Make it stop

I awake to the mistakes that haunt me in my sleep. All the screwed-up do overs hold me hostage in bed as I clench the blankets close. I think, if I could suffocate myself in this darkness and never wake up, I’d thank the universe for the free pass.

I have never gotten a free pass on missing you. I had to savor the senseless ache of my of this cosmic joke that is me. I wish I could let you go. You are, after all, just a distant history. A vivid wish. A senseless longing for attention, an aching desperation for touch.

I have known all too well this kind of pain. The type that aches slowly, rises and falls, hits you again just when you think it’s gone.

I stop and look back, was it worth it?

They call it flirting.. I call it expanding my social horizons

The usual mornings.

It has been one hell of a night. The stench of vomit and alcohol lingers on, street lights keep getting dimmer and dimmer. The night escapes away. I can see the sun now.

I am late.

I am light years away from looking presentable. Smudged eyeliner running down just above a slight bruise on my chin, a hickey, I think from god knows who.

I am on my way home, so early in the morning. I stride pass the busy students who have probably earned the bags under their eyes from the long night caressed under the weight of thousands worth of back-breaking books. I have had days when my muscles would give up from carrying these texts. I still carry them today.

I am late.

The morning just gets worse with drivers honking on, not giving a damn if they only miss me by the skin of my teeth. Everyone is too impatient, beating red lights- too focused on getting somewhere. Never pausing for the red light.

I hurry across the street.

An old man sleeps by the corner of a building, his bed only but scraps of boxes of plastics. His dog bathes in yesterday’s puddles beside the stach of yesterday’s food. Meat and bones decaying like them. It is too early for such misery.

I am late.

Finally, my room, at last. My books await me but no. I run straight to the comfort of my toilet, spewing away last night’s memories, flushing away the flashes in my mind- the strangers, the friends, the ones I lost, and the ones I found, the shots of liquor I drowned in, the memory of him, her, this fucked up world.

I am late.

No time to contemplate this life. And fuck, that’s just how it is. We run our busy days, we drink away our worries, and we start the day again. We redo mistakes. We keep falling and falling and falling. There is no such thing as too scarred, too hurt, too wounded. What’s the difference? It’s all so fast, I can’t tell.

But I am late.

I pass by the same people, this time the man bathes in the puddle, the dog is sound asleep in the unusual bed. This time a policeman stands in the middle of the pedestrian, I hurry. Life can only hold opportunities for such little time. I run.

The blue-chaired classroom is as it should be. Familiar faces, some friends from last night, another chance. The professor comes in, she smiles, he writes on the chalkboard, she greets us good morning, he yells at a random student, she gives a surprise quiz. No one is ready. But we push through. We bounce back. We forget.

We move forward, yes?

Lies behind the camera.

I dont get why people pay so much attention to commercials when all they secretly say is: 

You are ugly! Buy our make up

You are too fat! Buy whatever unhealthy pills we have

Love your own skin but look so much more better by buying our clothes. In short, your skin is ugly and you need our clothes to cover its ugliness.

Daniel Padilla is eating this junk food. Eat it and be closer to becoming like him.

Don’t get me wrong. I like trying out products and feeling good about myself. But sometimes these commercials are just fuckin annoying.

They put famous people on a pedestal and set this unachievable standard so that the common people will live in vulnerability trying alleviate their imperfections by buying all these products they endorse. 

To those who believe bullshit commercials, please  love yourself first so that you can delineate what makes you feel good from the stuff you buy to look/be like other people. 

Dear society, is that too much to ask?

 

I’m more than just a piece in their games

Remember the tiny voice that once said “I wanna be an architect!” or “I’m gonna be the best teacher ever.” 

Well that’s gone now. 

That sweet innocent voice is lost. 

Cuz all I hear now is:

Pass the exam. Don’t look back. Cheat. Take Flight.

Memorize everything down to the finest details. 

Just get a good grade

Kill or be killed…

I guess survival of the fittest exists in college. Cuz every minute I’m not reading and memorizing all those scientific terms, I feel like someone else gets above me- closer to the dreams of becoming a medical doctor. I feel like school isnt about learning anymore…its more like an arena. 

Grab a sword and stab the others. If you don’t, you die.

I dont like this. I dont like the reality that I have to push everyone else down the cliff just for me to get across.

I don’t want that. I’m not some piece anyone can just use. But I’m afraid adaptation is turning me into this inhumane being who will do anything just to avoid the chopping block and cheat her way through everything.

But I know Im so much more than that. I’m stronger.

Maybe instead of saying “pass the exam!” I’ll tell myself “learn and be happy.”

Instead of saying “memorize everything”, I’d go with “understand your passion. you chose it, so take your stand and fight.”

Instead of saying “just get a good grade”, I’ll just smile and say “I’ll be happy trying”

And instead of living by the motto “kill or be killed” maybe I’ll start singing to the words “just do your passion and success will chase you down.”

College is tough. But dear reader, I’m tougher. I’m more than just a piece in their games 😉

A story to break the heart

They said our mind operates in two ways when it comes to situations, its either we fight or take flight. But she couldnt choose.
The whole world seem to explode so slowly for dear Anabeth.
The moon played hide and seek with the clouds and the owls hooted the symphonies that haunted the living.
Nothing unusual really.
Nothing except for an empty bottle of tequila and a vial of undrunk poison on the bedside table.
So begins the game of life and death on the very bed where Anabeth lies awake- cold and shattered and breathing.
The mechanics were simple. Drink the poison and death wins. Or sleep for the night and life wins a little. But either way Anabeth loses.
As death gambles for life, Anabeth stares at the ceiling and the ceiling stares back. Slowly the ticking clock releases tension, creating this nostalgia of yesterday. It all came back to Anabeth…

Anabeth was only 5 when she saw the petrified body of her mother being lowered down to be forever buried.
No one knew this. No one knew why Anabeth cried by the lemon tree.

Anabeth never knew her father, and up until now she wonders if such a man even deserves to be called a father.. She lives with her aunt Lysa and comes home to his drunk and wasted uncle George who slept with a different woman every night. But Aunt Lysa loved him anyway.

And by chance, Anabeth thought maybe forgiveness was the answer. And maybe if she could just summon every fiber of her body to walk up to her father’s door, she would be a little happier. So she did try. Knocked once, twice….

And to her surprise, the door opened… with such slowness that it rose the suspense through the roof.
“Hello?” says the man who left her 16 years ago…the man who promised his life to her dead mother. The man who couldve saved her but didnt. The man that in every way was also her.
He was many things to Anabeth but when the sun set on that day…all he was then, is now the man who closed the door.
It hurt like hell.

So what’s left to fight for?
Live for love?
…when all she ever knew was rejection and pain?
Live for family?
….when she doesnt even have a real one?
Live for friends?
….you mean the ones who laughed at her and bullied her?
Live for herself?
…She was empty. Every beat of the heart and every breath of the lungs was a twisting dagger to her soul.
She had nothing.
She was broken…in every way a person can be broken. And nothing can ever fill the open fractures life has done to Anabeth. She ran out of fight. And flight was nowhere. There was no escape. So it happened.
It’s 5:58 a.m. and the winner is…

Sunny Vibes

If there is such thing as a summer wish then I wish I could go to the beach in a bikini without being judged and called a slut. Is that too much to ask?

I am perfect in my flaws. F*ck what society says!

You’re fat!

So I starved myself every night just to lose the extra pounds and fit into skinny-type jeans everyone was wearing.

You’re ugly!

So I straightened my hair and covered my face with all the make up I could afford by selling my books until no one would recognize who I was.

You’re too short!

So I overdosed on pills that promised to make me thin and tall.

You’re too dark!

So I sold more books and cleared a whole shelf of whitening lotion in the supermarket, applied them more than 3 times a day, sold more books and bought whitening soaps.

Please, I’ve changed. Please I fit in. I look just like everyone else- tall, white, skinny, and beautiful.

But my mind mind kept saying..

You’re still fat! You’re still ugly!

So I looked at myself in the mirror and it showed me a monster. The girl who cried because she wasn’t good enough is the now a pretty girl- pretty…not beautiful. Just a carbon copy of what people thinks she should be. The girl who locked herself up in her room because she was too embarrassed of herself is now finally thin- just thin…not sexy because she felt horrible and she was starving. The girl who was laughed at is now popular- only popular…but not loved because she ditched her old friends who accepted her just to fit in with the cool people.

I wiped my face, removed all the make-up and I washed my hair which was bathe in so many chemicals that it went dry. I smiled the smile of a girl who is no longer crying..who is no longer gonna skip dinner..who is no longer gonna listen to the monsters that lived in her head..who is finally good enough because she is the girl who is perfect…perfectly flawed with each freckle, mark and each curl in her bushy hair. And I will never try to change for anything else ever again because I realized I AM BEAUTIFUL. And all the girls should realize that too.