest too. And I find your beauty in the midst of the interludes after being in-pace with the dynamics of the storms that’s been whirling our hearts. We’ll weather them with the first keys we ever played. We’ll take the symphony we used to correct us when we’re pitchy. And honey, all the broken lines these lyrical poems are composed of, the interludes that give me a breath of freshness and all of the rifts and runs we incessantly practiced, conspire for a beautiful piece like you to be written. You are made for me.
You had me at your
3 am messages telling
that it is my countenance
you remember upon waking
up in the middle of the night,
that you want me next to
you that very moment.
You had me at tracing
my freckles with your
velvet fingers and told
me that it is the only
constellation you can fathom.
You left me in the tune
of your favorite Maroon 5
songs and wanting you was
like Sunday Morning, waiting
for the petrichor to seep my
nostrils without even wanting
to have the first fall of rain
poured out in the month of May.
I told you that I won’t go
home without you.
My body became hollowed
and I still try to see the beauty
between the spaces that you
once filled; because I have
accustomed myself in the belief
that I am beautiful in your eyes.
I honed the gutter in my eyes
mustering midnight blues so I
can only allow certain drops
of tears to fall from it because
I can never let the same tears
I shed for you, pour again.
I made a sanctuary out of my mouth
as I treat the roof of my tongue the
canopy to bless the words residing
in my mouth so that I can only
speak of love and you will feel
retaliation through my benevolence.
I made my arms the pillar to
barricade myself by placing it
across my chest so that not even
the haunting of your returning love
after regretting that you let me go,
could have the chance to wreck me.
I am not the same apology anymore
waiting for your acceptance. I built
a fortress from what I am made of.
Thank you for being a temporary
home but I can live without you now.
- Making A Home Out Of Myself, abr
I was once a moist soil, drenched with enormous water, have swallowed healthy seeds and have been fed with all I need for my sustenance. And now, I am a barren land who has so much dirt and rotten things buried on my chest. I am drowning on my hollowed self. I want to drift apart from this body that is soaked with the remains of the harsh hurricanes, of the out-of-season harvests and of the abusive peasant that was once pleased with what I provided her. I am a wide barren figure who is waiting to be rejuvenated by the showering glee of the skies. By fate who has emptied the vessel of my existence. And if by chance a withered flower would be thrown on me, I’d be glad to bring her down my bosom and nourish her with all that I am. If by chance, we go through hazards of nature, I’d be glad dying with her and catch her with my bare breasts. For thou hast known what it felt like to be dumped. To be taken out from something which was once you’re rooting for. To be left hanging and to be inexhaustibly waiting for nothing.