Monday, December 24, 2007

Feliz Navidad?

Another season of gift giving and traditional family gatherings. Adults and kids alike cheer to celebrate the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ. The warmth of the christmas tree brings happiness and joy to every houses as children sing their carols in exchange for sweet little favors from both willing and unwilling neighbors. Every year, christmas has been festive - buffet, exchange gifts and shindigs. Though this year is a cold one, still christmas reminds that it is not only a celebration for those loved-ones around, but for those loved-ones who passed away as well. Feliz Navidad!

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Not perfectly written and I love it!

I have a home and it is where I grew up in. It is where I studied my first education, met my first friends, and where I found and met my first love. My home is not something that I can constantly complain about. As a matter of fact, I think all its imperfections made it even more perfect. And, as I grow up and begin to see the bigger picture of what life really means, my aspirations and dreams grew with it as well. However, even though how much I adore my home, I figured that I wanted to be in another unfamiliar place and not just for me to be independent, but for me to adore and love my home even more - besides they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. That unfamiliar place became my second home and it simply amazes me how possible it was for a person to consider two homes in one lifetime. I travel - from one home to another. When the situation in my first home gets a little bit harder for me to bear, I immediately imagine myself going back to my second home, and when the situation in my second home becomes a little bit more intoxicating, I immediately rush myself back to my first home. Everybody tells me that I am strong and I believe that I am. But, right now I am thinking: was I just strong because I know I can run from one home to another? What if the time comes that I wouldn't be able to go back to my second home for a long time? Would I be that strong enough to bear and face my first home? I have never been uncertain in my entire life. I have always been proud of myself when it comes to handling problems for I never ran away from it. I mean, I am and was never the type who prefers alcohol over crying just to forget my problems and struggle even just for awhile. I am the type who hates pain, but loves to feel the every second of its throbbing until its gone or until I'm too tired and dehydrated to entertain it. However, with this backpacking from my one home to another, the thought scares me that maybe I was unconsciously running from all those problems all along. When I first knew about my father, I walked so fast even without destination - I didn't wallow in one corner nor cried. I am now in my first home and Man! I can't wait to go back to my second home. Before coming here, I had a plan. I planned to prepare for my brother's wedding the best way that I can, spend time with my friends as intimate as possible, be with my lover as often as we could, and to top it all, comfort and love my mom in the best possible way that can. But, everything just seems to fall out of place. I feel that no matter how much I try, I can never do the right thing in my first home while in my second home, I was the problem solver, the person whom everybody runs to. Everything I say or do always seem to cause trouble and when just when I feel so happy, my loneliness just keeps on knocking on my door that I do not have the strength nor the power to decline its entrance. When I'm extremely depressed and no one is there to talk to me - which rarely happens - I get even more depressed because I feel alone even though I am not. I am becoming more selfish as I already was. In reality, I am still that little-miss-bratty-daddy's girl who is head over heels dependent. I want to scream to my heart's content and break things until there is nothing much left to break anymore. I want to write until every letter and every punctuation marks are all used up. And most of all, I want to walk and walk hoping that I might find a third home (Oh God I'm planning of running - again). I wish somebody would just come up to me - I don't care whether its a longtime friend or a stranger - and shout to my face that I am the weakest person ever. Of course I would put an act that I am insulted and I would defend myself, but after all the commotion subsided, I would secretly thank that person for acknowledging the part that I was never allowed to play in this stage I call life. Don't get me wrong. I once had that person. I once had that hero, but as simple english implies, "had" is in the past tense form of a word.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007


I felt that you were standing behind me, so I turned around and true enough there you were staring back at me smiling and looking healthy. Looking so handsome in your green striped polo shirt, I felt so happy seeing you again after all these years. I shouted with excitement calling your name and I ran towards you and I hugged you really tight. As you walk towards the room, I held your hand with no plans of letting go. Still smiling, you told me that it was already time for you to go but I insisted that you see mom first and so we did. You told mom that she was very sweet and I was too, then when I asked you if you were happy, you kissed me on my forehead then on my lips and said that you've never been happier. After that sweet moment, again, you told me that you really have to go. I didn't let go of your hand yet - I asked you if we could go and see kuya John. We went outside and after Kuya John saw you, Kuya and I hugged real tight and after a very blissful moment, I caught myself catching my breathe and I woke up to the comfort of my bed, in the coldness of my room. As what I asked of you the night before, you showed yourself to me in my dream for the first time. Yesterday was the 40th day since you died and they say that after 40 days, it is when the soul finally leave the earth and goes home to the paradise with the heavenly Father. Thank you for that very memorable and sweet farewell daddy. I love you

