Nanaginip ako kagabi. Kasama raw ulit kita. Pinili mo ulit ako kesa sa kanya.

Sa isang dula, ako yung bida. Ikaw naman sa isa pa. Magkaibang kwento na yung nagpapatakbo sa oras natin, pero iisang entablado. 

Dumating ka. Hindi ko inaasahn yun, pero hinila mo yung kamay ko, at sabi mo, 'Ikaw, ikaw na lang si Dorothy.' Kahit litong lito ako, paulit ulitkong tinatanong sayo, 'Ako? Hindi pwede. Magagalit yung bago mo,' tumayo pa rin ako, sumunod kung saan gusto mo kong ibalik sa mundo mo. Wala kang pakealam sa kanya, parang dati lang. Sa panaginip ko, sa akin ulit umikot yung mundo mo.

Nagising ako, mga bandang alas singko. Hindi ko alam kung anong dapat kong maramdaman, pero pumikit ako ulit, hinugot sa pinakamalalayong sulok ng ala-ala ko lahat ng mga bagay na alam ko pa tungkol sayo. Alam kong ang hilig hilig mong mag computer, pero kahit minsan, hindi mo inubos yung oras mo dun kapalit ng para sa akin. Mahiyain ka, pero ikaw yung nagpumilit na ipaalam sa iba na iyo ako, na merong tayo. Noon, inis na inis ako sa mga ginagawa mo. Ngayon, yung mga pinakanakakainis yung pinaka-namimiss ko.

Ang tagal na nun. Ang dami nang nabago. Siguro, hindi na ako yung naaalala mo pag pumupunta ka sa Baguio. Ang dami ko nang hindi alam tungkol sayo, at aaminin ko, sa buong panahon na nawala ka sa buhay ko, napakahikli ng naubos ko sa paglimot sayo. Sorry, natakot kasi ako.

Ang dami ko kasing palpak nun eh. Ang daming mali sa buhay ko. Ikaw lang yung tama, pero pakiramdam ko, malapit ka na ring mawala. Kaya ako umayaw ng hindi nagpapaliwang kung ano ba talaga yung dahilan. Ayoko kasing ako yung maiwan... Makasarili, oo, pero yun yung totoo. Natakot ako na yung kaisa-isang tama sa buhay ko, makikita kung gaano kalaking pagkakamali pala yung mahalin ako. Pakiramdam ko kasi, hindi ako worthy. Hindi ko naman alam kung pano ipaliwanag sa paraang maiintindihan mo. Paano mo ba sasabihin sa taong ibinibigay lahat sayo na hindi ka na masaya, pero hindi mo alam kung bakit? Hindi ko gustong hanapin yung sarili ko, kasi kung yun yung dahilan ko, eto ako ngayon, pagkalipas ng maraming taon, hindi ko pa rin alam kung ano talaga yung gusto ko.

Yung kanta ko dati para sayo, ginagamit nang theme song ng isa sa mga pinakasikat na palabas ngayon. Minsan, napapangiti ako. Ang dami na kasing mga bagay na hindi na pwedeng ibalik sa dati. Alam ko naman yun. Pero pag naririnig ko yung kanta, parang nandun ulit ako, buong buo sa palad mo. Hindi ako nagsisisi o nanghihinayang na nagkaganito tayo. Alam ko naman, masaya ka na ngayon.

Sana lang, maging masaya na din ako. 

Consider this my apology for meeting you at a very young age, when  I was vulnerable and you were the quiet comfort I taught myself to crave. How long has it been? Six, seven years? Remember when I had a list of things I wanted, and you tried to make them all come true? I was writing a love story, and its rough draft, I still keep, with all its black ink splotches, torn paper where words were scratched out too hard.

I'm sorry for the way I did not cherish how tightly you held me to keep my pieces from falling apart all over again. I remember all those late nights you drove me home, a block away from my house because my mother didn't approve of you, and how, in our many walks together, we turned sharp corners to avoid your parents' passing car, because they didn't approve of me, either.

 Back then, I thought that was our biggest problem. Not being able to date who you wanted to date was such a big deal, and there were times, I admit, when it seemed like I would've been able to take a break up more than the pressure of always sneaking out, throwing my shoes down the ground, then landing softly on my feet so no one would hear me. One time, I sprained my ankle jumping down to see you.

