Have you ever been in a situation when everyone is doing something over and over again that it already becomes the norm, but something deep within you just makes doing that thing feels off? Yet almost everyone is doing it and they make it look like that it’s the right thing to do? Sometimes the difficulty is not doing the right thing but knowing what is the right thing. When face in this situation, ask yourself, “Does doing this thing pleases the world, or does it pleases God?”
I can’t remember his face anymore, nor how his voice sounds. I used to wish for this, to forget, to not remember, and now that I finally can’t, I do not know what to make of it, or what to feel. I’m not happy nor sad. I just feel lost. A little bit confused. Like I’m grasping the last piece of memories I have with him but I just couldn’t bring it forth to my mind, and no matter how hard I think of him, or how long I take a look at a picture of him, when I close my eyes, I just… can’t. I can’t remember his face anymore.
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #29
It’s easy to admire anything from up above, or when things aren’t within your reach, or when everything is far away, at a distant, especially when it is impossible. It’s easy to fall in love with things that we do not know, with people we cannot reach, with people out of our leagues. But look closely, always look closely, and ask yourself, will you still love her when you see the freckles on her cheeks, and the scars on her wrist? Will you still admire her when she wakes up crying and screaming at the middle of the night, with her dreams impossibly monstrous and cruel? Will you still like her when she stammers as she talks, when her confidence begins to fade, and doubts begin to cloud her eyes? Will you still love her then? Because really, it’s easier to fall in love with our imagination, of what seems to be, than when we are face with reality.
“Why do you write sad things?” is one of the hardest questions I’ve always been asked.
How could I answer that? How could I tell you that all I have is sadness, and all I can share to the world is sadness? How could I tell you that every time I get a little glimpse of happiness, I always just save it for myself, keeping it close to my heart, memorizing every details and feelings, and not writing it down because writing it down feels a lot like giving it away, like I am letting that little happiness go. How could I tell you that I write sad things to purge it out from my system? That it is impossible to write sad things without sadness consuming you to the core to the point that all you can do is to bleed it out on the paper. How could I tell you that? That I write sad things to let it out, hoping that one day it would never come back, that maybe one day, I will finally succeed in writing all my sadness away.
We are the girls who kiss wolves, who train foxes hoping we could tame their hearts, hoping we could train them not to leave us, we are the girls who kiss imperfections that cannot be salvage, hoping that our goodness is enough to shed light to darkest and dirtiest part of a human soul. We are the girls who played with fire, burn our tongues and lungs, hoping that the smoke of our ashes will serve as a sign that even when you turn into dust and ash, your cries and pleas will still rise up to the heavens, a ghost of a smoke rising above the forest, guiding the lost souls in the right direction. We are the girls who sing with the wind and dance to a rhythm no one else could hear, who let dangers swirl on our palm, seep on our veins, and swim on our bloodstreams.
We are the girls who wouldn’t kiss frogs hoping they would turn into a prince, because we are the girls who make changes to this upside down world.
Whenever I do things, I always want to do my best, and not just do my best, but to be the best. I’m ambitous, sometimes a little bit egocentric and narcissistic. I remember my kindergarten teacher describing me to my mom as the girl who always wanted to be the best, to be the first in everything, the one who dreams of being known and famous, that little terrible girl who has ambitions flowing through her veins. As I grew up, I learned that the world is hard, difficult, and not everything comes in a wave of a hand. That most of the times, you really have to work and fight for the things that you want, and sometimes, even if you did your best, your best would still not be enough. But the most important thing that I realized is that being famous or being known by everyone does not equate success. Those are just numbers. A sea of people I wouldn’t know firsthand even if it happens. I realized that I only wanted to be famous in the hearts of the people I love, to be known by the inspiration I give to their dreams, and to the strangers I unknowingly help along the way, and to be at least be a temporary relief in any way to the people who have aching pain in their souls.
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #28
If it’s true that we photograph the things that we are afraid to lose, then it’s saddening to think that maybe this generation, the so-called selfie generation, aren’t really just a bunch of narcissitic fools and attention seeking people, but rather a bunch of individuals afraid to lose themselves. Isn’t it disheartening? That in this age of technology and fast communication gateways, there are more and more individuals that capture their own photos to preserve and have memories of who they are.
Dear 2017 me,
You are still a blank slate, a collection of days not yet trodden, so let’s make it right this time. Learn to cherish each moments. Take time to breathe and look at the things around you. Appreciate. Appreciate. Appreciate. Be grateful. You are more now than you are 5 or 10 years ago. Heck, you are more than now than I am. So please please, don’t hurry in life. Keep your footsteps steady, you may find one day that you seem to be moving slowly, and that’s okay, as long as you keep moving forward. You may stumble and fall along the way, and that’s alright too, I have so much bruises and scars already on my knees and heart, and every time I still try to get back up again. Sometimes I had stayed too long on the ground, and I want to tell you that it’s alright too. Take your time this coming year please. Appreciate life. No rushing forward. Forward is forward. One step is still a step as long as you keep your eyes on your goal. Create goals. Choose happiness. Make happiness one of your goals. And I know you still have that inner compass in you, that inner knowing that makes you know which path to take. Listen to it. Always. It never fails.
