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 youths who are still looking 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. ūüėā 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 ¬† ¬†right 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. ¬†Dreams 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.

Appreciated

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I sharpened my pencil, took a deep breath and smile. Thinking about all those heartbreaking foolish thoughts is a waste of time. I will now stop glorifying pain and start believing that no one can stop me. Not a single person. Not even the person who can’t even see a gold bar while he’s busy picking up stones to bring me down. I fell down seven times and I stand up eight.

“I was a dreamer before you came and let me down”

That was the lyrics that I’ve been singing last time. “White horse” of Taylor Swift is a good song and I can’t help but love the lyrics. Let’s go back to what I was saying. Many times that people crushed me down and dig me into deeper part of my soul until I can’t even breath the same air with them. I always think that people won’t appreciate me. I believe that they could not even look and read every messages I’ve been sending them until one day, someone told me that I did good. Liitle did you know how my heart jumps whenever someone would appreciate something that I really did , not for the purpose of just doing it. I love writing and just because someone rejected me doesn’t mean that I can’t be somebody. After I made every poems, songs and stories for someone, I feel down and low. For he can’t appreciate the beauty of every fabric of my thoughts. I always give a piece of my soul to everything I was reminded of every happy and sad memories, it just popped until I’m lost. Lost for words and untameable to the uncontrollable emotions that defines me as a person. I will keep on dreaming. No matter how toxic people became. No matter how hard to believe in myself. Hey, if you’re reading this, thank you. Thank you for taking one step closer to my soul. Thank you for cheering this unspeakable person inside me who became weak af.
It may be just a simple crap for some but thank you for believing that I can really do it.

In a world where everybody’s been busy looking for answers and satisfaction, I’ll continue being the same guirl who will never be afraid to accept my weak points. I will never be stagnant to where they break me. I will never stay to that place where I see myself damaged. I will walk away and breath. I will never look back and stare, for I am not the same girl who will cry the same tears. But as I walked away, I will always remember who I was. How good I was in loving someone who can’t even love me back. How stupid I was to believe and trust myself that I could still make it happen. How I was blinded to the idea of loving you. I will walk away and smile. Happy, yet broken. But not forever broken.

It is Okay to be WEAK Sometimes

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¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬†Yeah, It is really okay to be weak sometimes, to be on your knees begging for some ¬†chance that you promised you”ll surely do. Perhaps, not every people gives a second chance. Most of them are tired of hearing your unending promises and that’s the reality my dear. BUT it is really okay to cry, to give up and to move forward. It is okay to feel down, to realized that you’ll never get everything you want. Knowing that you have the courage ¬†to fight, some people will not gonna fight with you. You sometimes fought alone and that’s okay. Tho many scars you have right now indicates how you survived from all those battles, it still hurts right? And I will tell you right now that you are not alone. You are not alone facing those kind of pain, desperately trying to give out all those efforts to heal but still not enough.

¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬†But our stories will never get old, I will still hope for the day that these wounds that have been so long to be healed will ¬†soon disappear. That all these painful words you curved here in my heart will be a masterpiece. That all these memories that reminds me how weak I was will just become a part of my history. That all these words I am typing right now will become the rhythm of my past. I’m not gonna take myself out of this dark ¬†room. Because someday, someone will turn on the lights and show me that it is worth it. That I am now free. Free from all those heartbreaking truths that you make me believe. I will be free. Yes I will,, and if someday, only scars ¬†can be seen, only smile can be captured, ¬†I will thank you for those dark days you made me feel. I will thank you for those tears I cried to ease the pain. It is okay to be weak sometimes, if being strong is all you did for a long time.

Hey, Thanks!

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To the one I once loved.

Thank you for leaving. Thank you for reminding me how awful it is to be with you. Thank you for the realization that I am enough, that tho you quit, I finally proved myself that I’m not a quitter. Thank you for those crazy memories we’ve shared together while you’re playing my heart to be crushed. Thank you for those unending chitchats and foolish talk we had. I’m thankful that you left. I have many reasons to be thankful and I’ll continue until it hurts no more. Thank you for believing that I can be easily fooled, that whenever you make me feel stupid by following you, I realized that I am indeed foolish. Foolish to the idea of love. To that crap that I’ve been dreaming since you came. But thank you for those advices that hit me and actually made a diffeence. Thank you for changing me into a new person that will never be dragged down whenever they want. Thank you for those immeasurable gifts of self-worth that I received from you but makes me feel so small. Thank you for all those things that made me realized that I don’t need to be validated by you. That my worth isn’t about how you see me but how I see myself as a person. I hate you but thank you.

Pain

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You have to deal with your own darkness. Sometimes, it took a lot of pain for you to believe that there’s a cure. It took a lot of scar to understand that beauty is from within. And it took a lot of time to realize that happiness isn’t found in one person. There may be questions that you keep on asking yourself, but still left unanswered. Some answers that you thought would be the real ones are just pretentious lies to make you believe that it’s meant to be. You have to deal with your own darkness. I will tell you that you are enough. Nothing’s wrong with you, no don’t ever think that you will never be loved. No, don’t ever think that you’re not worthy of all the respect you always dreamnt of. No. Don’t try to illuminate yourself into thinking that no one will love you again. You are beautiful, my dear self. You are indeed wonderful.
We have our own unique types of pain. Perhaps, those pain are incredible. Isn’t it? Overcoming those kind of heartbreaking experience is a relief, but how to deal with suicidal thoughts when the STORY YOU WERE ON MAY NOT EVEN BE A BETTER FEELING TO YOURSELF. That the fact that you yourself know the stories you’ve been enduring for the past few months are silently killing you inside. Pain. Demands. To. Be. Felt.
And if ever you’re dealing with your own kind of darkness right now, let’s hope. Yes, hope, that someday, soon we’ll be free. From all the chains that binds us into thinking that we are not enough. That we don’t deserve it. Let’s be hopeful, but endure it. Endure everynight of silent screams and endless cries. Endure it. Then cry again, write again, it’s okay. I’ts okay to be a sucker sometimes, it’s okay to be weak and admit how foolish you became. It’s okay to deal with all those sharp words that breaks your heart. Yeah, it’s fucking okay. To learn to let go and move on. It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t let yourself feel the same pain. It’s okay. Pick yourself up. Wipe those tears. It’s okay to be in that dark sometimes.