I still have all the boxes you gave me. One full of candy, the other of small trinkets you collected throughout the days. You built those boxes yourself, you painted them purple, my favorite color at that time, and even now, at an age where I thought I'd at least be with someone (but I'm not), that's still the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

We used to fight about the smallest things, but it was one of those small things that brought us to the end. To be honest with you now, I don't even remember anymore why I wanted space, one you were so eager to give me, when there used to be a time when we both hated saying goodbye, and you promised one day we wouldn't have to, cause we'd be going home to a house of our own. Imagine my surprise when, after one fight too many, I said I was tired, and I guess you were, too. A few months ago, I went back to read our old messages, and for every one of mine, there were at least four coming from you, but now the tables have turned and I'm on the outside, looking in.

I wish I'd met you today under more optimistic circumstances. I wish I was the one waiting for you to come home, the one you'd sent flowers to just because you thought it would make me happy. It would have made me so happy. 

Consider this my apology for taking a part of you that you no longer can give to her; for giving you a part of me that you'll always want to give back, but will not, because you can't go back to our sepia toned past, always asking, always wondering what would have happened if we gave it another try.

This is my apology for leaving, but looking at you now, I have nothing to be sorry about. All your dreams came true, every single one of them. You were wrong about one thing, though. One tiny detail that used to mean the most to you: I'm not the one to have built it all with you.

I need a new hobby. 

I have reading, and writing, and all these TV shows I need to watch, but I feel like these days have been routine and I don't do well with routines.

I need something new to stir up some excitement in my life. I'm bad at art, I have too short an attention span for crafts and things that take time to finish. I need something challenging that sticks. I need something a lot more than sleeping late reading someone else's thoughts, waking up earlier than usual to meet up with people who won't give me the same courtesy.

I don't know why or how suddenly, I'm putting so much importance on myself, on my happiness. Could it be that I've grown so tired of waiting around for something big enough to hit me, that I'm taking initiative and being the one who wants to hit something, someone?

To hell with being liked only when I'm conforming to whatever society deems acceptable, good, and up to their ever changing standards.

I've been shedding off my insecurities one by one, and I like what I see now, I think. When I look in the mirror, I see me, not that version of me I dreaded every morning upon waking - someone who smiles to please everyone else, even though inside, I'm retching. To hell with everyone who only know me when they need something from me - you're as good as dead to me now.

Society, I've been told since I was small - I was either too fat or too thin. My family did not have enough money to buy a basket of fruits and vegetables for my teachers, and so I never really had a chance to be top of the class even when I deserved it. I was never given a fair chance because they were pressuring my family to enter me into a money / popularity contest, and my family actually believed the thing was trivial, superficial at best. I saw, at a very young age, what money could do, and the amount of respect society was willing to give you as soon as they see you rolling in some greens.

I was too opinionated, too hard headed, only because I didn't share some people's beliefs and I was not shy about voicing it out, but as soon as I tried being quiet, I was an outcast, I was someone who didn't know how to deal with my fellow humans.

To hell with you, society, for planting seeds of years of self doubt and insecurities that plagued my childhood and most of my early adult years. I have learned to zip my lips when someone would criticize me with destructive words just so I would not offend them; I don't do that anymore. If I could go back and talk to my seven year old self, I would tell her that no matter how hard she'd try, she'd never be good enough for you because you'd always have something else to look for. When she'd locked herself up to study, study, study, you'd need her to be pretty, too. I'd tell her to look people in the eyes and tell them how their words feel like a knife to her gut, but that in the end, those words say more about them than her. I'd tell her to look for the good in people, but never expect them to give her the same treatment, because people are quick to judge without understanding.

I have lived my life trying to shape myself up to your liking, and that's the biggest mistake I'll ever make. It all ends now, society, and if I had a pedestal and a microphone, this is what I'd tell you: I don't care if I'm not someone you want seeing around, or if I'm someone you'd want your children to be friends with. To hell with you and your unrealistic standards, I was born to break the mold.

On forgiving our misgivings...

Nobody ever thought to stop and tell me that you can miss a person so much, you feel their absence as much as their presence when they're sitting right beside you. Nobody gave me a guide book and said, here's a list of all the people you'll ever meet, of whom some will fuck you up so bad, you'll feel the knife twisting in your back even years later. Nobody said anything about crying yourself to sleep, or going through the motions. I didn't know it was possible to live for the sake of living until it was all I knew how to do.

The clock on my table says 12:29 AM, Monday. I have class tomorrow, we have a quiz, we still have to encode the results of our pre-test for our thesis. I have a lot to do, and yet, my mind has thoughts about nothing but the only person I realy wouldn't want to think about right now.

