Everything is meaningless


But there is such beauty in the world, they say.

I don’t know, man, everything is meaningless.

I hear your sentiments. I hear your pleas. I hear your explanations.

Try harder for yourself.

Get out of the house.

Go to school.

Push yourself.

There are people who care.

I know some meant those words. But the meaning don’t reach me. I want them to reach me. I wish I could get out of the darkness that is drowning me. Darkness so thick no light can pass through it. I wish the thoughts and sentiments can reach me.

But everything is meaningless.

Inside this womb of loneliness, I am aware that I do not have monopoly in pain and suffering, but I couldn’t put it past me to consider that. I know others are suffering more out there and finding reasons to push through, but in my darkness, I am a puppet whose strings have all broken. My spirit is broken and I no longer want to be part of this world.

There are people who love you. People who care. People who’ll be miserable facing a world without you.

I know. The same people who will be able to move on with their lives and maybe not forget about me, but find new meaningful relationships with others. They’ll be able to get over the grief. Their worlds will go on turning. With or without me.

But ny world has stopped spinning on its axis in this shell of emptiness. I am so spent that days and nights pass by equally with no purpose nor sense. Everyday is just another day of trying to keep existing because people said it will be worth it. But I have stopped living. Mainly because I no longer want to be alive.

All I see around me are empty promises and lies, brokenness and fear, inequality and shame, failure, failure, all of my failures have caught up to me, haunting me. I am a waste of space and resources. I have only brought burden and disappointment. I am never enough and never gonna make it. If I am already broken this early, how am I to survive in the next few years? In a world full of competition and heartless people and cruelty, how can a broken spirit live?

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger but I am already dead inside.

I don’t wanna fight anymore. And I don’t want to burden others with fighting for me.

Am I brave enough to say goodbye?


Today’s shenanigans

Today, I went to UST (University of Santo Tomas). I took my first step to actual survival, and decided to finally go see a psychiatrist. I have been having thoughts of suicide for more than a year now, and lately it has been getting worse to the point of tying me down in bed and actually pushing me so close to the edge. So I went to UST for a cheaper consultation fee. Unfortunately, there weren’t any doctors today. But there will be some available tomorrow so I will go back.

Dan went with me today. He has constantly been encouraging me and reminding me that there is more to expect in this life, and offered to come with me to see a psychiatrist.

So it was a fun day even tho my agenda wasn’t actually met yet. It was a novelty for us for one important reason: we commuted. On our way to UST, we kinda cheated by taking an Uber, but the banter we had made the traffic worth it. Even the Uber driver had fun with our weirdness. We passed by Dan’s old house which is now a commercial building, and I let him reminisce of the good ol’ days.

We went to Robinson’s Magnolia after going to UST. We walked, rode a tricycle to LRT Legarda Station, took the train. We ate and window shopped, shared stories and fooled around. We visited several stores and pretended to shop for furnitures and guitars.

After that we went to SM Centerpoint via jeep, to revisit a mall that has been a huge part of our separate high school lives. There we were supposed to buy Zagu and have a studio photo taken in Photoline but we didn’t find Zagu, and we felt awkward getting our “jeje” photos in the studio. Instead we left our faces on several devices in the Apple store there. So we walked around SM Centerpoint and decided to go up the cinema. There is a karaoke hub there were we sang weird songs for an hour. Afterwards we decided we should start heading home. But we stopped by this bookstore that sells cheap pre-loved books. We decided to buy a book each from the buy one take one shelf. It will be like a blind date for books. We judged the books by their titles and purchased them.

Then we went home via train again. There we talked about how our different worlds collide in that same train and I encouraged him to write a song about it.

When the train ride ended we parted ways. He told me he hasn’t been legitimately happy in a very long while. So have I. Tho I had some reservations like how he was texting her while we were having quality time.

It was an overall happy day. I hope I can cling to this happy feeling. I can already feel the cloud hanging over my head.

He left his watch with me. Told me “now you have my time.”

Hey stalker

When I found out about you and who you are, I didn’t hate you. Not really. It was not your fault my man is a cheater. I thought, you are the victim too. You probably had no clue that we were more than just friends. But I didn’t tell you a thing. What for? By the time I found out we were no longer together. You are a sad and troubled girl and I didn’t want to add to your baggage. I just hoped you would be happy. That you would make him happy.

But even before he knew you existed, I was already his friend. So imagine my shock when you blocked me on social media. I was worried. Did you find out? Is that why you blocked me? I guess it wasn’t. I found out you blocked me because you were just jealous and didn’t want to have to deal with me.

So why do I hate you now? Well first of all, I was in his life first. Who the hell are you to tell him never to see me again, or to not talk to me. Who do you think you are? I was his girl when you started flirting with him. You ruined us. Who are you to demand that I be taken out of the equation?

And yes, I am thankful for you being there. Thankful that you can give him gigs that could help him in his tough times. I am glad you could book him all the gigs I was planning to get him but didn’t have enough contacts yet at the moment. You are lucky you have friends in high places. But I built that man and his career from scratch. I did the hard work without any knowledge of what I should do, and just my love and passion for him. I learned how to communicate and find gigs for him. I learned the ropes of the industry for him. It was slow work, but I built from scratch. I hate that you just happen to have a full arsenal ready at your disposal. You are useful. I am glad and at the same time I hate you for that.

I hate the fact that I know he shares more random stuff with you now. It probably is my fault. When I found out about you I broke. I stopped being the functional human being that I was. I hate you because of that. I hate that you took that away from me. He once told me we were the most functional relationship he ever had, and now I lost that too.

I hate you. And I don’t. I hope you make him happy.


P.S. If you are reading this I want you to know that I want to stop hating you. And maybe someday we can get over this drama and know each other as people and not just faces. I don’t want to hate you. But right now I do. I know you probably do too.


It has been a daze lately. Everything is under a haze of that black cloud of doubt and self-hate. How I want it to end. I wanted to end myself.

I’ve been a very optimistic friend. I see the world in full color and I wish to spread that hope to everyone around me.

I was a fierce lover. The world is not black and white and I make sure that the hues of life can be appreciated by the love of my life.

Now everything is gray. Like smoke and fogged up mirror. I look at myself and see the shadow of who I used to be. A silhouette of the dreamer still lingers behind my eyes, but she’s buried in way too deep to retrieve.

The spark has died in the soul of that fiery brown-haired girl who believed in love. She’s broken and monochrome, swallowed in darkness, hatred and doubt.

Please save me. Paint me back to life. I don’t want to be forever a silver silhouette. I am alone and I hate the dark.


via Daily Prompt: Silhouette

Angel vs Demon

So now she’s your angel who helps you with your career and organizes shit for you. Things that I used to do.

And I am now the demon who wants to ruin all that for you isn’t it?

How the tides have turned. I wanted to help but you interpreted it as me compromising your project with her.

Do you see me that way? As the bitter girl who would tear you down just because she was the one who built things for you?

God fucking damn you and her to hell. I was trying to be generous and understanding. I can’t be those anymore.

I haven’t written in a while, and here is why…

I got busy with thesis. My boyfriend and I broke up in October. I got hired in a call center in November. I got more busy with thesis, 30 units of the second semester, and 9-hr shifts in the office. I found out I was cheated on  for the last six months of our relationship in December. We had an internal transfer in the office. I got busy with training and then nesting. I got sick a lot. I was stupid.

When my boyfriend amd I broke up, the crushing feeling in my soul kept me up for nights. So when the opportunity to apply to a call center arrived, I figured “Meh, why not earn money while I am nursing my broken heart. Either way I won’t be sleeping well at night.”

The first month of balancing my studies and work was easy. But when our wave found out that we are part of the percentage that is gonna be removed from the program when the client decided they don’t need as many agents, life started to become hard.

I was faced with yet another unstable aspect of my life: Will I still have a job tomorrow? It didn’t help that the available accounts for lateral transfer or redeployment were all in conflict with my studies. I was bummed. I lost the passion of working. I started to get sick a lot.

The good news is: I found a new account that would cater to my schedule at school. Bad news: it is not a fixed rest day. I had to face seven days a week of no rest. I am either going to school or going to work. Plus the thesis doesn’t help. Nor the special exams I had to take because on my week of prelim exams, we had a morning shift at training.

Ha. That fateful exam week. The week I found out I was betrayed by the man I loved unconditionally.

That fucked me up. Plus the fact that all of my 20 years’ worth of romantic insecurities came back to life and hit me like a fucking truck. And the knowledge that this “new girl” has actually been around for six months prior to pur break up. And that after I quit managing the band, she kind of took my place and she’s better at it than I was.

Lately I have been in a consistent downward spiral. I cut my hair short before the new year. Very cliche I know. But that didn’t help me reorient my life. All the superficial details I could use to trick myself this is a new chapter, I am moving on, didn’t work.

Now it is 5AM and I am on my nth stick of camels and I am just trying to fight off killing myself for five more hours. Just in time to get some help.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a psychology student. And I am all for advocating getting help and raising mental health awareness. But it is a struggle to fight with yourself when you know you just want it all to end. But I will fight.

Lately it just feels like I am spread too thin and everyone just demands something from me without even noticing that I am hanging by a thread to my sanity and frankly, my life. My thesis groupmates need more of my time, my ex needs my understanding that he is fucked up, his mom needs my money, my work needs my metrics, my school needs my presence, my body needs sleep. And I am at that point where I have nothing left to give.

And if I failed to give them what they ask, I either failed them, disappointed them, betrayed them, led them on, neglected them, etc.

I once went to a group meeting for thesis and had to sleep while they work because Inhave had zero hours of sleep for three days. I make sure that everytime I wake up I contribute something relevant to the paper, but they still made me feel like I am a criminal or something.

I got angry at my ex because he told me he loves me and he’s just playing with the new girl whom he cheated on me with, but when I told him I wanted to go to his gig and watch him play, he said I can’t because the girl would be there. And I told him he is replacing me and is putting that girl first and he had to accuse me of betraying him. For leaving him. That I don’t love him and that I don’t understand.

I have given my best at work but apparently the numbers don’t show it because my AHT is high, my retention scores didn’t pass the minimum passing, etc. I want to resign and frankly, I have this weird feeling that I am gonna be a failure in life. That I am only good inside the classroom but will suck at real life. And I just want to quit and die. But I need the money. To give to someone else.

I haven’t seen my friends and family in so long. I have no one to talk to who would listen without being sarcastic or condescending or without treating me like it is my fault for deciding to do all this in the first place. I wish I never existed.

How did you cope with pain?

Cope, by definition, dealing with something difficult effectively.

Pain is something, for me, harder to define.

What kind of pain are you asking me?

Was it the pain of a scraped knee? At first I would cry. I wasn’t used to the physical pain. I was afraid of having to wash it with alcohol or hydrogen peroxide because that stuff burns. Even iodine was scary. But eventually I got used to it. Repeatedly falling and scraping my knees, my elbows, my palms, became something sort of second nature. I trip so often and so easily. When I got used to the scratches and the wounds, I learned to clean them myself. I learned to enjoy the sting of alcohol. I learned to love the way iodine solution felt on the open skin.

Was it the pain from when I burned my hand when I accidentally poured boiling water over it? When I saw my skin rising, I punctured it. I was curious. I peeled the skin off the burned area and boy did it hurt. I didn’t know better back then. Thankfully my parents had the sense not to put toothpaste on it. I relied on them to take me to the ER. I relied on the doctors to put the proper ointments and wrap it up with gauze. When I didn’t know what to do, I welcomed help.

Was it the pain of when my friends and family all called me fat? It was an alien form of pain. One that ointments and alcohol couldn’t clean. One that I couldn’t cover with gauze or iodine solution. I learned at the age of 10 to trade one pain with a different form. I started eating less, then not at all. The pain of hunger felt to me like the sting of alcohol. It would cure the pain of humiliation from being fat, I thought.

Was it the pain of losing your first love? Or the pain of witnessing your parents break up? The pain of your mom leaving the house to live with her new boyfriend? The pain of seeing your dad get hinself drunk everyday? That was a different sort of pain too. A deeper kind. One that I can’t claw out of my chest, or carve out my skin. Although I tried. At this point I have learned to love the pain of the physical kind. It was an easier pain to navigate and deal with. I learned to self harm. And I learned to cut deeper and deeper. I almost cut deep enough. Sometimes I still wish I had. Often I am ashamed I even did it at all.

Was it the pain of being bullied? Because you were smart without even trying? Because you were kind and had the boys falling head over heels for you? When people started calling you a slut, a whore, a bitch, when you weren’t even trying to flirt, how do you deal with that? I think I just hid. I just folded in on myself wishing that if I stayed small and silent they will eventually not notice me and stop calling me names that I had no idea how I earned.

Was it the pain of losing a friend? I think I coped with that one by transfering schools. By shifting to a different course. I had no more place in the same vicinity that I shared with them. I felt like I shouldn’t breathe the same air they do.

Was it the pain of watching your father die? Of seeing the light leave his eyes when his heart beat its last? To feel him cold and stiff in your arms? I wanted to claw out the doctor’s eyes. To hurt someone, anyone. To scream. To open my chest and rip my heart out. The pain of grief is something I never coped with. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression… Acceptance. I think I got stuck on depression. It has been four years and I haven’t coped still.

Was it the pain of loving someone who treated you like you are vermin? Who told you that you are trash. That you are worth nothing. That one I got stuck on anger. Borderline hatred. The sound of his name still sends chills of boiling rage down my spine. Sometimes, when it is cold and the sheets won’t warm me enough, the anger does the trick. I know forgiveness is the key to freedom but I don’t think he deserves to be forgiven just yet. I would imagine his suffering. Never his death. No. I want him to suffer long and hard with no relief.

Was it the pain of waking up one day and realizing you are a failure? The anxiety of knowing you are running out of time? The thought that it is too late to pick yourself up? That paralyzing fear of the future? That one is a little easier. I could break my way through the walls of my doubts and their judging eyes, and make my own rules. Success to me is knowing I attended all my classes this week. Success is when I have submitted all my requirements in time for the deadline. And sometimes, when the fear is too great it wants to chain me in my bed, I deem it success to be able to get out of bed, do my laundry, take a bath, face the day, brave the traffic, go to school despite being late. I see it as success when I fail today and try again tomorrow.

Of all the different kinds of pain I have had to deal with, one thing is for certain. Everytime I had successfully faced on pain, I get stronger. My threshold gets higher. My tolerance as well. Pain is something necessary to build your character. As long as you let it build instead of destroy.

I think there is no specific way of coping with the pain. As long as you let it build you instead of destroy you, you have dealt with that difficulty successfully.


I have no wounds visible but I am bleeding. And with this blood I will write.

I will write my heartaches and sorrows away. I will write down the confusion, uncertainty and insecurity to navigate through it and make sense of it. I will write and write and write until I find an order to the thoughts running chaotic in my mind.

I used to write when I am very happy. Over-romanticizing the simple things, bubbling with joy and hope.

I would write in my fear. List down all the things that haunt me until my heart is still.

I would write when I am sad. I would turn my tears into ink and stories and poetry.

But there is nothing poetic to being empty.

So I would write and rant until I find where all my thoughts are hiding. I would write until I am full of words that do not rhyme just so I will not be empty.

I wrote a song for him yesterday. About how I have stopped waiting. About how I have given up. About how the butterflies in my stomach are all dead and turning into dust.

It was a song of wishful thinking. How I wished to rip my heart out so I would no longer feel it breaking. How I craved to be powerful enough to finally stop loving him. Of how I do not care about the silence between us when really, it has been driving me mad. When I am really powerless and helpless and how I really want him back.

I wrote of how I no longer care when every day I wake up waiting for his message and every night, I fall asleep with his name on my lips like a prayer. With tears unshed and words unsaid for far too long the letters are all a jumble in my head.

And still I will write to get them off my chest. Like half-digested meals of yesterday, I can not identify the feelings that I shed. Like old skin. Like baby teeth, said Sarah Kay. Parts of me I no longer need. And yet they hurt when I pulled them out of my heart, kicking and screaming and refusing.

Last night I slept with my ukulele beside me in bed. The notebook that held the lyrics lay open, fluttering in the wind. Maybe they crawled back to my chest in my drunken sleep. Because I woke up this morning with the same baby teeth. I woke up to the same feelings in between my cracked and broken ribs.

When I do not write, I run away. I try to push him at arm’s length. I wanted to show him I am not affected. But I am. I am. I am.

Because everyday, the same refrain plays inside my head. I want you. I need you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Why won’t you love me too?

Distance suits you well. You have found some playmate to flirt with I guess. And you can stop caring about me and my opinions in a snap. A trick I never learned. How to switch your feelings on and off like putting on a new mask. You can go for hours without hearing from me. Days without asking about me. You never really cared what goes on in my life but this is a new level of indifference.

And yet here I am, the stupid girl. Screaming inside my head “Please love me.”

Just Keep Swimming

This semester of A.Y. 2017-2018 has been rough for me. I experienced how to be spent emotionally, mentally, socially and financially for almost the whole semester and I thought I would never make it.

My phone fell and the screen cracked on the first day of the semester. My P.E. shoes broke and I couldn’t afford to buy a new one so I had to let go of my P.E. class. My laptop was broken as well so I had to borrow laptop from my friend, or sleepover their house so I can use their PC or laptop for my paperworks. I had to do my thesis on my phone with a cracked screen because hey, I need to get through this semester.

I was on the verge of a breakdown almost everyday, tired and worried and stressed out both due to academic and financial reasons.

Nothing in my life was stable. My friends were often busy, and I felt like I have become a nuissance because I had to borrow a laptop for paper works, or money if I ran out. My allowance would often come late because my mom’s salary would often be late. I was in a relationship where I have to pretend we are just friends in front of the people who matter. The thought of my mom losing her job was always hanging like a storm cloud over my head and I do not know what tomorrow will bring.

I would often have bad headaches due to lack of sleep and overthinking.

I wanted to give up.

It came to a point where I thought I was failing even when my scores are alright. I had more absences than I would have wanted because I am either sick, woke up late, got caught in traffic, or trying to catch up with the requirements from other subjects.

I would often be sad or cranky, or annoyingly very bubbly and I know that behind my hysterical laughter is a breakdown in the making.

It came to a point where I wanted something stable to hold on to, so I broke up with my “boyfriend” and asked him to be just friends. Something concrete and stable.

There were a lot of days I contemplated suicide. In between looking for possible part time jobs and considering stopping a year in school to help my mom with finances, I was contemplating just giving up. Walk in front of a truck or jump off a bridge or something.

I was spent body and soul and spirit I just wanted it all to stop.

I was drowning. But I kept on swimming.

And now I am one final written exam away from conquering this semester.

So just keep swimming.

Unanswered Questions

When you fell in love with him in 2015, what was it you were hoping for?

Were you hoping for a love everlasting? The kind to sweep you off your feet? A knight in shining armor come to save the damsel in distress from the dragon?

What if he was never a knight, and you were actually the dragon? What if, by forcing him into an armor, you become the dragon he slew?

When you told him you love him, what were you expecting?

Did you expect a fairy tale “Happy ever after” ending? Did you expect he would fall to his knees and confess his love for you too? What if you were only happy after the ending?

When he did tell you he loves you after beating into him the concept of loving you, did you expect him to bend the knee too? Did you imagine wedding bells ringing? Did a cute montage of everything the two of you did and could have done flash in your mind’s eye? Did you see it like the movies, with the rain falling for the two of you as you kissed? Did you not expect that the first kiss you will share was when you were both drunk on the last night of your teenage years? Did you not taste the smoke on his lips that foretold how your story would be ending?

When you found out the truth of who he is, what were you imagining? A boy broken from loving a girl who cheated on him, waiting to be fixed? Did you not expect that the cheated will become the cheater and that you would be cheated time and time again? Or did you see the ghost of a man he could one day be?

When he told you to be just friends, did you listen? When he said he was poison and that he didn’t believe in love anymore, did you believe him?

You wanted so much for things to end up the way you imagined, you closed your eyes to the truth he was telling you from the beginning.

That he was not capable of loving you. You picked the poison and happily drank from the cup of your downfall, hoping that taking the risk would make you fly.

When he liked someone else, weren’t you looking? Didn’t you get a glimpse of how willing he could be to love someone that wasn’t you? He knows how you feel for him and he called you his friend and told you all about how perfect night their night had been.

When you were forced to bear witness to how he put his arms on her shoulder while he sat in front of you and all his friends, where were you looking?

In his eyes, wondering if you would catch the truth that he would rather it was you? What were you hoping for?

When you walked away,  and he came calling after you, saying he will leave the girl because he chose you as a friend, did you expect something more?

When you started going out on dates often, did it melt your heart? Did you let the Trojan horse through your walls? Did you learn nothing from the history books? Did you not see how this will end in your death, betrayal and destruction when the night is dead?

When he told you that you are more than just a friend, did you look in his eyes, trying to catch the lie while praying it was the truth?

When he started writing you songs, did you believe the lie?

Or were you hoping that if you kept at it long enough, it would someday be true?

When he started playing fire with other girls, wasn’t it you he burned? Didn’t the fire show you what your future holds? Did you love the warmth of him so much you failed to notice?

And when he promised to stop the game because he got bored, did you actually believe he did it for your sake?

And when nothing you say can make him commit to you and the love he swears, did you make excuses for him? Did you “understand” where he is coming from?

When he stopped listening or taking interest in anything you say, did you tell yourself he was just probably too hyped to tell his story? Did you not feel lonely, unloved, unappreciated and uncared for?

And when you asked what love did to him, did you like the answer? That he will choose to sing of his terrible past than sing of you? When she who gave him a terrible experience in love seemed more relevant to him than the stable love you provided, did you grieve? Did it hurt more than you expected? Did you weep?

When you told him how it hurt you and all he said was he had nothing to say in his defense, did it break your heart? Were you mad at him for not seeming to care about how you feel? Did he hear your heart shatter?

When you said goodbye to him last night and he didn’t say a thing, did it make you feel stupid? Did you hope he would be a “typical boyfriend” and kick and scream to fight for you? Did you hope for sweet words and pleas for you to stay?

Did you think he would stay up with you all night to convince you to stay?

And when he didn’t, and you woke up this morning tasting the ashes of the wreckage in your mouth, did you give up on him?

Of all these unanswered questions, this last one is the only one you can answer surely.

“Of course not. You probably never will.”