Grow, Little G

I can’t recall, not even once

Sparing you a favored glance

Like a lily embraced by the sun

You seemed to wither when it’s gone


But time stood still at least for you

Lost in years I never knew

Scarred, ill, you took life’s test

Surviving all, outlived the rest


Less affection warmed your days

Silent struggles you had to face

Yet a smile would shine in your eyes

A color kept by heaven’s skies


I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see

How  silent dawn had set you free

Now a lily grows where love never dies

In a color kept by heaven’s skies.






Why Share Your Day

I’ve had this blog for years now and I just realized I haven’t written much about myself (because I haven’t written much at all, actually). Yes, everything I wrote was out of my personal ideas and viewpoint but I never wrote about my life. I keep a diary for self-expression and I never saw the point of revealing yourself to the world. I mean, who cares what you’re wearing right now or who your favorite writer is, right?

Recently I’ve been visiting a celebrity’s blog often and I find it nice that she wrote much about herself and her experiences. Of course it’s interesting, because she’s popular and all, but beyond that, her posts long before she became famous quite had an effect on me. It feels somehow wonderful to see what life is in someone else’s perspective, like reading someone’s diary. Yes, we claim that we understand that all people have feelings, their own problems, preferences and whatnot, but we rarely actually try to see things from their perspective. I think reading about trivial things like how someone else’s day went, where she spent the afternoon or what music she listens to would make us feel – and not just mentally ‘understand’ – that life is so much bigger than we think. Life is not just about ‘me’, or ‘you’; it’s ‘us’. Cliche as it sounds, it’s true. Have you ever looked out your window and wondered how the world looked to that bearded man rushing across the street? What he’s thinking, where he’s going, what made him decide to wear black on such a sunkissed day? I don’t know about you, but I find a sense of fulfillment everytime I think of how the universe is made up of infinite connected stories of clueless characters. I hope someone else feels the same way; it would really be nice if we try to step out of our self spotlight and try to review the day in somebody else’s eyes. Because of your catharsis of being just one speck in this planet, you missed 7 billion other ways of seeing life today.

What I’m saying is that I’ll be starting to post personal stuff. I think it would be helpful for my introspection, being an introvert and all. I bet most of the things I’ll write are beyond the knowledge of even my closest friends! Anyway I encourage you to do the same. I would be fun!  You can go visit for journal prompts!

P.S The celebrity blog I was talking about is Such a brilliant and beautiful lady.




People leave for a reason.

Sometimes home has become a cage, love has reduced into an idea, or dreams have morphed into a time-washed promise of yesterday. The present becomes an enslaving chain of uncertainty and despair until only the unknown horizon gives the hope of something – anything – better. And so we dive in, trying to chase happiness that for all we know lies in that ‘somewhere else’.

Drapetomania (n) – the overwhelming urge to run away

I am a drapetomaniac, although it was only recently when I discovered the existence of such a word. Ever since I was a young child I always had these dreams where I do nothing else but run – away from monsters, strangers, and even family and friends. Sometimes I couldn’t tell why exactly I was running away. I just felt the need to. Growing up, I dreamt less and less frequently (or I couldn’t remember them upon waking up, at least) my fascination for the horizon remained. I would stare at it far ahead and wonder what it’s like to chase it, too just keep going straight and never looking back. I have a good home, a great family and friends but there is the overwhelming desire to go somewhere far and live a stranger’s life. I attribute this idea to my being an introvert. Or probably, I just like escaping from anything that threatens my peace of mind.

I could say I’m the type of tries to escape from her problems. I make impulsive decisions, and those who have witnessed my misadventures would probably say that I’m much of a quitter. I admit, recently I have been turning down opportunities and taking a step back from many things because of my rather complicated pessimistic mindset. Sometimes I get tired of understanding myself that all I want to do is curl up, stare at the blankness of space, and make an estimation of the number of stars that give dead light. But most of the time, I imagine myself going out into the streets and sneaking myself in a ship bound to the opposite continent. Then what do I do when I get there? I never thought of it, actually. It’s not the destination that I’m after; it’s the act of running away that stirs my euphoria.


I was never a fan of goodbyes. I say it a number of times, of course, when my friends and I part ways after school, when I end a call, when I just…leave a place, like everybody does. But when I think of it, I actually meant none of those goodbyes I’ve spoken out loud, because I knew there would always be a next ‘hello’. I grieved when my grandfathers died, but I don’t actually recall that I said goodbye, not because I didn’t want to but because it didn’t cross my mind at all.

When I was young, a good friend of mine left without an assurance of ever coming back. I didn’t cry nor feel even a bit of sadness. On the last day, our eyes just met for a mere millisecond. We didn’t talk. We didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t care. You may think we might not have been close friends at all, but I tell you, we’ve been friends for a really long time and shared many happy childhood memories. This kid was that one loyal friend you’d have once in a lifetime. A friend who stays by your side even though you choose to play with someone else. A friend who listens in awe to your nonsense stories. A friend who gives you stuff you never asked for. A friend who just wants to see you happy.  That time, I thought leaving was not a big deal. I thought it was just as easy as coming home from school. I didn’t have to be sad, I told myself. In my memory, I didn’t feel anything. But what I clearly remember is that I quietly cried in my room that night. I cried because I badly wanted to say goodbye.

My next distinct memory with goodbye was after high school graduation. My classmates and I stayed together overnight, and it was a happy memory. It seemed to last for a long time. When we parted ways, we said a simple ‘bye’, an unceremonious one. It was delivered in such a normal way, but when I said it, I knew I was going to remember it for the rest of my life.


The next goodbye I said was just a few days ago. It wasn’t goodbye to a person, but to a direction. I decided to leave the career path I have been building for a year. To put it simply, I was unhappy. It was a good course and I am very grateful I chose it as an initial course because it shaped the way I see the world. I feel more aware, more experienced. However, deep inside me was a voice trying to be heard amidst the noise of my troubled heartbeat. It was telling me that my place is somewhere else. Being the impulsive decision maker that I am, leaving was a burdensome process not only to myself but also to my parents. The consequences transcend even to this day. Of course, there is anxiety and doubt. I begin to question whether I made a foolish move. It’s hard to weigh career decisions for me, because I don’t have a definite dream. My desires change even before I could start paving the yellow brick road towards them. My desk was a mess of paperworks from last semester. I dreaded cleaning it up because I was afraid I’d feel regret. But just the other day, I found the courage to clean up. As I sealed the box that now houses those memories, I felt an unexpected happiness. My heart felt as if it has been freed from a cramped cage. A grocery box filled with papers and books became the recipient of my first happy goodbye.


So here I am at the doorway of that place called ‘somewhere else’. The present is still shadowed by uncertainty, but I learned that it is not always an enslaving chain. Uncertainty is more like a road. You may not see the destination, but you know it was built to lead somewhere. If you believe happiness is in the horizon, then you might as well accept the fact that for every two steps you take towards it, it draws farther, two steps away. Truth is, the horizon is just an illusion for the sky never meets the ground. Horizon and happiness only share one similarity: the letter ‘H’.

I don’t think I will ever stop wanting to run away, just as I wouldn’t start believing in goodbye. Maybe it’s because I don’t intend to say goodbye that running away sounds so easy. There is that joy in moving from one place to another, and goodbye is a bittersweet marker in an unmapped journey. It could either enslave or liberate a person; use it well.

As for myself, I still can’t say goodbye. And I guess this is my reason to leave.

Bye, Neverland: Thoughts on Becoming 18

 NOTE: This was written on November 2, 2015 and posted a day later.          


You could just guess the context in which I’m writing in. It’s Halloween, but what really spooks me is the fact that tomorrow’s the day I officially leave Neverland. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but turning 18 isn’t exactly exciting for me. I always thought age is just a number and that it wouldn’t matter anyway. I wouldn’t wake up tomorrow with a rainbow horn or wings or whatever special attribute that would make people congratulate me at first sight. Nothing’s going to change. But as I look up at the ticking clock above the doorway, I feel kind of anxious. A surge of thoughts boil up in my head, and I have no idea how to put it all out coherently.

I was planning to go out alone on my day though. I wanted to go downtown and take random directions and just get lost in the heart of the city. It doesn’t sound safe though, and the bipolar weather makes the idea less appealing. I guess I’ll be home all day, replying to text messages and facebook wall posts and hopefully, watching my favorite noontime show.