Do you know what it feels like when you trust someone with all of you, only to have them turn on you? And even though all along, you expected them to hurt you, because really, that's all you've ever known, their betrayal still comes as a surprise because you actually thought maybe, just maybe, this one time, the universe could afford to be kind. It sucks, right? It's one of the worst things in the world, and if you're going to be honest about it, you can't even be mad at them because you're already so mad at yourself for falling for their tricks twice.

Maybe I've been putting my faith in the hands of all the wrong people, or maybe he's looking for absolution in all the wrong places, but we have one thing in common. We've both left part of ourselves out, sitting under a cold trickle of constant criticisms and misgivings, and now we have no way of wriggling out of our hardened selves. It's hard to think that this is how it's going to be now, but I know no other way. I can't deal with anyone or anything else until I know how to forgive myself. It's about time I forgive myself.

Things that help me sleep at night

In five years, none of these things stressing me out today will matter. Your opinion of me will stop playing in mad loops in my head. I'll be far away, out of your reach; you'll probably still be stuck here, making someone else feel small so that you may feel good about yourself.

I'll finally have a chance to do something about my dreams. All my life, I've been told that education is important, and yes, it is important, but only because society gives such a big damn about formal teaching and classroom instructions. If you ask me, my answer will always be constant. Getting all the answers right on my exam doesn't make me feel smart or that I've actually learned something from my subjects - it only means, for me, that I'm good in memorizing things. Give me the same exam two weeks later without prior notice and I'll surely get less than 50% of the answers correct. My point is that I love school, and I like learning from it, but I understand why and how it can't be like that for everyone.

I'm feeling so down lately, and it's hard for me to be happy for anyone else when I can't even be happy about myself, but it relieves me to know that these things pass, sometimes faster than I expect. It helps that in my mind, I've planted a thought that believes I can do anything once I put my mind to it, and so far, it's true. It's all so true.

I have a lot of things going on in my mind right now, but I've come this far, and I have a long way to go yet. No matter what it feels like, I know it's not the end. And that alone gives me enough strength to look forward to tomorrow, not necessarily positively, but it's at least a step I'm willing to take.

Last night, my friend shared a post on Facebook from a confessions page, wherein someone wrote an open letter to his soon to be ex girlfriend. Intrigued, I read the whole thing, and found out that the guy is dying from cancer, so he was breaking up with his girlfriend to set her free, to make it hurt less once it's time for him to go completely. Because the theme and mood of it hit too close to home, I pressed the share button and let it stay on my timeline. I'm now quoting the whole thing after this line. 

An Open Letter to My Soon-to-be Ex-Girlfriend
Hi. I know it has been 3 weeks since I last talked to you, and I know, you still don't know what's going on. I know that you're an avid reader of this page, so I think this is the best place to explain. The title says it all, you're my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, because I'm breaking up with you on the 12th of October... that's tomorrow.
I put our word of endearment as my screen name so you'll know it's me.
The page might post this late, but at least I've prepared my explanation already before I start to cut the loose ends tomorrow.
First of all, I want you to know that I will not tell this to you in person not because of the grudges that I have. In fact, I have no hard feelings. It's just that... I don't wanna have a long discussion tomorrow. I want to keep tomorrow's talk concise.
Second, I want you to know that our 65-month relationship is something that I would treasure forever. You're my high school crush, and I still can't believe the moment that you said "yes". It was euphoric. It was the best day of my life.
Third, I want you to know that I will still look out of you as long as I could. So, no. You're not going to turn into a twerkin-like-Miley bitch that will be used by assholes waiting for you to spread your legs. No, it won't happen. Remember Luke? Remember what happened to him when he tried to abuse you on FB chat? Yep, my family will do the same to the guys that will try to do the same as Luke. hahaha
Fourth, I want you to know that it's not because we're not getting enough sex anymore. We've had those sexy times, and I know we're both getting busy. And it's not because of that. I'm not a dry land that needs water every now and then. It's fine. It's not because of that. I swear. So don't try to seduce me on Monday.
Fifth, I want you to know why am I going to do this... I want you to know it's for your own well-being. I know we've had so many plans for the future. Like that El Nido wedding that you want. The dream house that you want by the bay... The BMW... I know, those dreams are rather silly, but still attainable... before.
Sixth, I want you to know that those dreams are not going to happen anymore.
Seventh, I want you to know that I'm about to cut the chase now.
Eighth, I want you to know that the doctors recently diagnosed a stage 4 lung cancer. Not on my dad, neither on my mom nor my grandpa, but on me. They said that it's too late to treat, and the cancer has spread all over my body already.
Ninth, I want you to know that I'm going to die soon.
Tenth, I want you to know that I'm doing this so you can get used to live without my presence. I know it's going to be hard for both of us, but I know it's harder for you. You gotta endure it longer. I hope that I can live a bit longer so I can see you fully-moved on before I die. So once you hear the news, it's just nothing anymore.
Eleventh, I want you to know that I will always love you. I'm going to miss you.
Topak