Friday, October 19, 2007

Way back into love

It's amazing how love gets its way back into your life.

One minute you promise yourself that you're never gonna love as fast again, and the other second you find yourself smiling alone and thinking about that one extra-special person.

You breath real deep until the warmth of your breathe suddenly becomes the most comforting element at the moment, and you cling to your over used pillow imagining it was the hands of your lover.

You know you're scared, but you don't bother.

You know you're not exactly right, but you know you're not exactly wrong either.

Everything is a matter of stop or go, and with all the million choices in front of you,

you discreetly choose the one that involves him.

and how do you think you can still turn your back at that feeling?

you know. But you won't

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


I am not really good at math. As a matter of fact, I suck at it! But, I am very certain that it has exactly been 14 days, 336 hours, and 20160 minutes since my dad passed away - these moments have crossed infront of me, but today still feels like day 1.
The first few days were spent crying both with few special friends, and alone. I am not the type of a person who can easily share my problems with other people. Moreover, as much as possible, I do not allow myself to be seen in public crying, or even just sad; for these are very intimate and private moments of me and I prefer not giving everybody the consent to see them.
No matter how much I want to just stay idle, stare at blank spaces, and curl myself in one corner of my bed, I still struggle to at least regain the smile and the infectious laugh that my closest friends have always known me about.
Tita Carol Teves, mom of a girlfriend, said that when somebody you extremely love passes away, it is when you would feel and understand the real meaning of being heartbroken. And when somene says he/she is heartbroken coz of a break-up is NOTHING, compared to when your heart really gets broken.
Tita Carol's dad passed away ten years ago, and still, the pain and the lonliness is still fresh. To Tita Carol, that 10 years still seems like day 1 to her.
It has been harder for me talking about daddy these days compared to the first few days. Right now, I prefer talking straight to daddy in any way possible, which can pretty much get desperate sometimes.
The man that I am truly inlove with just passed away, and I am left with no choice but to stay in school and finish the remaining two months of the semester. Everyday, I have to fight the thoughts in my mind, and when i felt that I wasn't equipt enough with the optimism capabilities, I resorted to every means I think would be helpful, not even caring whether it is possible or not.
Somehow, it seems like I have very much practiced myself for an automatic mental block. When I start to think about daddy, I just shake my head or close my eyes and count 1 to 3 and before I knew it, I am already thinking about something else. Honestly, I do not know what exactly should I call this: Mental block? Compartmentalizing? Selective Amnesia? I really don't care for now.
Right now, my heart aches so bad that I feel a cardiac arrest would be coming any moment soon. And thinking about cardiac arrests, I question myself right away: "If I die today, would it be daddy that I would see first?" I wish.
I know its unhealthy and wrong, but all my emotions feel so supressed. I chose not to cry until I'm with mommy and kuya niƱo, not until october 13. I am very much overwhelmed with the love and support that my friends here in Dumaguete are giving me, but I just feel the safest to breakdown in our house, in my own little room, with my family.
Just yesterday, I went to National Bookstore and bought all these materials needed to make a scrapbook. I am not just so sure if this is a smart idea or not, but my scrapbook will be the only tangible way for me to communicate with my father.
People may see me smiling, laughing, wearing colorful shirts; and they might misjudge that as a lack of grief, but what people thinks is seriously not in my list right now. I know that no matter how much happy I may seem to be, my real friends, my family, and most especially my daddy knows that I am heartbroken.

