The movie had so many miss. The same with the actor’s failure to deliver in some scenes. The unnecessary punch lines and shouting almost made me walk out of the cinema.

But then again, you’ll eventually forgive and forget those miss shots for those eventual hits. Hits that strike so hard you could feel the pain resonating in your bones from the inside. You’ll feel the hollowness within and you’ll start remembering things and feelings you’ve never wanted to feel because of a failed romance.

Alessandra De Rossi on the other hand still delivers what is expected from her. Her character is the embodiment of the person I have the tendency to become in the future. The one who gets lost his ownself after giving almost everything for love. The one who keeps every fucking single thing inside him until it consumed all the life and all the love out of him. Then he would live his life, with apathy in his eyes, feeling pain but dead inside.

Though the movie was executed with respect of the coping stages, the cohesiveness of the clips could be better. The roller coaster of induced repetitive-feelings at some point already gets tiring. The river of emotions only gets easy to flow with towards the end of the movie. Where you started to understand everything. And you started to see where each characters are coming from. And you feel both of their pain. And that’s where Ivan Padilla rises up. You can see the fragility, the crushing of ego, and the pain in his eyes. When he just let his eyes tear and his calm voice crumbles.

I seldom do create blog reactions from movies, and I wonder why this one catches less attention that it deserves. Worthy of the shed tears and endured pain, this movie is a must-see for those hopeless-romantic and for those who suck with goodbyes like me.



I should’nt have opened the door that I closed the last time I saw you. But your name popped into my mind like a ghostly whisper minutes before the witching hour. And remembering your face made me feel something inside. Like an excitement before taking your first happy pill. I know that it will be bad, but we need poison from time to time to know if this life is still worth living. So I decided to peek at the only hole you left me with.

And you never failed to serve me rollercoaster of emotions. From knowing that you’ve started looking for meaning in your almost perfect execution of your life up to the pain of knowing that the positive demeanor and enthusiasm during our meet up was caused by someone else and not by me.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, you have someone to inspire your eyes and your heart to execute your art hidden under your fingertips. That ain’t me. I had to accept that I will never find traces of my existence in your words. Nor my visions in the colors you combine. But what’s painful is that, I have let you be tattoed in my memories and engraved in my heart. You inspire the pain I keep within. The kind of pain that reminds me of living. The kind of pain from looking for something right from same old mistakes and chasing someone for the wrong emotions.

I had to accept the fact that we had (if ever there is) was nothing but a bittersweet romance; that you will never write for me while I can’t stop writing about you.

Lost Soul

Yes, I know. I easily get tired of the present. Of the usual, the routinary, the repetitive, and the common. I easily find myself detached to relationships, to things and to most people. Most of the time, I find myself staring aimlessly, with thoughts wandering to different lands and different scenarios that most people would find absurd or whimsical.

I frequent some places suitable for long hours of day/night dreaming, of continuous speechlessness and muted conversations. Places of high altitude, wind lightly whispering in my ears, with citylights twinkling in the distant. Like fallen stars blessing the dark land with some unspeakable beauty. And for one, I have as always, remained speechless.

Yet here I am, still detached from earth. With all these wandering, daydreaming and staring; with all these unquenchable wanderlust I’ve been trying to satisfy, and all the foreign lands I’ve been exploring, all of these be attributed to that one simple reason. I am on continuous search of that supreme connection. The reason of my existence. The purpose of living. To find my place here on earth. Maybe if I do find my place, things would somehow make sense. That all these struggles are worth it, and all those sadness for no reason would finally be gone, those tears would not be wasted, the loneliness would disappear and the fight for existence would finally be real.

The twist? One must become one with the earth to find that connection. Ironic isn’t it? That the reason for struggling for existence could possibly be learned upon death. That things would make sense in a glimpse when you have seen death in front of your eyes. And the supreme connection you’d be having is the one with the universe.

So maube I’ll wander around for now.

Until I accept death as an answer.


“Don’t you find this.. weird?”

“What?” I asked back with my eyes closed against the blinding rays of the morning sun.

You pull your arms from my chest. Took a deep breath and looked straight to the ceiling.

The room started to get lighter. The colors of the wall has started to change and the warm temperature was too bland compared to the coldness of your voice.

“..sex as a temporary fix.”, you said.

“Who says sex would fix anything?” I answered.


“..what are we doing then.”

The silence made everything heavier like always. For these are the questions I would gladly answer but I can’t find the right words. If it weren’t for birds and the morning breeze brushing through the trees, you’d hear nothing but the dead beat of my heart.

“I don’t know. But would it make any difference if I told you that loneliness seemed to be kept far from the bay when my skin touches yours? Can you imagine how your kiss and the warmth of your breath calms the storm raging within me? Would everything look different if you knew that even a single night of talking with you helps me find my sanity? I may go back to the old me once you’ve stepped out of here but please don’t forget that you keep me alive for another night.”

“I need some fixing too.” You uttered.

“I know you do. But even if I try, I am not the fix that you need. You’re broken. I am broken. We can’t fix each other out of our own misery. But if in our brokenness, you’d forget even a chip of loneliness clouding your heart, then I would keep on signing up.. until you don’t want me to.”

“Okay.” you said, smiling.

“Wanna have breakfast? I can prepare something.” I stood up and stretched my body. I could feel the rush of endorphins in my blood.

“Sounds good. Breakfast dates are always better than morning sex.”

