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.


So I’ve been asked about the best advice I could give on how to be beautiful, considering the social and economical construct that we have.
I was offended at first for it came to me as a sarcasm. Like seriously, putting terms of aesthetic and life’s daily dilemma in a single sentence. How can you find beauty in everyday struggle? Plus the fact that I do not exceed beauty compared to others who I think really is beautiful. They can provide better answer than me.
But spending my time alone in a coffeeshop late last night looking and feeling ugly after a long shift made me think how to answer such question. I have to accept the fact that socioeconomic status do have an impact in today’s definition and appreciation of beauty.
Given the social climate that we have, I won’t start saying that beauty is within, especially when there are hearts that are kind and pure yet receive even underrated forms of bullying at work or in any other place because of their looks. I won’t say that one must invest in beauty regimens while others doesn’t even have the luxury of buying food to eat. I won’t even say just be positive all the time, for such refuses to acknowledge the needs of those suffering from mental illness.
So, my answer? Sleep.
Being sleepy is a way your body tells you that it needs to heal and recover. To repair what time and nature has damaged. To cleanse and renew the dying spirit within. You’ll feel refreshed and feeling good about yourself once you wake up. Plus it is the luxury that every one can have. 
“If you wanna feel good, then why not eat your comfort food?”
Can anyone buy their comfort food? And even if they can, binge eating could still lead to malnutrition in the long run and hence feeling bad about yourself afterwards. 
Beauty starts to radiate outside if you start feeling good inside and out. And there’s no amount of money or food that can come near close to sleep. It is cost-effective way to achieve beauty. Even psychiatrists confirm that sleep is beneficial for those with psychiatric problems and emotional instabilities. 
I myself sleep for an average of 8 to 10 hours a day and there’s nothing that can beat that feeling when you’re comatose for 10 hours in your bed. It helps you think clearly. Reassess your life goals, address problems with solutions you haven’t think of when you were tired. You’ve shred off negativities and bad aura upon waking up. Fresh start gives you that positive feeling about everything. You’d start appreciating things you’ve neglected when you were preoccupied with your daily stressors. And you smile for no definite reason at all. That kind of smile is infectious to others, and they would see you as a someone with a personality they would need in their lives. 
And I think that’s beautiful. 

Dead End

It all started with a pop. And all desire and inclination towards metamorphosis bursted into thin air. With the fear  of having a shorter life lingering in my head, I thought distancing myself from what would slowly kill me is the proper way to live.
So I stopped doing things that excite me. Things that give me rush of endorphins. Things that make me strong. And other things that used to take my breath away can now literally take me to my last.
I thought I was living. Then sadness and depression came in as the happy hormones are bunked off. And the colors of each day became blue then gray then black and white. I am withering like a tree losing its leaves as seasons change and as time goes by. I grew weaker everytime as life’s responsibilities I bear becomes heavier on my shoulders. And things just pass through me carrying a chip of my soul as they go. I am alive but feeling dead within.
I tried to go back. To what I used to be. To stop letting the fear of death bind me of my own misery. To see myself as a part of every sunrise, of rebirth, of renewed hope and change. And the courage to rebuild my strength and my will, the courage that I tried so hard to rebuild within despite the doom I constantly feel became desperation. It turned to be my constant plea to myself, for I know there’s no one who can help me to overcome these inner struggles. Then my desperation lead me to desperate actions of foolishness and self-destruction. My will is weak but it is strong enough to help me not to quit. At least for now.
It’s hard but I have to admit that I’ve let so much time to pass and now the road back seems to have drastically changed. I am a kid crying on my own, caught between the fear of my present, my dream of the future and the memories of my past. Now I’ve lost my way back.
I’ve forgotten what I should become and who I used to be.


I have to go.
A phrase I’ve been telling myself. Either to convince me or to remind me that I should. That I should let these wild fantasies and broken dreams go and start somewhere with someone else. That I have to forget our plans for the future and the sunsets that we should catch. That I have to  bury the memories filled with faint smiles and laughters. And those moments that I prayed would never end. 
It wasn’t healthy for us anymore. Least for the things we value most. What we had was too toxic for our bodies and poison to our hearts. And so we departed ways.
—————————————————————————–Weeks after we found each other again. With the same belief we shared and better understanding of our circumstances. Yet we are still willing to play the game. To see which one of us is going to get burned by the flame of our insanity. We relived those days how we felt when we watch each other talk, and smile in each other’s laughter. We tried to remember the imprint of our scents, hoping they could bear the same effect like smoke from that amphethamine we thought we’ve shared. We are living those days when we were dead just to find if the present still makes sense.
We departed with the same short amount of euphoria we hoped we’d had. With the memories of the touch we gave in each other’s skin and our hands that tangled with one another, and hugs that we thought we could no longer make. So long were the days of our summer madness. And the kiss in the lips that we no longer did.

Hello Rain. I’ve missed you.


They say every summer has a story. Mine started earlier than expected. And ended sooner than I wanted it to be.