(FEU Manila – 2013, IABF)

I read the post again tonight cause something has been gnawing at my mind all day. I knew there was something wrong with this post, and it was only earlier this evening when I was on my way home that I realized: what an asshole.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not heartless. Like I said, the reason I shared the post in the first place was because it hit close to home. But I find it quite confusing that this guy would post something like this on social media for everyone, including his soon to be ex-girlfriend, to see, when he should be talking to her in private. I admit I'm not much into dating right now, but if anyone would ask me, I wouldn't want to find out something like this in the way he chose for her to. If you look in the comments section, you'll find that most people are sympathetic and sad, because he's dying. I get it that he's dying. But that doesn't excuse him (in my eyes, in my opinion) from doing something this cruel to the girl he says he loves.

 He said he is doing this because when they finally meet up to talk, he doesn't want to explain himself to her anymore. I guess that means he wants a clean break. I get that, too. But on social media, really? You could have sent an email. Heck, you could have pulled a classic Joe Jonas and sent her a text instead, and don't say you couldn't have because you didn't want her to know right away. You freaking posted it on Facebook and made it clear that you used your term of endearment so she'd know it was you. You claim to love this girl, and yet you cancelled that out in the most basic way.

She had a right to know what was going on. I admit I don't know anything about your relationship except for what has been posted, but anyone can tell you this: you could have pulled her to the side and talked to her. She should have been given the right to hear it from you, then to decide for herself if she wanted to stand by you or not.

But she was denied that chance.

I know he's dying, and everyone thinks it's sad. It is sad. And I know this post makes me sound callous for calling him out on it, but someone had to do it. It's so unfair that she has to find out through Facebook. Imagine going through your day, then seeing this on your timeline, and then realizing it was for you all along. How would that make you feel?

 Is it really so hard to have maybe half an hour with someone and discuss matters as important as this privately? If you really love that person, can't you at least give them that?

I've been reading a lot of books lately, and I realize now that most books of the young adult genre focus on suicide and depression, and most of them romanticize the idea, as if there's something beautiful to see in it.

I guess they have one purpose,  that is to get the message across that none of it is romantic or beautiful at all. It's serious, and when you're in it too deep, you actually end up getting buried, and very few are saved by the new boy at school, or the one you meet online that turns out to be a really amazing human being.

I know how hard it is to even want to pick yourself up after stumbling down so many times. It takes so much effort, and most times it doesn't seem worthy. I've been there, sad to say. I was so proud of myself for being so hauntingly beautifully sad without feeling the need to "catch the bus" as they apparently call it, but one day, I woke up to find that the part of me who had no reason to live has won. I've entertained the idea one too many times. There was as afternoon I was heading home that I almost got hit by a bus, and all I could think of was how exhilarating it was.

I'm so far from being the person I was three years ago. I'm so far from healing, from feeling okay again. It will take time. I'm not considering taking that path anymore, and maybe right now I'm in an easier place, but I still have a long way to go. I don't have anyone to talk to about this, and even if I do, I can't begin to imagine how hard it would be to open myself up, make myself vulnerable, lay my secrets bare before anyone. I don't even trust people these days. Anyone nice has an ulterior motive, and anyone who isn't just isn't worth my time. 

There are no words for how hard it is to fight this battle, to tell yourself to open your eyes each morning, to convince yourself not to listen to that dark voice in your head, telling you the easy way out. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, self harm, or suicidal thoughts, please, seek help and offer help. Know that there's someone who loves you, needs you, whose life is infinitesimally better just because you are in it. It's gonna take some time and a lot of strength, but as humans, the truth is, who do we have if not each other?

I'm gonna lay it bare tonight. I'll tell you of all the sadness, of all the effort it takes to get through every day.

I've been listening to Hello, I'm In Delaware by City and Colour a lot lately. I don't know how a person could feel so much yet be so hollow at the same time. I want to claw at my skin. I want to take myself apart, piece by piece, to find what I've been missing all this time, to see which part needs fixing.

