A Faded Story in the Sand

I may have tried a little too hard.

I may have tried a little too hard to love you.

I may have tried a little too hard to please you.

I may have tried a little too hard to take care of you.

I may have tried a little too hard to make you stay.

Perhaps it is all because.

Perhaps it is all because no matter how much you love me, I still love you more.

Perhaps it is all because your happiness means so much more to me than my pain.

Perhaps it is because your comfort comes before any of my needs.

Perhaps it is because your presence is more important to me than the whole world’s absence.

But please know.

But please know that I will never ask you to love me any other way.

But please know that I will never ask you to be responsible for my happiness.

But please know that I will never ask you to conform to my norms.

But please know that I will never hate you for leaving.

Above all,

Please never forget that..

Despite the pain that wrecked my sanity,

Still, I will never blame you for not choosing me.

And Yet

Despite being left behind, never question if you are enough, because you gave the best that you could.

Despite being dumped, never doubt your worth because you are worth every single while.

Despite being cheated on, never compare yourself with the new girl because you are your own person and no one can compete with that.

Despite being stucked never be in haste to move on, because what you felt was real and real feelings don’t fade fast.

Despite being alone, never wallow in loneliness because somewhere out there someone is waiting to love you.

Despite being single never fool around just to have someone, because you are not just hard to get, you are hard to earn. And that my dear is so much better.

Your Yesterday Self

Hey Marj,

I am writing to you because I feel restless. Sleep seems so evasive nowadays. I can’t sleep mainly because my head kept weaving alternate endings and I kept on imagining a different universe where happily ever afters, warm reunions, magical success and triumph over sadness exist.

So here I am picking up the pen that I thought I parked a long time ago, idlely nibbling at its end and then slowly etching, drawing and creating blurry lines, intertwined figures until finally a vivid picture. Of you, and how you used to be.

You have changed tremendously. You’ve gotten a tad slimmer but more wrinkled especially in the eye area. Yes my dear you are older. Now coated with 30 flavors and then some. Just a year ago, you are too busy handing out your heart to someone who you thought was your happily ever after. You are too intoxicated with the brand of his magic that you forgo sanity. Only to find out that his love bears an expiry, and then again, your fragile heart broke into a million tiny and irreparable pieces.

And now you are trying your damnest to be brave though you are still blinded. In your desolation, you are saying and doing things without so much regard for what will be left of you. You are now too guarded, too shy, too oblivious of your own strength, too cautious, too jaded. You are constantly discontented and you just don’t appreciate the person you see in the mirror. You are spending so many sleepless nights and clouded days thinking what the hell is wrong with you. You are lost and you cry out for help. You wanted to be found. Just this once.

But despite everything, I wanted to congratulate you for making it this far. For enduring miles of crowded hell just so you can live another day. For fighting countless monsters inside your head just to have a lingering shred of sanity.

My dear, you are still flawed in many ways. Most of your dreams and goals haven’t materialized yet but you now have a fiery yearning to fight. Please know that your yesterday self feels extremely proud of you. Look at you now. Standing up on your own and facing the world with a broken but still beating heart. And slowly, you are gaining a better vision of what and whom you want in your life. You are no longer that extremely giddy girl who jumped and fell for almost anything and ended up standing up for nothing. Your experiences, good and bad, have enriched you. Like a diamond in the rough, you are getting polished and the beauty of who you are is getting revealed little by little.

Please know that you are doing great, don’t fall prey to despair and negative thoughts. Because my dear, you are awesome. You are amazing and unique in ways that you won’t fully realize or see just yet. You are who you choose to be. So please choose to be happy. Choose loving who you are now more than who you were because even if you look back everyday and try your hardest to reconstruct or change me, you can’t. I can’t. We won’t be able to. So love us both, but love YOU more.

You can still grow even more beautiful, even more resilient, even more amazing. There’s so much fight left in you. So please just keep moving.


Who you used to be

In All Honesty



Honestly it still hurts, but it doesn’t destroy me like it used to.