Monday, September 17, 2007

i love you daddy

I was around seven years old then when I interrupted my dad in a meeting just to ask him for ten pesos. He told me to ask mom instead, but still, I insisted and I guessed dad finally ran out of patience that he shouted at me and reprimanded me to go inside the house. I ended up crying my heart out and feeling bad for not getting what I wanted.

I am now twenty-one years old, and I cannot remember any other instance where daddy raised a voice at me, I cannot remember any other instance where daddy didn’t give me the things he knew he could give, and most of all, I cannot remember any other instance where dad got extremely mad at me.

To me, daddy was everything. He was my provider, my hero, my savior, my friend, and most especially, daddy was my ideal man. I always believed that daddy was the strongest, and it wasn’t until he confessed he had cancer that I realized that daddy too was mortal.

For more than a year, daddy fought the cancer. He called me one night to tell me that the pain was just becoming too much to bear already, and that it’s about time for him to go to the hospital. It was the first time I heard my daddy’s voice sounded so weak, it was the first time I ever heard my dad complain about something, and the most frightening was, it was the first time that daddy didn’t assure me that everything was going to be fine.
I made him promise to be strong, and he said that he’d try and that everything has its end. I didn’t take “I’ll try” for an answer, until finally, I convinced him to say “yes anak.”
Daddy never lied to me. He said “I’ll try,” because he was just being honest. Daddy loves me so much, that he unwillingly lied to me by saying “Yes,” and thinking about it right now, I regret for making him do that.

Daddy was strong, but I knew how much he hated hospitals. I knew how much shivers it gave him every time a needle pinches his body. But, despite all the pains that he went through, it was still me, my mother, and my three other siblings whom he constantly thought about.

The last time I called him, dad was sleeping and all I could hear was snoring, and I believe it was his way of telling me that it was time for him to rest.

Not being with my dad for almost nine years was a struggle, but it was something that I have constantly prepared and planned for. However, not seeing him forever was never a part of it.

To all those people whom daddy treated as family there in the states, thank you. No amount of gratitude will suffice how overwhelmingly thankful our family is to all of you. I know daddy will be my angel, will be our angel.

Daddy, I love you. We love you. I may not understand it now, but I am hanging on to my Faith that tells me that all these have its reasons. I admire you for building a very strong family. A family filled with unconditional love. I am sorry dad for everything, you know how much in love I am with you.

You may be gone physically, but everything you taught me will stay. With this extreme feeling of loss is a promise that I will someday make you proud. I know you are in good hands now. Rest well my daddy, and forever you will be my hero.
To daddy, here's my song for you:
Every little thing
by: Dishwalla
Let me in
to see you in the morning light
to get me on and all along the tears they come
see all come
I want you to believe in life
but I get the strangest feeling that you've gone away
will you find out who you are too late to change?
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
some times

lift me up
just lift me up don't make a sound
and let me hold you up before you hit the Ground
see all come
you say your all right
but I get the strangest feeling
that you've gone away- you've gone away
and will you find out who you are too late to change?

I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
some times

Don't give me up
don't give me up tonight
or soon nothing will be right at all
will you find out who you are too late to change?

I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted

Wednesday, August 15, 2007


I am tired, can't you see? I am not complaining. I love what I am doing. It is just that, sometimes, you people forget that like you, I too am human. There is just too many responsibilities, too many expectations. All I'm asking is JUST one day. One day to wake up late, one day to have my nails done, and one day to read Tales of two cities by Charles Dickens; given to me by a good friend of mine, Aiken. I know, my enumeration of things that I want to do may sound shallow to you, but it is a desperate call for spending some time with me, myself and I.

Monday, August 13, 2007


I regained the courage to move on, until I heard that stupid love song.

I want to remind you how much I was giving you EVERYTHING. I want to push you real hard, hoping that maybe you'd hit the wall and feel how much pain you caused me. But, on the other hand, I think I don't need to see nor talk to you anymore.

For some time now, I thought I was okay. I was having the time of my life being single, spending so much time with my friends without feeling accountable to anyone, but to myself. Until, it hit me: The pain is still there, together with all the morbid memories.

Everytime I see my friends being heart broken over somebody, it always reminds me of what had happened. I can't wait to get rid of these all. I can't continue living with memories of you haunting me. They say that TIME heals, and I believed that. But, I think they were too excited forming that cliche that they forgot to specify how long?