There's someone I love, and I wish I could say it's all easy, it's all okay. But life is more complicated than that. There's someone I love, and yes, he loves me, but not enough, and not in the way I'm ready to offer myself to him, heart included. In this exact moment, he's fading. Not only from my life, but from the world.

Lately, I feel like a bystander in my own life. I've never liked any attention being focused on me, but now that I feel invisible, I'm craving for someone to look me in the eye even as I laugh, shake their head and say no, you're not okay. I don't buy your bullshit, and you're not okay. Maybe one of these days, I'll be brave enough to admit it, and that I haven't been okay for a while. Maybe I'll ask them out for coffee, and together, we can figure out why.

I used to feel so much bigger than this. I've always been able to tell myself that everything will fall in its rightful place in time, but right now, I'm finding it so hard to believe that. All I know is sadness, and I'm not even sad about it. I wish I was sad about it.

I don't know what I want, but I know I don't want this. I don't want to do that again. To wake up in the mornings knowing a part of me has been severed, like a limb torn, its absence echoed by the searing pain of what is left behind. I don't want to know what it's like to lose a friend all over again. I don't want my heart to die. I don't want whatever beginning is wrapped up in this looming ending, and frankly, I'd rather live everyday knowing I wasn't chosen than be here realizing there wasn't really much of a choice in the first place.

Please, help me help you.

We met on a sleepy Tuesday, in the afternoon, when dreams were tempting, but reality pulled our heads back from the clouds. In an old book shop, our fingers brushed, then recoiled from the naked spine of a hard-covered classic I'd probably never have the strength, will, or time to read. There was the old book smell lingering in the air. Bells and chimes hung by the door, giggling musically as they were tickled by the summer breeze.

The shelves were old and worn. There was dust in the air. Sun beams washed the small, breathing space in a golden glow, and the books themselves twinkled. This was how we met, and you became a permanent part of my everyday life.

You were there on all the bus rides I took to random places to fill the emptiness in my eyes. You knew what got to me: it was Death Cab for Cutie, it was Snow Patrol, it was Bon Iver. You were there to listen to the saddest songs; the inspiration to my darkest fantasies.

I remember you sitting by my side as I cried my heart out that day at my uncle's house, when it was lunch time and I had to put my plate down and run when my grandfather said I shouldn't eat too much, because I was fat. Even now, you know how much this still hurts. You know how I've never really been able to look at the mirror and like what I see since then.

It was you, not anyone or anything else, that knew of the strength I had to pull from nothing when my teachers pulled me aside and accused me of being pregnant, also because I was fat. Because unlike them or other women, I saw nothing wrong with not being skin and bones. You saw how my hands trembled; you heard my voice waver as I said no, I wasn't pregnant, and no, I wasn't offended. You knew what I was even without me saying it: I was hurt that even after explaining myself, I knew they didn't believe me. 

In mornings when it was hardest to drag myself out of bed, you held me down and said it was okay. It was okay to be stagnant sometimes. There was no rush. There was nothing more important than the galaxy that was dying inside me. You said, nurture it, nurture me, and I did.

You've grown to be such a big part of my life. I don't know how to live without you, and I'm not sure I'd ever want to. Even on that very first day, I knew, when you opened your arms and gave me a home, there was no escaping you.

And so when you said, Hello, my name is Sadness, I embraced you and answered, I've been waiting for you.

I crave for you constantly. When I said it was over, I believed it was, fully, wholeheartedly. I never planned on turning back.

But here I am anyway. Making the moon my temporary sun, maybe kinda hoping you'll change that.

Even though you're unavailable.

Even though I know she's there, and I'm pathetic, and at some point, wasn't this exactly what I wanted?

I knew, didn't I, so why is it that I'm not ready now?

This week, I've been asked so many times if I was okay, and I said I was, every single time.

I lied.

I've been lying to you for quite some time now. I'm not fine, I'm hurting. I'm hurting, but I feel no pain.

I wish I knew what I'm talking about. I've been missing my classes lately, by the way, a fact I'm not proud of, but it's happening. I can't sleep until it's light outside. I can't eat. I've stumbled down and I can't find the strength, nor frankly, the will, to get up.

I keep telling myself I'll get over this; you're still here. But that's exactly what I'm afraid of. It's already so dark now that you're still here, what would it be like when you go?

