Write

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.”

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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.”

High Street adventures

Today, Dan and I went to BGC (Bonifacio Global City) and had a fun walkathon. We planned to visit several art galleries or have a food trip. We did both.

I waited for him in Starbucks Frontera for 1 and a half hour. Then we drove to BGC. After parking the car in Lane O, we began the walkathon.

Right after 7th Ave. is Bonifacio High Street, which is a collection of different stores. We looked around Typo, a store that sells things that make my heart flutter (notebooks, paper, journals, other artsy “hipster” stuff). Dan saw a leather laptop bag he likes so much.

We then walked to Serendra, where there are five adjacent art galleries. I challenged Dan to select an art work for every art gallery we enter, then write a poem, verse, or lyrics around it. Sadly we weren’t allowed to take photos of the art works, so I couldn’t show you what art works were chosen as writing prompts. But I will share the different poems I wrote here in later posts.

After visiting two art galleries, Dan took an awesome instax photo of me.

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Then we visited two more and skipped one art gallery (as the people inside appeared to be having a really serious meeting).

After the art galleries in Serendra, we went inside an art store named Art Bar to take shelter from the humidity of the day (I wish it would just rain already, I hate it when the air is so stuffy).

We planned on going to one more art gallery, Mo Space, so we walked to 5th Ave. but on the way we saw a hotdog food truck just after 11th Ave. Dan says his life wouldn’t be complete until he eats hotdog from a food truck so I let him. The food was surprisingly expensive, but it was good so I say it is worth the bucks.

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Look at that big kid happily ordering hotdogs.

We just sat there and ate our food, and I think this is more romantic than eating in a three-course-meal restaurant because (1) it is very spontaneous and relaxed, (2) it is less expensive, and (3) we don’t have to put our best foot forward and feel uncomfortable playing dress up and ordering food we couldn’t finish nor afford.

While eating we were debating whether to go to Tim Horton’s for coffee and write our respective pieces there, or find Mo Space first. We tried to waze Mo Space and it is somewhere in 5th Ave. We decided, Mo Space it is.

Sadly we didn’t reach that destination. But we did find our way to this mall, Cyber Center, and we discovered Hamleys toy store, apparently the best toy store in the world since 1760. We played like we weren’t young adults and there’s this cool toy, Snap It. Dan bought a toy so he can play it with his sister, one with a ball that you have to catch with a plate-looking thing with a velcro.

After playing around in the toy store, we decided to give up on finding Mo Space and just went to a “hipster”-looking bar beside a very familiar place to both of us.

There is a bar in P. Burgos st. that used to host World Extravaganza production for open mic nights for singer/songwriters looking for a safe space to hone their crafts. Sadly, that bar changed its branding and preferred to only host DJs instead, so WorldEx set out to find a new home base.

Anyway, beside that is this cool looking pub called Tap Station.

Let me show you why it looks so cool.

They have beer and other drinks on tap! And it looks, according to Dan, very industrial revolution era English pub. Something Ed Sheeran would drink in.

We both ordered a dark roast called “Black Bitch” which is a scottish craft beer I think, I am not so sure because among the things that aren’t in my jurisdiction of expertise are liquors, cars, and [music] gears.

The beer was very dark roasty. It left a bitter after taste in my mouth. But it was good too.

After drinking a pint of beer, we decided to call it a day and started walking back to Lane O.

It was a fun day.

“Convenience store” person

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Went out today with my “best friend” to have lunch and grab coffee and he bought me a sunflower that I have been bugging him for months now to buy for me. Today he fulfilled that promise but only after I told him there are sunflowers available in the supermarket today.

We’ve been “dating” for two years now with no official labels and it is as confusing as hell. I can’t help thinkin he’s ashamed of me that is why he wouldn’t tell his family nor his friends that he likes me.

I feel like a convenience store. It isn’t something you’ll be proud of saying you went there, but it is convenient for waiting and other things. You wouldn’t shout it out to the whole world, you wouldn’t post it in instagram, but you often go there when you are bored and have nothing better to do.

Lately I told him I don’t want to be his almost lover anymore and that we should just stay friends because I do not like the set up he thrives in. Under the pressure of losing his toy, he told his “friends” a.k.a. Band mates that we are “officially dating for some months now” but that was the extent he is willing to go public with me.

Before we parted ways a while ago, he asked me if I will be posting the photos I took on instagram and I asked him why. He asked me if it is okay not to post it because if his mom sees, she will start “bugging him again if we have a thing”. I said okay. Because what was I supposed to say? That it is not okay for me to be kept a secret? That I feel like him being “in a relationship with me” is bugging him? So I said yeah sure okay.

But it is not okay. At the end of the day nothing changed.

He successfully manipulated me into thinking that he will go public with me. But he had no plans to do so whatsoever.

And honestly, I don’t want to be a convenience store person anymore. I believe someone out there is willing to shout out to the world that they are in love with me. Who won’t be bugged but excited when his parents asks about me. Who will talk to his friends about me. Someone who is not ashamed to love me.

Apparently he isn’t that guy. I can’t help but think I am wasting time.

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Love, dearest Sherlock, really is a dangerous disadvantage.