I loved how the circumstances had led us to where we are right now. We played fire despite knowing how it would burn us if we don’t get our shit together. How we gamble with time as we end our days watching lovely sunsets sealed with a romantic kiss. We savoured those moments holding each other’s hands and wrapped our bodies with each other as we escaped the despair that we are both trying to forget. Everything was perfect.

Except that we are not in a relationship.

For you are shackled with your emotions. I am binded by my choice. And as far as we wanted to push this through, we know we cannot. So we’ve waited for each other hoping that one of us would eventually choose to break towards freedom to be together. So we enjoy days and collect memories as we did. It was a good plan.

Except that none of us breakfree.

So we play this push and pull of emotions. To know who would fall deeper to make the first move. And the competitive nature within us created a vortex that pulled us both deeper into the darkness, uncertainty and realization that if we continue, we would end up getting hurt. We knew that it was time to let go.

Except that we never did.

We may not have violated each other’s body, but we’ve been fucking each other’s feelings ever since. And it felt good. Better than what I usually did with my fuckbuddies but more painful than my failed romances. And I have let this summer fling consumed me, contaminated me and disrupted my senses on how I see things. Of what is right and what felt good. And as we slowly drifting apart, I am starting to remember what we had that was almost like summer.

Warm, blinding, sweaty and wasn’t really meant to last.


Psychology tells us that our actions are product of adaptation and protection of our ego. We behave in a way based on what we experienced in the past and how the latter mold us to survive and cope up with the stressors we are living in the present.

Now based on this generalization, one could say that the way we act in terms of love could be a product of the mistakes and lessons we had in our previous relationships. That inability to apply previous learning or modify unnecessary behaviors would mean failure to thrive. And being able to identify and modify such actions could increase the chance of success in the aspect of love and relationships.

I have learned in the past that the foundation of any good relationship is not love but trust. The stronger the latter is, the more the relationship could bear any storm and the more the relationship can stand through any obstacles faced along the way. Love is good; it defies all odds, but the pain caused by mistrust can create a scar on a humans’ fragile ego resulting to inability to perform what is required to make a relationship work. Humans tend to turn their backs from honesty and truth fearing that it could hurt them but in reality, it hurts more when you realize that your version of truth is different from what really it is. 

You cannot love if you cannot trust. You trust other person that he/she wouldn’t hurt you after you’ve given most of your self. You trust that at the end of the day, you still deserve the same kind of honesty that you’ve given. That you could sleep well and wake up at the feeling of being complete despite giving a part of you that you know could break. And living each day with the euphoric thoughts that there is someone you could rely and depend yourself on without prejudice and misjudgment after you’ve open yourself up with so much honesty.

 You can no longer love if you can no longer trust. If you forced yourself to go on with broken trust, then you’ll find each night before going to sleep unbearable. And you’d wake up with a hollow feeling within that is bigger than the night before. You’d feel the emptiness and death of something that didn’t even lived. You’re consumed with uncertainty each day and despite being surrounded by people, you’d feel more alone than before in a sea of superficial strangers who were trying grasp something that is already broken and hollow inside you. And you’d ask yourself what haven’t you learned in the past that lead you to the same lifeless feeling you have now.

Trust me. I know that feeling.


I wasn’t sure what you needed. But I am sure on what you deserve. Although it was easier for me to say to leave your shitty lover who doesn’t give a fuck with your worth. And it felt like I’m obliged to save you from your misery. To help you see this world better. That the world we live in isn’t that cruel. That there are people who will love you no matter what despite of your nothingness. See I didn’t came to you to love me. I came to you to make you realize you are worth loving.

Those days I have given you things that I should’ve given to someone. Yet I am allured with your pain and sadness. Misery really do loves company.  And I wanted to take that all away. Those sinful yet happy days flew fast. And I was half hearted complaining for those days spent doing things against the bounds of commitment. But it left us, at least me,  wanting for more. Until you declared your love to me.

You see, I replied in a way not to invalidate your feelings, but to put you some sense that yes it was love but not the romantic kind. For there is still someone occupying the space in your heart. And maybe I just made you feel something that your lover never made you feel and hence the feeling of infatuation. I just assured you that what every happens, you’ve got a friend in me. And I wanted to be the closest and the best that you’ll have.

I tried to maintain the safe distance. For you not to fall deeper for me but me still close if you break down and fall. And now we are here. Barely talking strangers yet with memories deep and engraved to our aching hearts. But I can’t blame you if you feel to do such. I wanted you to free the space in your heart that makes it heavy. But I didn’t wanted you to feel empty afterwards. I guess that’s impossible especially if I can’t even fill that emptiness within knowing I am hollow myself.

After all, it’s the space that I wanted you to have and now you’re seeking for it on your own. Who am I to stop you? I just get attached to easily and I’m still working on that being left behind so it pains me to see what we have become.


So, there goes the memories of my summer madness.

Gone with the thin blow of the wind.

Let me burn in the heat of the mighty sun.

Hoping that the winter in my heart would end.