Today marks the first year of the attempt.
For weeks, I mumbled the line between my tongue if only to make the words seem more believable and the truth seem more real that here I am, still alive and kicking, even in the face of an almost-death which took place exactly a year ago. Continue reading “Meditations on Life and Death (Surviving the Attempt + Other Stories)”
We all have stories we tell ourselves since time immemorial; narratives we repeat to ourselves throughout our lives until they form part of our philosophy and become the ultimate driving force of our rationale.
Continue reading “Sex, Love, and Other Drugs (Pt. 2)”
My first kiss was at the back of someone else’s room: dimmed lights, darkened walls, frayed sheets. The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus blasting music in the background like some kind of an affirmation for my action. The rest of the world slowly shifting into a silent sea.
Continue reading “Sex, Love, and Other Drugs (Pt. 1)”
By the time this blog post is up, I would probably be somewhere up North, backpacking my way through town after town, roaming recklessly like the eternal wanderer that I am, talking to people and asking for directions because your girl is forever clueless at navigation, getting to know strangers like I have never done so in life, meeting locals as if they are family (because, at least for now, they are), and finally circling my way around the northern coast of the archipelago — in search of nothing, in praise of everything.
Continue reading “Filed Under Lest I Forget: The Ocean, The Sunset, The Light + My First Acid Trip”
When I was in sophomore year of high school, we were asked to write a book about our lives. A book narrating our birth, our stories. A book introducing ourselves to the world.
I remember pouring my soul into that autobiographical project. Being the shameless, self-confessed (oftentimes narcissistic) writer that I was, I wrote paragraphs after paragraphs, convinced to myself that I was writing something important. I saw my life sharply on a smooth, linear, uninterrupted path. I summoned my memories as effortlessly as breathing.
Continue reading “Selfish Specters and the Curse of Forgetting”
If you were given a chance to sleep and wake up 500 million years into the future, would you do it? Would you wish to wake up to a world where humanity, and perhaps the whole of the planet, is entirely annihilated? Where the memory of a former life is so distant and out of reach that it almost feels like you are waking up to an entirely different lifetime? Where the faces and the places surrounding you are no longer tinged with an acute sense of warmth and familiarity? Would you be glad to know that you are alone now, no longer surrounded by the people you once knew, no longer in the presence of every living being you once associated with your own dear life, the memories of them woven in the lonely background of your own, finally becoming one and intertwined.
Continue reading “Sleepwalking Through the Singularity”
If you dig deep into this blog, you will find that the first entry I’ve ever written, almost seven years ago, was about a boy. I met him during my first year in college. I couldn’t remember anything about that day now. All I could clearly recall was the sun, burning brightly outside the classroom like there was no end to its flames, and his smile, warm as July weather to my heart that was frozen as ice.
And just like that, I fell madly in love with him — no questions asked. It was as if I was caught in a trap, almost as if the Universe never even gave me a chance to run and escape, or never even asked me if I was ready to risk my heart for what would turn out to be a grand torment of an experience.
Continue reading “Epilogue Part III: There Was Once A Boy Behind This Blog”
I stood by the bridge, overlooking España Boulevard and UST. I thumbed through the spaces that surround me, overtaken by the swooping sensation that I was so close to the world, yet so distant and so disconnected from it all. Lights blinked from every corner of the place like kaleidoscope colors splashing life to the dead canvas of my troubled mind.
Continue reading “Epilogue Part II: Genealogy of Heartbreaks”
One . . . two. . . three
The jeepney swerved to the left and to the right before it made a full stop at a gasoline station where its tank was filled with fuel: hot, brazen, and gold. I imagined the smooth texture of the combustible fluid sliding effortlessly down my throat, setting my body in flames. I remembered the film I saw once about a Buddhist monk who burned himself to death in 1963: how fire licked his skin, his robe, his being, and how he felt nothing. I wanted so badly to assume that he died feeling nothing.
Continue reading “Writing as Memory”
It feels so peculiar typing the word April on this page.
It was only yesterday when my eyes glittered at the sight of fireworks on New Year’s Eve; only yesterday when we welcomed the zodiac year with towering wishes for good health and good fortune; only yesterday when I blew my candles away and embraced a brand new age of existence. Continue reading “April in a Nutshell”
For the longest time in my blogging venture, I have never felt the urge to post any of those “life update” entries where people share the latest stories about their life, mostly because I believe that I do not owe anybody an explanation for my life and that nobody really cares about what’s really going on.
Continue reading “Wander Weekly 02: A Tour Inside My Head”
All of us look back to a certain time in our lives, seeking for the same turbulence of the New Year celebration and trying to relive the excitement we once had as a child, but finding instead that all of our attempts only lead us to a place where it is silent and calm.
Welcome to the world of adulthood.
Continue reading “An End to a Year and the Myth of New Beginnings”
Weekends are for crashing into bed and tucking yourself beneath blankets; your favorite teenage playlist banging rock music in every corner of the room as if it is some kind of a personal familiar comfort, melting the world of its temporary intimacy and sense.
Weekends are for reminiscing and travelling back in time. Your unmade bed is a space machine and your imagination are wings transporting you to a decade of wander and wild spirited youth. Continue reading “In Remembrance of Youth”
There should be a word for the gap in our souls, for this hollow space in our chest where our hearts used to be.
I reach out for myself, dragging my hand all the way down my trembling lips, my bruised neck, my aching collarbones, and notice the cracks stretching infinitely into that lonely cave they call heartbreak. I let my hand wander further and find my skin a vast ocean of memories. My eyes water, my tears forming pool and tracing an island of scars.
Continue reading “An Ode to Sinking Sorrows”
The mortal cries
This eternal sleep
This interminable repose
Lips pursed, blood shot
eyes, she watches
A mortal, in silence
The mystic moon is weeping
on her cratered balcony rail
where Luna has awaken.