For my Darling D: What Was and What Could Have Been

You were… are my first love (?).

You were subtle with your affections but I knew and understood all of them anyway.

You were funny when you were jealous and I couldn’t help but tease you because you were… are just incredibly adorable.

You were persistent on making me feel safe and I adored you for it.

You didn’t talk much but, love, one glance from you and I knew.

You kept staring even when I knew you were as if you’re trying to make me stare back, and every single time you win, always… always.

You liked skipping school and I didn’t like that so you kept showing up even when you’re bored, terribly.

And yes you cared for me in ways that many did not.


You were… are many things.

You were almost mine.

I was almost yours.

But that’s the problem see.

We were almost together.

But, dearest, almost is never enough.

Never ever enough.

You showed me what could have been.

And I stopped and showed you that it could not.

Silly, silly me.

Sweetheart, I’m sorry

But I still love you.

My darling D, forgive me

But I will never stop thinking of what was and what could have been.


Success. What is it really?


What is success?  They say it is the attainment of fame, wealth, or power.

When can you tell that you’ve reached your dream? When will you say that you are successful? How do we determine a person who reached success?  Is it when you have a lot of money? When you already have a mansion? Or a lot of cars? A lot of properties?

No. It’s when you become contented with what you have. It is when you look at the things around you and say, “I did what the Lord wanted me to do.” Why? It’s because I believe that every person in this world has a purpose. And if you reached your true success, that is when you have done what you should have done. You stood to that purpose, to the mission given to you before you were born.

If you don’t believe me, then let me ask you this: “Why was Jesus born?” He was born because God wanted Him to save us, wasn’t it? He sent His precious son for us to be saved. Jesus was born for that purpose, for that mission.  He was sent by the Father Almighty to teach His words, to tell the people how He loves us. And Jesus stood up to that purpose. He succeeded and that’s the real meaning of success.

Well of course, people will always think that they are successful if they reached their dreams. I don’t oppose to that, for I too want to be successful. All people do, no? But, for those who we may call successful, are they contented with what they already have? Or do they feel like they need to do something more? I know quite a number of people that are successful, but all I can see that they are not contented with what they have. They continue working or shall we say competing with life. Competing for who is better, who can do more and who will remain. That’s what I see, that’s what I can sense. They want more; more money and more property. They couldn’t get enough of what they have. Compete and compete. “Life is a race.” I remember that line from a character of an Indian movie. And he’s right. It really is quite a race and a tiring one.

But ask those successful individuals: “What is your purpose in life?” They just shrug, laugh to that thought and continue with their lives. Well, yes. No one knows what their purpose is. Maybe they just thought: ”I’m here to live and that alone.” How do we know that this is our purpose? How? Destiny is what I believed to do the trick. You are destined to save this person, you are destined to change them or you are destined to be a servant of God. But still, that only happens if you believe. If you believe in destiny, then you, my friend, are close to success.

Sure I watch dramas or read novels a lot, but I do believe that in real life, destiny exists. Call me a hopeless romantic or whatsoever, I don’t care. Tell me, why did priests decided to be priests? Or doctors to be doctors? Is it because they’ll be rich if they chose those professions? Then tell me why there are volunteers to help the poor? Doctors who helps the sickly, priests who climb mountains to go to uncivilized places just to preach and teachers who volunteer teaching poor kids who lives in faraway places? Then when you check their backgrounds, they’re not rich. They’re simple citizens. Ask them if they’re contented, they say yes. After helping the needy, they smile to themselves, feeling proud. That is when they say they’re successful. They have reached their success and that is what true success means. It is when you help others, when you work not only for yourself or for your family but also for others.

See? You are destined to do good things. You have been given a purpose in life so live it! Fulfill it! Because after fulfilling it, you would proudly say: “I am successful because I did what the Lord wanted me to do. I stood to my purpose, accomplished my mission.”

Now that, my friends, is success.

Should I stay or should I go?

And so I wake up to another day. And the question popped right inside my blurry morning mind: Should I stay or should I go? But the answer, oh it’s simply simple really. It will be selfish to stay and selfless to go. So between the two, where do we humans usually stand? Oh how easy will it be to just stay and lock myself away from the world, but there are people out there who cares and confident that I am alright; that I am fine. That I can get back up and go. And so for them, I shall go. I really should go.

Stop. Just Stop.