Sunday, August 5, 2007

its all a game

I am starting to believe that romantic relationships have a new meaning. In a relationship that can be bonded by men-women, men-men, and women-women, it all seems to have one vicious cycle - the cycle called game. Not long ago, I hated the game where one just have to get hurt. But, just recently, I realized that there is no point hating the game for what can I do? That's the game and the game has its rules. However, the rules did not write on who the constant players are. So, right now, I'm not hating the game, but I am hating the players. Whoever said that the players can never change? Of all the "games" that I've been to, I have always given my opponent the consent to defeat me, but not anymore. Now, I am starting to understand the game more and this time, I am going to play it right.

our baby, our angel

For 21 years...

I have been the family's princess

I have been everybody's favourite

my grandmother's love

my brother's responsibility

my mom's companion

my dad's pride

For 21 years...

I never had someone to look after

I never had to worry of getting the bad share

I never felt like I should worry

but, after 21 years of convinience full of love and care from the people who loves me unconditionally, I am ready to share that with somebody. Somebody who isn't even out in the world yet, but I'm already treating as my queen.

To Jairah Carlisle Torres, my first nephew, I'm inlove with you already. I always made myself believe that I was the only baby and princess in the family, but as you are now in our lives, I will always be more than willing to share the throne with you, or even give the throne all to yourself. I'll see you soon our dearest angel!

Friday, July 27, 2007

My Heart Speaks

If, for example, things wouldn't turn out the way I would want it to be, would it hurt you the same way that it would hurt me?

If, for example, you would never hear from me as often as you used to, would you ever try to reach me out or would you just simply let it be?

I admit, I long for the moment where you would look at places and remember the times we spent there together

I hope, that you would look back and realize that you just let go of somebody who was willing to love you and be with you

I know my worth, but still, I keep on trying to prove to you that I am what you want.

They say loving is never stopping in believing, but what if finally I decided to give up? Would you stand up, be the man, and finally do the fighting for me?

I don't know how long will this take me, I don't know how long will this take us, but I am living for the moment.

Maybe you'll know that its me that you've always

wanted by the time I leave.

It might be sooner or later. But, hopefully, by the time that you have already made up your mind, time hasn't given up on us yet.

I hope the time will never come when all I can say is "its too late."


The midnight has swallowed her innocent face
her smile so rare turned gray
and her lips so pink turned pale
what did life do to her? You may ask
the beauty of her soul you know
the enchanting embrace of her grace you see
How much you want to run to her
give her all the love you think she needs
show her the compassion she seeks
inch by inch you're closer
step by step you feel her breath
touch by touch you know she's there
And finally, when everything is just so near
the mirror glass broke and there you see
images of you as her broken into glassy pieces

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Bugtong hininga

Isang gabing mapangulila
mga matang patuloy na lumuluha
pusong naghahanap ng pang-uunawa
sumisigaw ng pagsumong mahirap ikaila

Naisin mang pumikit at lumimot
Sugat ng puso ay sadya paring kumikirot
Nanaising maglakbay ng walang hanggan
masagot lamang ang katanungang tilang walang kasagutan

Sa gabing mapangulila
mga matay patuloy paring lumuluha
ngunit sa kabila ng kaguluhan bumabatid sa isipan
hawak parin ang dasal ng walang hanggang kasiyahan

The perpetual blogger

I am a perpetual blogger. I write to curse, and I write to simply just express some things that are just better expressed in writing. My blogs are mostly about the matters of the heart and that is not because I am just the type of a person who over analyzes a lot. Rather, writing when somethings is bothering me inside makes the words more sincere and makes the scribbling easier and more spontaneous. So, upon reading my blogs, you will not only realize how bored I can sometimes be, but it is just like giving you a consent to know and comment about what I am feeling on certain matters in my life.

And why :What's behind the yellow smiley face?" It's because no one really knows what;s behind it and like me, you can never decipher my thoughts and my real being unless you know what this writer without a pen writes in the air with her thoughts and day dreaming.