One more thing....Sometimes, it's so hard to be happy for you, but I do it anyway, because I love you. I've always loved you, and I know that you've always known. When you told me about your feelings for me, I must admit, I had my doubts. It had always been her for you, and four months later, you'd proven me right. I wish you hadn't, but as someone who got used to standing on the side, I watched you both bloom and grow for each other, with each other. That alone is enough for me to leave my flag on the ground and watch you, for the nth time, leap off into the sunset.

Unfortunately for me, that's not where it ends. I got myself into this really deep, dark pit that I can't get out of, no matter how hard I try. Waking up is a constant struggle. Falling asleep is a nightly battle. I've never felt more wounded and alone, more in need of help than I do now.

But you're okay, you're happy. You don't even know how much you've destroyed me. It's not enough that you broke me, you also have to take the pieces away so that I'll never be whole again. I want so much to tell you that it's not your fault, but how could that be, when I was perfectly fine an you, once again, hit me? What were you thinking? Why would you do that to me?

I don't expect to know the answers to these. I just want so much to push you into gaining back that strength, so you could live a full life. If you do that, I won't ask for anything more. You can go ahead and buy a plane ticket, get a diamond ring for her finger. At least then I'll know that you've won. At least then, I'll know that you tossed me aside for a valid reason.

I'm trying to find ways to kill this sadness before it gets strong enough to kill me.

Yesterday was not so bad. I went to the gym with my sister to blow off some steam. I want my heart to be strong. The other week, I was out drinking with my friends and my heart started palpitating just when it was starting to be fun. So drinking is out of the question. I figured, if I can't wash away my sadness with alcohol, then maybe I can sweat it out.

So I went to the gym with my sister. I was able to do 15 minutes on the exercise bike and some lifting (no wights yet, just the bar) before I felt the ground crumbling beneath my feet, the world spinning, me losing hold of where I was, who I was. I was soaked in my own sweat, and I've never felt better, but at the back of my mind, I knew I found another way to die if I ever felt like it.

Which leads me here. I can go to the gym, but I can't exert too much effort. My heart just can't take it, literally. I'll still go, though. I enjoyed it too much to quit.

Today was one of the good days, if good days mean staying in bed till noon and biking in the rain. I made one wrong turn and fell off the side of the road which gave me a gash on the left shin, but it was nothing serious. I feel so, so alone, even though I know I'm not.

It's sad to be surrounded by people you call friends, knowing none of them cares enough to really look at you, for one second, so they see that you're drowning. Maybe I look like I have my shit together, but I honestly don't. Each day that passes, it's harder for me to get out of bed and just live. It's so hard to make the conscious decision to be alive for one more day, but I'm too scared to take that one leap that will end all of this.

Maybe there's a reason for everything that's happening right now, or maybe not. It all depends on what you believe in, right? I don't even have that. I don't even have the strength to believe in anything anymore. I want to bleed, I want to feel something, anything, just to make sure that I'm still here, I'm still alive. 

For now, I know I am. For a reason, too, I know.

How did it all come to this? How did I end up being this person who barely sees the light of day?

Sometimes, I just feel like crying, and I can't even do that right. The other night, I got so drunk that I was on the brink of passing out, clutching on to my chest, holding on for dear life. The truth is, I don't know how to continue. I feel like I've reached the end of my journey, and now that I'm here, still awake, still breathing, still alive with no visible wounds, I'm confused. I'm so confused because I have no idea how to go on.

I keep asking myself: what do I do now? Where do I go? Am I the only one who feels this way? Like I don't need to be saved, I need to be hit by  a train. I need to get the wind knocked off me. I need to feel something other than this miserable existence.

I shouldn't be here. That's all I know. This is not a cry for help. It's so hard to wake up every morning, knowing you have no purpose. I'm so tired of hiding. I need to not be here. I need to be gone. I need this little burning flame in me to be blown out, so that darkness can finally consume me. I know with it comes the peace I crave so badly.

It's a cloudy Sunday afternoon. The sun is somewhere, hiding behind the ever mysterious gray sky. I sit in bed, going through bag after bag of various flavors of the same brand of potato chips, stuffing my face with junk, filling my head with music I've never heard before.

Somewhere in the realms of a city almost forgotten, they lay in bed in their fancy hotel room, exchanging stories, his arms snaked around her hour glass shaped waist. They all sport bed hair, as if they just woke up, and they probably just did. In my world, that is just unacceptable, but not in theirs. They can do whatever with whomever, whenever and wherever they want to. There are no boundaries to stop them.

What I want, right at this moment, is to forget how much I want to see him. To forget how he is now a few hundred miles away from me, when a week ago, there was an ocean and some countries separating us. What I want is to forget that he is with her, my very own replacement, reminding me of the song in my head that goes to the tune of I'm not good enough.