And when things get hard and to much to bear, always look and ask the help from Above. Hell, seek Him even on the greatest moments of your life, or even on the most mundane periods of your life. Seek Him at all time. If there’s anything I have learned this year and that I will want you to remember, it is that we have a good good Father in Him. Remember where your help comes from. Pray. Whether you’re happy or not, because He always listens, every time.
And please, please know that I am here for you, your past selves, all of us, an accumulation and amalgam of years and experiences, a collection of moments and little joys and sadness, we’re here and we’re still here, making up who you are today, and who you will be this 2017.
And above all, be brave. I know you can do this. I believe in you.
Wishing you the best in life and love and everything else that your heart desires,
P.S. Keep your brains and heart connected at the same time. All the time. It’s hard, I know. But those two work wonders together, and not apart.
P.S.2. And really, I think 2015 and 2013 us had messed up more grand time! 😉
“Why are you settling with him? He isn’t good for you. He’s just using you.”
I sighed. “Who says I’m settling? It isn’t because I’m still seeing him means I’m settling. You think I’m the one in love in this situation? You think that just because a girl is hooking up with a guy means she’s settling? Can it be the other way around? I definitely don’t want to hear any wedding bells with him, if that’s what you mean. He’s not the type. So relax. Stop your stigma. I’m just having my cake, and eating it too.”
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #27
She is the kind of beauty that gently falls on your lips like snowflakes softly falling to the ground, silent, subtle, fragile to touch, but beautiful nonetheless. She is made of winter, thunderstorms, and scars, yet she possesses the gentlest touch for the broken souls. When you meet her, you probably won’t notice her right away, for hers is the beauty that whispers ever so subtly to your soul, capturing your heart and soul first before entrancing your eyes.
Why should I think of you when you never think of me? Why should I care about what you feel when you never care about what I feel? Why should I build my future around you when you never build yours around me? Really, why should I stay with you when you never ask me to, when you never give me a reason to?
Darling, it isn’t about the things you do that drives me away from you, it’s about the things you didn’t do.
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #26
I swear she tried, she tried to dry her tears, she tried to stop it from flowing to her cheeks, she tried to stop her tears from wetting the pages she writes on, she tried to write happy stories and to think happy thoughts and to anticipate a happy future that may or may not await her. Yet she still couldn’t help but cry each night. Can you hear her sobbing at night when the world is asleep and at peace? She writes the saddest stories, but even the saddest of the saddest stories she had written couldn’t compare to how her heart is breaking right now, in real life.
And I swear she tried her best to rewrite this story, her story, but her tears had already smudged her words, clouded her vision, ruined her hope.
Most people don’t know the struggles of not having anything to write when you need to write. You stare into the space, you lie down in your bed, then you stare blankly at your ceiling, maybe holding a notebook in one hand, and holding a pen on the other hand. But no thoughts are coming. Usually, this feels so peaceful, having no thoughts whatsoever. Finding your mind so blissfully at peace and quiet and clear. But then you have to write and your mind is still clear, and seems on indefinite leave. What then do you do? Do you dare to disturb this peace just to write? Or do you give up writing? When this happens to me, I still write. I write whatever comes to my mind. I let the ideas and words skip my peaceful mind and let it straightly flow down to my lips as I mouth each word, and down to my arms and fingertips as I type each letters and punctuation. Or I write about not being able to write, just like what I’m doing now. But don’t stop.
I remember the first time I saw an angel. It was night, and I was wishing on a falling star. Those were the times that my heart still beat the rhythm of myths and dragons, of fairies and fairytales, and of angels and fallen stars. My heart was still so young and naïve then that I would believe I could fly and grow wings out of my back if someone would tell me I could do so.
He kissed my tears away while my eyes were closed and as I wished upon a falling star.
“Be brave,” he whispered. His lips grazed lightly on my forehead, and I heard the first stirrings of my innocent heart.
I caught a glimpse of him before he completely vanished into the thin air.
He has beautiful auburn hair.
Coal black wings.
– – –
//old post again. Though I rewrite and correct most grammar errors I made in the past. 😁😅 Originally entitled, “Auburn hair.”
I think you will never know how much I want to take a picture of you when you’re not looking, to capture you in those moments when you’re just being yourself, caught up in some daily task, or thoughts and daydreams that I would never even know, times when you’re unaware, and unabashedly imperfect. I wish I have taken those photos of you so that when this day comes, I’ll have those photos to remind me of you, and remember that once upon a time, I had fallen in love with a boy who never even knew how much I loved him.
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #25