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Exist

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I only exists when I’m needed. I only find it good for people to hear me if they’re willing to listen. Not just to hear my soul talking, but to feel the words that has been hidden inside my torch. It creeps the hell out of me whenever they smile without reason. It gives me the urgency not to give back love for certain erotic monsters inside the box of all my childhood friends, full of fears and illusions. I hated my memories back when I was a child. It was full of anxiety, helplessness, self-doubts and unending dramas of wrong motives, ghosts stories, traumatic scenes that shuts me down. Into oblivion. Into great sadness..into conclusion not to trust people.

But conquering these are the main reason. I created memories out of all my stupid questions. I met people with good hearts and random inspiration. I don’t feel sorry anymore. Hey self, you deserve to be loved the way you wanted. Do not let one stupid memory breaks a hundred good heart of all these people.

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I couldn’t write anymore because I’m freaking happy. Maybe I’m just good at it when I’m sad. Well, hell yeah! Why? But I know how good life has been for me recently, I’ve got a new job, new colleagues and cool trainers. God has blessed me with great opportunities and loving families. No more orphan spirit or undecent thoughts. This year will be full of joyful memories,endless possibilities together with awesome people around me.

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I don’t really have a good camera to capture everything but I have eyes to see those blessings and being thankful about it. Rock en roll! Have a great day!

Twelve Years OLD

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I am older than that tho.

Being a young adult with lots of responsibilities really scares me. Like, what the hell do I have to learn to understand what adulthood really means.

I am the same girl who loves to watch cartoons and have stupid fights with my siblings. Looking bad whenever I’m just at home, wearing my old t-shirts and ragged shorts( haha). Well I am not the typical girl who will still look good even at home but, who cares by the way? I still love to play legos and tease my little brotha while playing. Tho you might think that I’m not matured enough to be 21, I could pretend being 21. Haha

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Parang kailan lang, crayola lang sa school yung pinoproblema ko. Umiiyak lang ako pag binubully ako ng mga klasmeyt kong shipuden. Badtrip talaga sila oo. Haha. Pero ngayon, pagpasa na sa interviews at pag papanalangin ng maraming tulog na yung inaasam asam mo. Gusto ko ng itigil yung pagtanda, kase alam kong ako na yung aasahan ng maliliit na mga kapatid ko. Ewan ko ba pero diba? Parang mas nakaka excite yata.

Kahapon sa church, nangingig ako sa kinauupuan ko dahil binanggit yung pangalan ko as birthday celebrant. ­čśé Grabe yung kaba ko ayoko talaga ng exposure. Pinagpray nila ko lahat at sobrang ang saya lang na ang daming nagpepray para sayo.

 

You are the Song

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Those who wish to sing will always find a song.

While I was strumming the guitar, I feel my heartbeat, trying to conquer the tunes and the lyrics that I keep on hiding for years now. I always thought that music will be my great escape to a world who never listens. But no, it’s my great tower of hope. Music is all I’ve got in times of loneliness and despair, bringing myself into endless world of chords and words. You could be anyone inside a song, inside the scenes of your own memories. It eludes you and gives the essence of life while you’re being captivated from your own fears.

Music is my bestfriend. It has been my turning point whenever people shut me down. And as I keep on strumming, I always hear myself crying inside my quiet soul, inside that soul that keeps on screaming for help, for love and for attention. I couldn’t help but change chords overtime, to feel its tune as I sing the song that my heart keeps on singing. Until the music fades and all I have was a broken string. A string that I used to ease the pain, the sorrow, the fear.But this doesn’t really stop me from singing, it won’t stop me from believing, that these strings could still find music inside. My heart beats, my veins are living, my blood flows, and I’m still breathing.

In the silence of solitude, I heard myself making it’s own music through my body, through this emptiness, through this time. I heard myself speaking the same line, singing the same songs, and listening to my own voice of silence. This is my song,, the unspoken truth of song. The undetermined tunes that keeps on breaking all of the records. I am an artist of my own.

Dream That Counts

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I am a daydreamer, looking beyond perfection, pretending that I’m a great robot that could manage to time travel. And that’s great, Whoahh. But you know that it’s impossible. Really impossible, but why do people limit themselves to dream big dreams?

My original dream is to be an architect, cause I really loved it whenever I see buildings, great landscapes and even wonderful houses sketched in a paper or in a blueprint. Ohh, I don’t know what I’m talking about ┬á ┬áright now but yeah, that was just a dream. I was about to pursue that dream and I had already passed an entrance exam at TUP back then, but my mother refused. She basically hate my decision. That time, I was really frustrated and regretful because of all the possibilities that might come my way, but never mind. Right now, I am about to graduate next year as an AB COMM major and I actually love that course though. I am really into writing, journalism, film making, photography and other stuff, but my failure to pursue what I want seems very unclear. I feel empty and a bit sad, because since I regret not to fight for that course, I stopped drawing anything.

Eventually, one simple move could change a dreamer’s choice, but at least you tried your best, may be your best isn’t good enough, but don’t feel bad. You might think about the possibilities if you fight for your right to dream, yes you failed to reach that but that doesn’t mean that God will not prepare something good on your way. ┬áDreams must be limitless, no matter how small you dream, no matter how rough the world has become, dreaming will be your great escape, your great hope, that someday, you will be the person you wanted to become. That someday, you’ll be great, better than you already imagined. Keep on dreaming, no matter how stupid it may look for some people, work silently, then achieve tremendously. You never know that the struggles you experienced will be other people’s great inspiration.