I looked back and saw in your face that pleasant smile showering in the morning rays. You looked hopeful and happy even if your eyes were closed.

“Hmmm. Good morning beautiful.” I said.


Years past I have let the arsonist in me burn the bridges of the people and memories I collected in the past. I aged and grew forgetting good times and engraving heartaches to my scars I present today. I have long believed that there are people who will never be with us as we reach the end of the road and no matter how I wanted them to be just arm-reach, they cannot. I believed that they do deserve the great life stored for them. Even if that means I am excluded from it.

I grew bitter with the practice honestly. I barely remember the face of the first friend I had in kinder. When all my classmates were running and playing, there I was sitting in the corner by myself. He sat beside me and asked me if I wanted to join him scribble at the back of his notebook. I found a friend to someone who doesn’t want to get stinky and dirty from playing.

I barely talk with my classmates and schoolmates in elementary. Eventhough our population were only half of that one section in a public school. But I had someone who treated me like a real friend. He always invited me after school. He asks me what PS game I wanted to play. Or what food should we buy. But I never treated him the same way. Despite knowing that he had asthma at that age so he musn’t get tired. His mom who is a single parent and works during office hours leave him with money he could spend whatever he wants to compensate for the time being alone from lunch time until sunset. There are days I go with him after school, but most of the time, I dont. He only longs for my companionship, yet I was too blind and too young not to see it.

Highschool and college molded me into someone who’s afraid of stares and people. I seeked solitude and isolation too much during those days where I was supposed to be molded properly by the society with respect of the values I grew up with. I wanted to go somewhere, leave this body and go anywhere far. I desired escape so much, I had started seeing myself in a third person’s view. I hated myself. I hated who I was. I hated everything about me. I kept asking myself “why are you like that?!”. And all that hate had encased me. The fear of rejection and the rejection I had for myself had built the wall that brought me in the dark.

I have long lived hiding in the dark. With the view of the stars and the moon above balming the pain I carry within. I have burned the bridges that people could’ve used to reach me out. I opted to forget everything that made me remember all the pain of my past. I wanted a new start.

Years later, I found myself lonely. I thought I was okay living all by myself. Yet I see some of the friends I made in the past surrounded by the people they value the most during those special days. You can see and feel the genuiness of their smiles and laughters. And the support system they boast during their bad days. Compared to me, smiling alone during those special moments, or cradling myself to sleep when I cry. Years later, I still hate myself. And I still asking the same question of why am I like this.

Almost turning a year older. And I still haven’t learned.


Muted by the sun. Echoed by the moon. Once again I faced the demons that choked my voice; the demons whose eyes submitted me into constant scrutiny and judgment under their own approval. The demons who’ve granted me freedom on their temporary absence for me to scream out the wails of despair across the land embraced by darkness.

I’ve let the anguish of the dying heart flow like the river of tears. Drenching the soul parched with life and laughter. Yet drowning myself from outburst of suppresed melancholy. I am gasping for air of sanity. I am struggling with my will to live. I raised my arms above me, hoping someone would pull me out of my own misery. But I stayed under, with the light of the sun passing through the spaces of my fingers.

And on my last breath, I sinked deeper into oblivion. I slowly enjoyed the silence it brings. I’ve accepted the coldness embracing my skin. I am contented with the brokenness of my soul. That in my darkness I found my peace.

Then fire breaks, and the demons ain’t letting me slip through. With their claws grasping my neck, they choke my voice; reviving me for another cycle of almost bearable way dying.

I’m tired. And I’m tired of trying.


That long night drive after every exhausting day at work makes you remember the love that failed your heart. You’ll enter that state wherein you let your mind wander on the thoughts you’ve tried to lost while leaving your body staring lifelessly at those warm night lights. And the irony of wanderlust filling a soul imprisoned in a tired body starts to consume you. And you wish you were somewhere else with someone from the past. You imagine the face, the other reason why you have to let go of the love that you thought wasn’t meant to be.

And the rain started to trinkle. Leaving the earth drenched with tears. And the radio plays the song that reminds you of the person. And you feel the emptiness from within that barely even existed minutes ago. You savour the feeling of pain as if it is still fresh from yesterday’s cut while the rain moistened the grass and the trees along the pavement. You watched as the fog started to embrace the scenery until everything appears cloudy as your thoughts. And you see the silhouette of that person but disappears in a blink of an eye. And you realize that the obsession is playing with your senses, the same way that person played your heart. 

You close your eyes for a minute. And tried to remember the feelings that caused you pain and happiness. That talk you spent at the sunken garden. How invisible yet vulnerable you’ve felt. And the darkness, though presented uncertainty, have blinded your anxieties of the future. You remember that time you’ve spent listening to foreign jazz music. While synching your breathing to each other. The way you’ve felt the thud of your half’s heartbeat in your palms. You smile with your eyes closed knowing you’re both doing the same thing. You remember the intimacy. The sex under the morning sun. Of good mornings filled with kisses and blows in the nape. Of the hugs that seemed too tight, the belief that neither will ever let go.

And you open your eyes again. And your back to the reality you attempted to escape. And with love, just like an exhausting day at work, you would ask yourself whether you’ve done your part. Whether you’ve exhausted all the efforts that you can give. You ask whether you could’ve done something different. To change the course of your failed romance. And you let your thoughts continue to wander as you press on the gas. Across the empty intersection on a cold damp sunday night.