I could hop on a bus right now, wearing my heart on my sleeve. He'd probably tell me how long he's waited for me to say these words I've been trying to contain in the confines of my head, but I am afraid that he's even farther out of reach now that he's here. There were words we shouldn't have said that day we were both consumed with anger and frustration. I was full of jealousy, he was full of pride. We never did make it in any of our fights. Maybe, maybe there's a reason we aren't together now.

I've spent so much time pushing thoughts of him out of my mind. Some days, it's easy. I have other things to fill my time. But when I'm alone at night and sleep just wouldn't come, that's when the urge to call him is strongest. That's when I strain to hear his voice, crave the warmth of the comfort that tomorrow, everything will be okay between us. I'm done chasing, surely, I am. I'm done hoping. I'm just not done loving yet.

Ilang araw pa ba bago mo ko iwan?

Wala na kasing epekto sakin kung nandyan yung araw, o kung maulan. Hindi ko na napapansin yun, kasi wala na kong maramdaman.

Ilang araw pa bago mo ko iwan?

Kung pwede, pakibilisan. Hindi ako ang mundo para ikut-ikutan mo. Hindi ka rin hangin para manatili lagi sa paligid ko.

Pakiusap, iwan mo na ako.

Ayoko nang gumising na masaya lang sa loob ng limang minuto, pagkatapos, sira na ang araw dahil sa presensya mo. Ayoko nang matulog na ikaw yung huling iniisip ko; saan ba pwedeng magtago para di na tayo magtagpo? Masikip ang mundo para sa akin at sayo, kalungkutan ko.

Ilang araw pa ba bago ka umalis?

Yung kalendaryo ko, puno na ng ekis. Hindi ko alam kung hanggang kailan ko matitiis na mabuhay sa hinagpis.

Pakiusap, iwan mo na ako.

Tinanggap ko na na hindi ako perpekto. Isang maling desisyon, isang tiket papunta sayo. Gusto ko sanang bumalik sa pinanggalingan ko, yung mundong walang ikaw, yung araw na walang tayo. Pakiusap, iwan mo na ako.

Puno na rin kasi yung isip ko. Ayoko sanang maglaan ng puwang para sayo. Tulungan mo naman akong ulit-ulitin sa sarili ko na nangyari na ang mga nangyari, hindi na mahalaga kung dapat ba o hindi. Ang mahalaga, tapos na. Ang mahalaga, nandito pa rin ako, kahit nandyan ka.

Ang mahalaga, pinipilit kong maging masaya.

I am almost always asked how I manage to just shrug everything off like nothing is ever a big deal for me.

My answers change regularly, of course. One time, I said it was because there was nothing else I could do about it, so there'd be no sense in dwelling. Another time, I just said that was how it had always been for me.

What I always want to say, if I'm being perfectly honest, is that I don't know. Maybe I have a way with words, but I have a hard time explaining myself to people. I feel like it's going to sound really cold if I just say that I lack the ability to care enough.

Which is true, in a way.

I do get upset, even with the littlest things. I'm the most hot headed person I know. But usually, I just let things go. I have this quote in my mind at all times: Sometimes, you have to let things go, simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.

When someone or something means a lot to me, I find it hard to let them go. It's not easy when you invest emotions and feelings on things or people. Feelings, which, as a guarded person, you usually keep to yourself or simply ignore. But once in a while, a human being or a dream, or even a story inside a book can stir feelings in you that you will not be able to contain. And so you set these feelings free, because you've grown comfortable and you've familiarize yourself with the idea that this person, or thing, or story inside a book will always be there. When you've reached that level of comfort, there's no turning back. You don't think about the end, even though in the back of your mind, you know something this good can't last forever. You take that thought and file it in a locked drawer in the farthest corner of your soul, somewhere your fragile mortal memory can't reach.

And then, things fall apart.

Sometimes, you feel it slip away, like the sand you tried to cage in your palm on a family vacation at the beach when you were nine years old and didn't know better. Sometimes, it is an earthquake shattering your world to pieces when just a minute ago, you were picking flowers and humming along to Ingrid Michaelson. You've always known that the Earth has these fault lines that move every once in a while, but you didn't think the rules applied to you.

And then you find out that when they say these things happen, you don't have the convenience nor the right to think, not to me, they won't.