Telling your head to stop replaying the events of today because you’re really tired of thinking about it over and over and over again. But it just won’t stop, will it? Because it is so adamant to tell you that you’re crap and you should just go away. But you know what, negative side of my head? Scamper off, you bloody thing! I have no need for you to control my every thoughts, my everything. Stop. Just Stop.


Do you know how much I hate those? All my life I’ve been doing what my family tells me to because I really don’t want their disappointments. After suchlike emotions, I try to avoid the person that I disappointed. And as much as possible, never see them again. But I can’t do that now, can I? I have to be bloody strong to face this crap and continue as if no such thing ever happened. But how? Oh how indeed. That is a question I know the answer to, but I never really want to do it. NO. GOD NO.

How could you?

You said you’ll understand if I’ll tell you. You said you wanted to help. But what I got instead was what I was scared of. You looked at me and smiled as if I was crazy! You said you’d understand but you mocked the thoughts that I gave you the honor of knowing. How could you? You didn’t make anything better at all. You made it worse. So maybe I’ll just keep everything from you from now on. You see, I’m not crazy. I’m just misunderstood. 

For You Do Not Know

If you are reading this, then you must be patient. Please do not be angered, for this is not a hate post, but a lesson that should be known. I must have you know that I don’t like posting personal crap, but let this be an exception.