Honestly, I still miss you but I no longer long for you like I used to.

Honestly, I still cry at night but I don’t sleep with tears in my eyes like I used to.

Honestly, I still think about you but I don’t dwell in our memories like I used to.

Honestly, I still dream about us but I no longer want you back like I used to.

Honestly, I am still hurting but I am no longer broken like I used to.


Six weeks ago today, I got up ridiculously early in the wee hours of the morning, just to snuck kisses between his nape and shoulder.

Then I curled up beside him and cuddle his familiar frame the rest of the night.

When I woke up the next day as I turned, I tripped over a used shirt he discarded on the floor. Muttering under my breath, I picked them up and threw them in the laundry basket on my way back to bed. Just as I had a thousand times before.

Later that morning, I followed the trail he’d left behind him.

A few used cottton balls and tissues used for his skin toner. Lots of stubbles he plucked. The weary gym clothes he used. The splatter of baby powder on the counters and furnitures.

As I made my way around the house tidying up after him, I wondered if he would ever learn how to clean up after himself. He was a make-work project in so many ways. Never deliberately. He was just forgetful, and scattered, and was sometimes clumsy.

I had absolutely no idea that was the last morning I would ever clean up after him.

Or that he will want to leave me.

When love dies, they leave a vast void in their stead. Where a life once existed, now only memories.

Those memories suddenly become our most precious possessions. We gather them close to our hearts and replay them over and over on a loop; like a movie reel of a life. We cling to them desperately, hoard them even, for they are all we have left of the person we lost.

We can’t help but think of all the memories that will never be made; all the should-have-beens and momentous occasions they will no longer be celebrating with us— graduations, weddings, christmases, birthdays.

We think of all the unfulfilled hopes and dreams; the aspirations and plans for the future that are now all gone.

But gone isn’t just those big momentous events or the things they’ll never do.

Gone is so very much more than that.

Gone is a thousand tiny seemingly insignificant, ordinary things that we took for granted every single day. Things we may have even once complained about.

Gone is no more dirty clothes: no half-eaten bowl of whatever he stuck in the fridge, no more messy closets.

Gone is no more white shirts abandoned in a pile in the most random spot.

Gone is no more shopping for his favorite noodles.

Gone is no more dinner and lunch and breakfast together.

Gone is no more jogging around the park in the morning.

Gone is no more waiting outside the fitting room as he shops for the best shirt or pants or shoes.

Gone is no more weekend rendezvous.

Gone is no more tiny kisses and cuddles in the middle of the night.

As I was leaving for my run this morning, I paused in the entryway by the door. I stopped and I listened to an echo of a memory.

I looked around the house that holds a million of our memories.

There was nothing there.

Just an empty space.

Sometimes you don’t fully comprehend the significance of something so simple in your life until it is no longer there.

All too often we don’t appreciate how fortunate we are until what we have is gone.

Not that we are purposely ungrateful. We just get so caught up in the chaos of life, so busy hurrying from one day to the next, we forget to stop and be grateful for all that we have.

And sometimes in all of the stress, all of the rushing to and from, we don’t even see how much we have to be grateful for.

We very rarely stop to think about what gone actually is because, well, we never really think it will happen to us.

Gone isn’t just some throwaway term or trite cliché used to define the absence of someone. Gone is real, and it’s enduring.

And gone, it does happen to us. Randomly; unexpectedly. On a humid April morning.

Six weeks ago today I didn’t know the true meaning of gone.

I didn’t know just how hard it would be to start over.

I didn’t know about the challenges of living with a broken heart while you lost your job and you have to leave your home.

I didn’t know about the long lonely days and hours and minutes and seconds ahead of me.

And I certainly didn’t know how profoundly sad an empty apartment can be.

I locked the door behind me and as I turned, I caught one brief, final glance of the empty cabinet that used to house his clothes and the counter that holds his trinkets and beauty regimens. I brushed away a tear. Just as I have a thousand times before over the last six weeks.

What’s gone is gone, forever.