I just can’t believe I’m turning 18 in six hours. I’d be physically, socially, and legally a grown-up. I don’t like the sound of it. The years have gone by like a whirlwind, it seems like only yesterday when I first called up my imaginary phone pal named Jack. It’s so surreal that I was once that girl who stepped from her backyard into a make-believe world where monarch cats rule and a broken bridge hangs low by a magical river. It has been years since I last imagined myself there, but that doesn’t say I grew up.


I’m currently in a stressful phase of my life. I’m at a major turning point of my educational direction (and soon inevitably eventually the rest of my life) and I know my indecisiveness has been a total burden to my family. I only make major decisions a few times, yet I screw up most of them because of my perspective that is definitely the opposite of constant. My dad thinks I’m taking things for granted, that I’m not being serious with stuff this important. Not that he said it out loud, I just have enough common sense to read implications between the lines. In our family, we traditionally celebrate birthdays with simple exclusive dinners at home. I wish I could tell them how much I don’t want to celebrate tomorrow, regardless how simple. I want everyone to ignore the day in exchange for allowing me to enact my decision one more time.

I’ve always been irresponsible – I hate it, and probably a lot of people feel the same, well to my oblivion – and right now I am suffering its terrible consequences. I hope among the magic that age 18 brings is responsibility. I know I’d need it to survive adulthood, or at least, to pave a rather decent life for myself.


“I’m starting to understand that making people smile is a way of holding back tears.”

In my 18 years, I have been an introvert. As much as there is nothing wrong with it, I wish I could be that person who makes people smile their worries away. I think I’ve never been this sad before. These past months I’ve been feeling so lonely (I love being alone, but feeling lonely is a completely different story) and misunderstood. It’s one unfortunate thing about me: people don’t understand, and I can’t explain. Nobody understands how sad I am right now, not even my closest friend who I confide in. It’s basically because I fail – miserably – at expressing what I truly feel. My uttered words aren’t as coherent and convincing as the ones I write. Anyway my point here is that I feel so sad right now that I have the urge to make people happy. DO YOU GET IT? I still can’t examine deeply how I came up with it, but I’m starting to understand that making people smile is a way of holding back tears. If you can’t have happiness, give it to someone else. I don’t know how I’d do it though. I’m not exactly a cheery and friendly person. I always get stuck in awkward situations where the best I could do is smile like an idiot and wish Hades would surprise me with an instant trip to the Underworld. I don’t easily make friends because I don’t usually initiate – my approach to people is generally dependent on theirs.


I admit my faith in God is at its nadir right now. I believe in Him, that’s for forever, but I can’t find it in my emotional and mental state to trust Him wholeheartedly. I just experienced what is probably my greatest failure yet in my life, and I must admit it has blown me and severely damaged my ability to cope up with reality. It didn’t affect me much emotionally though. I have encountered too much emotional instability these past few months that I’ve grown numb. I’d like to think that God has a great reason for everything – every little thing, and I have seen it in someone else’s life. I try to just believe that it will all make sense, but then it would be a lot better if He directly speaks to me that I may know whether I am interpreting His signs right. When I turn 18, I wish my faith in Him will grow stronger and myself wiser that I may be able to see the greater reason behind all things.



I don’t know what else to say, I’m pretty much distracted as I write. I still glance at the window, hoping Peter Pan would show up and take me to Neverland where I’d be forever young and free of grown-up worries. I’m not ready to grow up, not yet. But then again, I think nobody’s ever ready to grow up. People just don’t know how they get there. I don’t recall the day when I officially stopped playing with dolls. I can’t even state the year of that one Sunday when I didn’t bother to scan through the newspaper for my favorite kids’ section. I can’t tell when I kept my beloved stuffed Minnie up a cabinet instead of hugging her to sleep. Soon I’d grow up to be an adult, and I wouldn’t notice it. But as far as calculation and numbers are involved, that phase should start tomorrow. Of course there would be no overnight evolution, and 18 would still be just a number – one that would probably invalidate my passport to Neverland.

But more importantly, I still don’t know who I am – what I want, who I specifically want to be. The world around seems to be running according to a plan where I have no place in. I drown in expectations, options, and endless nostalgia. Oftentimes I feel lost in a maze I wish no young minotaur would inherit. I call up Jack again after about ten years, believing that he’s my guardian angel. He doesn’t answer back, but just tonight, I think I hear him say that all I need is faith, trust, and Pixie dust.