Maybe I'm overthinking this, or maybe I've had an earthquake in my life one too many times, but one day, I decided that I've shed enough tears for the things that didn't really mean much to me. I get hurt, still, all the time. A passing comment about my current weight gain equals one little stitch falling from my tattered self esteem. An accusation wrapped in two of the Earth's sweetest words from a friend: you've changed, can easily darken even the best of my days. 

So, in reality, things haven't changed much around here. I have all these silly little glitches everyday, and everyday, I face them. It's not that life got easier, believe me, it didn't. And I'm guessing it never will. It's just the way things are. What you can change, though, is your attitude towards all the negativity. I don't know when I've mastered this, but I just came to a time when I thought, okay, I'll give everything my best shot, and if it works out, then good, I'll have something to celebrate. If it doesn't, then I can let it go with the knowledge that there really isn't anything I could have done anymore.

I lose in competitions. I get bad scores in quizzes. I lose weight, people talk. I gain weight, people talk. I do what I can to please people, they talk behind my back. I do what I want for myself, they talk, still. They always will. So I stopped caring about what other people think. The first thing that matters when something happens is how I feel about it. I try to see if it makes me sad, or happy, or excited about life, and I go from there. There's nothing like the freedom I feel when I know I'm not living my life based on anyone else's standards. Through that, I feel like I can do anything. I know that I can do anything.

When I said I didn't want to see you, I didn't mean forever. But here we are today, separated by the wind and the stars and all the oceans combined, and there's no number on speed dial to fix whatever has been broken.

I want to tell you that I've spent the last four years looking for the piece of myself that has gone missing with you. Today, I might have finally found it, but I'm realizing how ugly that part might be. I have to tell you what the years have done to me, how much they've let the darkness consume me in my desperate attempts to find the light.

I did find the light. It was beautiful and blinding and rage inducing at the same time, and even now, I'm wondering how that could be. I find it curious to see that it is possible to live life without the core of your very being. Half of it you took six feet under with you, the other half I gave away to someone who hardly cares.

Let me tell you about the light. The light is a boy who had dark hair and brown eyes, and a life long death wish. He hops on roofs and rears of moving trains for fun. He rides his bike so fast, you can feel the wind cut your skin if he ever drives by you. He likes Chuck Taylors, I think he has every color, but his favorite is the navy blue one, even though you can't tell its original color anymore because he has worn it one too many times.

He was, for me, the sound of thunder rumbling far in the distance, but sounding so near, I jumped up my seat every time. He was the lightning that cracked my bright blue sky - showing up out of nowhere just when I thought it was a clear summer day, but oh, how I love the rain. 

I thought the light was like the sun - he was just as bright, but I was wrong to make him one. 

I couldn't tell you how dead I am inside even if I tried, but if you were here, you'd know. You were the sound my favorite book makes when I turned the page, absently, for I was always so engrossed in the story. You were the quiet sigh when the day has been challenging and I've finally found my comfort. 

I'm not saying I'm turning my back on the light, believe me, I tried. More than once. I'm just saying right now, I'm yearning for that comfort. To feel safe, for once. To let go of the anchor after years of sailing the sea. To get off the roller coaster, to catch my breath.

It's time to catch my breath, because right now, I don't have you, and the light is killing me.

SERIOUSLY? 😑

I get it. I get it that you love him and whatever is going on right now must be shredding you to pieces, but you could at least have the decency to not grind your friend while you're in the process of mending your wounds. I was there for you, day in and day out, every freaking time he left and closed the door in your face. I listened to everything you had to say when they fell on his deaf ears. So the least I ask of you is this: be my friend. Iget it, you love him. I'm not asking you to forget your feelings so you could save me. I'm not asking you to save me, even. All I'm asking is for you to be that friend for me who doesn't need to know whatever he said to me, who doesn't need to talk about him all the time, that friend who doesn't have to ask things that are absolutely between him and me when I say I don't want to talk about it. I just need you to listen, for once, listen even when I have nothing to say. I get it, you love him. And you think it's stupid that I don't even like him, because I'm pretty sure you'll give everything in the world just to be in my place right now, but for once, I need this to not be about you or how hurt you are. I need this to not be about you competing with me for his attention, because frankly, if I could hand it to you, I would. I did everything to help you. You needed my help to move on, I trash talked him with you. You need to find things out, I was your detective. You needed me to push him in your direction, I gave him one big shove. I did everything you needed and right now I don't even feel like you're my friend anymore, all because of this stupidity. You know what? He's all yours. I don't even care. It's so low to be like this over one guy, seriously, and I'm not gonna be that girl.