It’s so easy to be annoyed by those things; to roll our eyes and shake our heads.

The inconvenience, the cost, the clutter. And why do you always leave things lying around? Why can’t you put them away properly?

It is only after they are gone that we realize their true value.


In one heartbreaking instant.

This morning stop for a moment and look around you. Take it all in— the messy discarded gym clothes, the discarded piece of cotton balls used for his toner, the splatter of baby powder in the furniture.

Stop and think about what it all represents.

Appreciate it.

Savour it.

Now, while you still can, before it becomes but a memory.

And as you do, know just how fortunate you are to have it. Every annoying, ordinary, lovely bit of it.

You truly will miss them when they are gone.

More than you could possibly ever imagine.

Move. Just Move.

A few weeks back, my life started spiraling out of control.

The love of my life left me, I lost my job, a threat of being evicted from my apartment is looming over my head and a possiblity that I will not be able to finish my degree is in the horizon.

My life was literally in chaos. From having a normal routinary life, I was suddenly thrown into an endless pit of desolation. My future has never been that bleak that I saw no reason to actually go on. I kept on thinking that perhaps, dying is actually the next adventure I needed to take. That maybe, this world have had enough of me that it is forcing me to let go.

And then, someone told me that when you hit rock bottom, there is actually no way to go but up. And that cliche as it maybe but often times, a lot of things are being taken away from you just so you can have something better tomorrow.

I tried thinking of what I lost, and I tried harder to see what I can and will eventually gain.

So inch by inch, I decided to move. I tried fighting the demons being hurled at me day after day. I cried alone, let despair swallow me whole, felt every pain that is demanding to be felt then I wipe my tears dry, and with all the broken bones and a shattered heart, I forced myself to live and fight another day.

I cannot say that I am out of the woods yet. I still weep for the love I lost, the chances that I will never get and the vague memories of the life I thought will be mine.

But now I landed a new job with great and comprehensive benefits, I am having my own house renovated, I just enrolled for my last year as a Broadcasting student and above all, I am learning to love who I am without a shadow of anyone else.

I still have a long and gruelling journey ahead of me, but if there’s one thing I have learned from this ordeal, its that at the end of the day, all you got is you. And you have to know that with all your brokenness, you are still worth another shot. Also, no matter what you do, life is not built to be fair, so all you can do is gather what is left of you and pray that it is enough to thread another battle.

BTW, a huge shout out to all the people who never left me. You all know who you are. Thank you for giving me a lot of reasons to fight.


Night Sky

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am

Of stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them, say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky

And feel its total dark sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.


For that aim-for-the-moon, land-among-the-stars kind of girl.


Perhaps I am that girl.

The one who appears as if she got everything figured out.
The one who made it look as if life is nothing but a series
of adventures.
The one who showed the world that life was never easy but
it made sense, at least to her.

The hardest thing about being that girl is the world tend to
make example out of her.

Her struggles were more grueling.
Her problems beat her down the hardest.
Her heartbreaks shattered her whole being.
Life left her for the dead.

But still, she was that girl.

Wearing the perfect lipstick but with nails full of dirt from
digging her way out of her own grave.
Who stands straight in her 4-inch red stilettos but with a slight strain form her broken heart.
With the perfect mascarra, but eyes glossy with midnight

And she goes on.

Life is uncertain so she learned to be crazy.
Life is hard, so she decided to be soft.
Life is beautiful, so she taught herself to appreciate it.
Life is short, so she lived each moment significantly.
Life is a bitch, so she became a better one.

The One day at a Time Cycle

Heartbreak is a very complicated and gruelling experience.

At 7am, you wish your damn phone won’t alarm and you can just lay there and hide from the sunlight.

At 8am, you listen to the most uplifting and empowering music you know while making your way to work. 15 minutes later, you still feel like shit and wanted to hit that couple in the elevator kissing each other goodbye.

At 10am, you feel a sense of purpose. Like you are unstoppable and perhaps today fate will smile at you and maybe just maybe, today will be the day your heartaches will all be erased.