The thing is: I don’t forget easy. Especially crap that are life changing.
If you were pissed, there was no need to go any further than citing your disappointments to me, because if you go any further with your words, you don’t know the consequences. You do not know if I was going through some rough crap that if I was pushed just a bit more, I’ll fall. To be honest, just last week, my mind was filled with suicidal thoughts. I was too stressed. I was too traumatized. I didn’t know what I was doing with my life. For the first time, I thought of crap that I didn’t even think of doing because years ago, it didn’t make any sense. But now it did. I wanted to see how my blood trickles and drops. I wanted to feel pain just so I could feel something else instead of confusion and fear of the unknown tomorrow. But I managed to contain myself. I skipped your class, if you were able to notice. I slept it all away. I even talked to my friends about it. I am conflicted whether to be glad or not because I realized I’m not the only one who feels the pressure of the crap around us. But I guess I should be. A friend told me that she was going through the same struggles as I. So I thought back then; if she can overcome this crap and wake up smiling, why can’t I? So I did the same.
But again, I was still at the tipping point of whatever crap this is.
Then this happened. I knew I was in the wrong. I knew I was wrong. You emphasized it quite clearly and I am not dumb for you to say it over and over and over and over again. I am not bragging when I say that I am one of your brightest students, but many would believe that I am. I do not understand most of your lessons like many but I try my hardest to do so because it is essential for my future and now especially my exams. You even called yourself ‘dumb’ because you assumed that that was what I thought of you. But I didn’t. You thought of that yourself. You were merely adding salt to your own wound and were blaming it to me – on me! I never thought of you that way. How could I? You’re brilliant. You’re a professional. You are someone that I aspire to become when I finally manage to attain my degree. How could I look up to someone who is dumb? You’re not dumb. And even here, I am defending you from you. I was merely scared at that time. I didn’t know if you would let me use my phone because the first time my phone rang, you saw it and you simply said that phones were not allowed. So I ended the call, trying to not mind the fact that the one who’s calling was the sister of my friend. She wouldn’t call me if there wasn’t something wrong. There’s a whole other story to that, but long story made short, she needed something, and it was important. I merely wanted to help her. But I see now that even in helping, there is consequence.
You flipped. That was the problem. You flipped because I broke a rule. I admit that I did. I thought of it as a warning, but you weren’t done yet. I continued answering, hoping that everything will be fine even until the moment I pass my paper. But like I said, you weren’t done yet. The thing is; you gave me hope. Hope that I could still patch things up with you and leave the room with confidence that I will pass. But you told me and a classmate of mine (who had also done something wrong) to get out. I nodded my head and started to pack my things. And I thought you were done, but STILL you weren’t.
Between a person’s tongue and his fist, what could possibly injure you more? Between a pen and a sword, what could possibly hurt more? Between words and punches, what is more painful?
Words are beautiful. Use it in the best way possible, and you can make anyone smile. But words, like any other creation in the world, has its downside. If used to hurt, it’s more painful than a fist, more painful than a bullet. Words can do crazy things to people who are barely holding on with whatever crap they’re holding to. And the biggest trick of all, you never know who those people are or will be.
Your words hit me, deep and dark and slow. Those were the very same words that triggered the suicidal crap that I barely managed to contain.
“Unsa di-ay akong gisaligan?”
What, indeed? What am I so confident of anyway? What I am holding on to? What is left to hold on to? It triggered more questions that you can’t even imagine. The whats. The whys. The hows. The what ifs. Especially the what ifs.
What if I fail?
What if this isn’t really for me?
What if my family knew about this?
And what if I just end it?
And the last ‘what if’ made me scared, confused, and thinking.
It was even more terrifying when the ‘what if’ became ‘why not’.
I was left to my own devices since I went straight home and my friends were not done answering yet. When I slammed my room, locked the door, turned the music to its full volume and left it near my window so my boardmates won’t hear me, I cried. I cried silently at first. I was like that for maybe an hour until I was thrashing the things in sight. I was kicking and punching and gripping anywhere. Just somewhere. Until I decided to lie down on the floor and just simply face the wall. But my body and mind had other crap planned. Eventually, my other hand gripped my wrist and pressed my pulse point. I’m no expert in the human anatomy, and I know that that’s not the most effective way to die. But I get the idea of blood loss, so… Why not? But as tight as how my hand gripped my wrist, I still had a strong grip on my sanity. I tried to call my friends. I was desperate for company, else I… I don’t even want to think crap about it. They didn’t answer at first. I was even more desperate, sobbing their names. But they finally responded. They went straight to my house and comforted me in the most awkward and fun way. I was thankful. I AM thankful. They didn’t know what I was thinking; all they know was that I was incredibly affected. If the state of my thoroughly disarrayed room was enough for them to know that I was hurt, then I guess its fine.
This post is not aimed to destroy you, anything or anyone. I just wanted you to know my thoughts and to learn to choose your words carefully because you never know who you’re throwing it to. I am unstable, I know that now. I wanted you all to know that too. I might appear strong, happy, fun, and amicable, but deep inside and behind closed doors, I am not any of those. I constantly need a companion to make me forget or to make be believe that I am not alone.
I am sorry. I apologize for breaking your rule. But the bottom line is, I did not break your rule with the intention of cheating. I did it because I was worried. Because I wanted to help. If this post will reach you (I am foolishly praying that it won’t), please understand that I am not doing this to make you feel emotions that include guilt, shame, or anger. I just wanted you to know that words are tricky and need to be chosen wisely. You never know how a person will take it. You never even know what will happen next. I am experienced enough to say that anger is the most dangerous emotion of all, because at the end of the day, you never even know what words you said, why you said those words, and how it’ll affect the person you said it to.
I forgive you. But I am sorry, because, unlike you, I will never forget. I can never forget. I will never be able to look at you the same way as before. They say that I should be the one who’ll adjust, but I’m too tired and broken to do so. Just give me some time to think about it. I will follow your advice and not get into your class until I manage to change my ‘angry’ expression (I really did put it into heart, what you said.). But you see, I was born with a RBF. I apologize for that.
To my friends, thank you for the comfort that you gave me in my time of need. But please let this be a lesson as well, I do not want to sound demanding, but please always answer when I call. You are one of the few people that I am holding on to. So please, pull me up when I am falling down. I promise to do the same. Cross my broken heart.
To my family, please do not worry. I will get over this in due time. We already have our own problems back home, and I do not want to add more. I have my friends with me who can understand. But please, do not add more pressure in me as I already have. I love you guys, but I am not the smartest in the family. Do not expect more from me than what I can offer. I promise you that I will do my best. I just need you to promise me to support me in every decision that I will decide and to direct me to the right path. Thank you.
To God, I am sorry. I really am. I have sinned through thoughts. The greatest sin of all. Taking the life that I merely borrowed from You. The life that You blessed me with. I will not make a promise to You, because breaking it will be another added sin. I merely want to assure You that I will do my best to contain myself from these sinful thoughts. Thank You for this life. It’s broken and barely holding on, but still good. Still good. I will take care of it to the outmost of my capabilities; all I ask is for You to never leave my side. Hours ago, I asked You, “What did I do wrong to deserve such confusion and fear and anger and sadness?” Your answer was subtle, almost unrecognizable but still there. This is a lesson for another time. Also, in order to balance once life, there should be equal amounts of sadness and happiness. I am looking forward to the equal amount of happiness that this will lead to. Forgive me and Thank You, Dearest Father.
And to you, dearest reader:
Thank you for your time. Thank you for your patience. I am hoping that you somehow learned a lesson or two. And sorry for the many words, the seemingly endless sentences, and the handful of paragraphs. I am hoping that it was worth your time.

Thank you.