I changed my dreams, not because it’s unreachable but because God has a greater plan, He could bring good music out of a broken chords and that’s what I loved about His plans for me. It is different from mine, it’s uniquely made, I would definitely follow our game plan. No matter how hard, no matter how far. I’ll create my own world of wonders, then rock the world with a smile.

Thank You.

The God of Every Story

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We are our own enemy sometimes.

We used to believed in fairy tales, dream about the unicorns and the life-giving fruits. We are programmed to believe in every stories we used to admire, until reality kicked us back. Now that I am awakened by the love that captured me again, I will abide and stay here. In the heart of my KING, my God. To the Father who never gives up no matter how foolish I was or how how sinful I became. Some people might not understand but, being raised in a family where perfection is necessary, I used to rebel and break rules. I’m not a perfect daughter, nor a perfect friend. Those things are just part of the little pieces of why I write this.

My stories are not the same as the other people used to show in social media, my stories are different, it did not coincides with the plot you’re thinking about. This is a story of a prodigal daughter that keeps on running away but comes back after. Yeah, that’s me. A daughter who’s not perfect but willing to be disciplined. Some condemned me, how I behave, how I think, how I serve, how MY FAITH becomes out of line. I just couldn’t accept the rude expectations of people, but I will stay. Stay to that unfailing love of the Father who never condemned me but accepts me. Who never gives up but always making a way to win me back.

Living in this world, where your story must be the standard of this world, I left the course. I won’t be skipping the process of HIS plans. Though it may be hard for me to cross the oceans of all tears, I will. Because I know that it will be worth the fight. I don’t wanna live my life again but I will let the Lord live in me. To show the world that real glory belongs to THE ONE TRUE KING. To the one who loves a sinful daughter like me. Who humbled himself to the cross just to save me. He is the God of my stories. Who is the author and publisher of my life.

Fear

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When I was in Elementary, I am afraid to try anything that will surely welcome me to certain changes that I am scared of. Until one day, I tried. I tried writing an article about why do I wanted to join our school newspaper. I never expect that my teacher would notice my way of delivering my thoughts into writing. Even I, did not believed in myself right then. But he trust me. I was assigned to the feature articles and I am really scared that time to write a new article that would make another impact. Someone believed in me. Someone tried to notice me. That was the happiest moment of my elementary days. We were trained and I almost skipped classes to write endlessly because I will be the school’s representative for feature writing contest for the district level. That was my first time and I experienced having my article crumpled in front of me because that was not a good one. I almost doubt that time if I could really make it. Like, hey, I never been to any School’s Press Conference before. Some of my colleagues were really good at writing but I feel small about myself that time. My mom did not even support me to join cause she told me that I can’t do that.( but we’re good now).

Until the day of judgement came. Haha.
Butterflies in my stomach did not stop bothering me and I’m fucking nervous and my hands were shaking. We only have 1 hour to write an article about our unforgettable experience. I chose to write about our vacation in Bi col( but actually that was my grandfather’s burial that time, but I never mentioned that). I feel low after writing that piece but I have to trust God. After 2 hours, my teacher hugged me. And that was the warmest hug I ever had. He thanked me and told me that I was the champion. I cried that time because I never imagined myself winning that place. I was just a girl who tried to pass an article, but. I was just speechless. While I was crying, I thanked Sir. Vidallo for believing that I could really be a cream of the crop. He’s the first teacher who inspired me to get out of my comfort zone.
Thank you Sir. for trusting a shy introvert student like me. And if you’re dreaming a little make it bigger. Make it something that will shock anyone who’s been looking down on you. That was the beginning of my journey. On how I overcome my own fears. That by trying something new, I realized how good it is to leave mediocrity and embrace challenges.

Rain

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Rain reminds me of you. Every little things that would help me remember how hard to avoid the raindrops that have been falling from the sky. I hated rain when you lied to me. I hated the rain when she died. I hated the rain when I waited for a ride. I hated the rain when it comes. I hated the rain when I was pretending not to cry. I don’t know why, but I started to hate it when I realized that I love the sunshine.

You used to tell me how hard it is for you to rain during summer, but I love it when it rains unexpectedly. You used to ask me pointless questions about the stars and the sky, but I just smile whenever I answered it and you believe me that it’s true. You used to love what I hate, while I was hating what you loved. We have some differences and that makes us incredible.

Things changed and you start to hate what I hate and love what I hate. Until you love every hate you have and left the girl you hate. Sounds redundant? Cause you just let me feel how hard it is to love me. Give me a piece. A piece of myself that I lost in you. Maybe that would be enough for me to love myself again. To remember my worth, while walking away from that shameful situation I’ve been. Give me that piece, until I find myself again, laughing, smiling, and sincerely doing my passion without the hatred that’s been killing me inside. Give me that, and I’ll promise to love again. To believe and try again. Give me that last piece that you’ve thrown away. Pick that up and give it to me. Here’s my forgiveness and put that piece in my heart. And maybe, if I feel that piece again, I’ll be free. Free from all those memories. From those unforgettable moments of you and me. Let me have that, and I’ll be happy to go away from this near death experience.

And if someday, I’ll see you again and I’m already whole, I’ll thank you for that piece you returned. Never will I hold back again and repeat all those scenes. I’ll come to you and thank you sincerely, without any hate. I’ll start to hate the rain, because I realized that sunshine is way too better. It’s warm and I couldn’t help but to enjoy its rays. It makes my heart flutter. But whenever it rains, I’ll try not to avoid its presence. For rain thought me how to love warmth rather than cold.