At 1pm, you are sobbing silently at your desk. Trying your best to be insignificant so no one will notice how badly you are falling apart.

At 2pm you will come running to the bathroom, crying some more but trying your best to fix your mascarra right after.

At 5pm you feel exhausted from your heart leading you on this emotional roller coaster and your brain unsuccessfully trying to take back control.

At 6pm you make your way to the gym. Hoping that as you do each and every reps, your tears won’t be distuigishable from your sweat.

At 8pm you try to buy the best ramen there is in town hoping to finally have the appetite to shove something down your throat aside from those sleeping pills washed down by endless bottles of beers.

At 9pm, you stare at your untouch dinner, pick up your phone, searched for his name in you messenger, saw that he is active but never bothered to send you a message. So the ramen ended up as fish food. And that tall bottle of vodka lovingly made its way to your lips.

At 10pm, you tried your best not to think of all the lingering memories of him in your house, in your bedroom. You chatted, called and IMed all of your friends to divert your attention. Then you ended up sleeping with the shirt he intentionally forgot in your washer.

Come 12 midnight, you squeeze your pillow. Shed millions of tears. Howling at the moon, wishing you can feel anything, anything but this.

The clock reads 4 am and you are waiting for the dawn to break. Knowing that you will just go through the same fucking cycle again.

Whoever said, one day at time works must have forgotten to mention that every single second of your day will suck. And every part of your body will hurt. Badly. You wanted to scream. And just throw everything else to make all the freaking pain go away.

If only there is an easy cure for a shattered heart, broken lives, and destroyed dreams.

If only.


Hastala Proxima Vez


I imagined meeting you again, in a different time when the wounds are all healed and the scars are too. I imagined seeing you in the most unexpected of places, in the least expected time because that is how it must go.

I’ll be standing in front of you like I am seeing you for the first time. And you will stare at me like a newly met stranger, no past, no present, both unknown to each other.

I will smile at you in recognition and you will give me a slight nod. An indication that somehow, you still remember the girl you used to hold in your arms.

Suddenly all the memories will seem to come back in blurred details. How I laughed when you make silly faces. How we ardently team up in Heroes Evolved. How I am the mage to your tank. How we try to solve each other’s assignment. How we beat each other’s routine in the gym. How we gulp down muchos of beers. And how you realize that time was not on our side. And how I break down that night and cried in your arms one last time.

One last time.

Perhaps God fated us to meet again. One last time. May it be for the closure that never was or for a proper goodbye, but never for a second chance.

But still I will thank God for bringing you right there and then.

I imagine keeping a comfortable distance in between us because anything going beyond that line will go past of what should be.

“Nami.” You’ll say to me. And I will remember your voice that annoys the hell out of me when you sing. The voice that keeps me sane during my thesis debacle. The voice that once shattered my heart.

“Nice to see you.” I’ll say, wanting to whisper “again” but then just offering my hand to you. Not the best greeting I can offer to someone who was once my sun and stars, but that will have to do.

Your hand will meet mine and you will give it a light squeeze. And maybe I will be reminded of all the details of your hand. The hand that I loved so much before. The hand that I prayed to God would never leave mine, until it did.

For others, awkwardness is how we may seem to look. But for us, it was a nostalgic feeling for that familiarity once shared. The feeling of stumbling into something that used to be yours, forever belonging to another.

Someday, somehow it will all make sense. Why I will stand right in front of you and not beside you. Why the ring on my left finger was given by someone else who is not you. Why there is only you and me, and no longer an us.

Someday, I imagine seeing you again. Happy in another girl’s arms while I run back to the one who loves me the way you couldn’t.

And someday it’s going to make sense.

Someday, we will get the kind of love we never got from each other, the kind we truly deserve.

Someday, I will meet you again in a different time. When all is forgiven and forgotten. When the love lost is found once again in someone else’s arms.

Someday, I will meet you again in the most unexpected of places, in the least expected time because that is how it must go.

And that will answer why we let each other go.

Hasta la proxima vez Yummy.