A Dedication🌷

It has been months since the last time I wrote anything worthwhile. To be fair, most of the articles I have written are just me rambling. The trail of articles that I have written was reflective of the feelings that I had while I was dealing with the loss of a loved one. It was angry, bitter and seething.

I have been reflecting since December and even more so as my birthday and Valentine’s approached. It would be the second year that I spent my birthday and Valentine’s without you. It didn’t hurt as much as it did the first time around but that’s maybe because I have come to accept that you are and will no longer be a part of my life.

It’s not because I found someone else. I’m sorry to disappoint but I don’t go looking for rebounds to fill that gaping hole that you left just so that you can justify your looking for one. 😂

Rather, it’s because before I knew it, the world became just as beautiful as it was before you came. Colour crept in and chased the greys away. The world was and is still beautiful.

As cliché as it sounds, my glasses were fogged up and I couldn’t see clearly. Now, though, the colours are more vivid than before. I enjoy listening to music that I used to listen to again with as much gusto and without feeling bad.

I can pass by or visit places that an ex-friend, an ex-lover and I used to be our hang-out spot without having to reminisce or ruminate.

This dedication is not for you or for her but for my future self who I can only hope is as happy or is way happier than I am at the time of this writing.

To close this clumsily written letter,

I’d like to quote the Arctic Monkey’s Love is a Laserquest with a little addition at the beginning,

(Even still) Will I have found a better method
Of pretending you were just some lover?

I hope you are doing well.



A Final Letter (that will never be sent)

Dear ,

I know that I already wrote one congratulating you on your graduation but I did not know that you got a first!

This will be short as I would like to spend my time writing about why I like people like Dalinar.

I never doubted your abilities to get a first. When I said what I said about you, well when I praised your good qualities, I meant it. Never have I met anyone who is responsible, kind, smart, patient and sweet like you. I will surely be damned if I do not at least admit that of all the people I know and had known, you were the best.

It is only recently that I have come to accept that we were never on the same playing field and I should pine no longer and as much as it breaks my heart, there is nothing much I can do about it. We’re just simply worlds apart.

Once again, congratulations and I hope that life will provide you with more exciting opportunities and that life will always be kind to you.



A Eulogy

I just learned yesterday that my aunt died and was cremated in a span of two days from covid-19. She is one of the many casualties brought about by the pandemic as unfortunate as it sounds. Her death was not in defiance of getting a vaccine shot but because of a pre-existing hereditary autoimmune disorder or, disorders. I am unsure of how many conditions she was suffering outside of that one hereditary condition that I know of but she died because she was discouraged to get the vaccine.

Why is this important?

I was supposed to write an essay about why I like people like Dalinar and Jasnah and my view on today’s society but an intermission is needed to give respect to my aunt. As much as I would like to say and make fun of the fact that I experienced two deaths and a breakup over the last three years, I cannot. It is not me, July. It is you. I kid.

(Yes, my grandmother died 2nd of July.)

As a eulogy of some sort, I would like to give a brief speech in honour of my aunt. She was a lovely woman who had all kinds of ailments afflicting her though those never stopped her from going on to living life as best as she could. My aunt was a woman of character and integrity. Although life dealt her a rather poor hand, she worked hard while taking care of her siblings, standing in as a third parent while my grandparents worked the field and as a cook and as a homemaker once field duty is done. I am sure that my mother has learned a lot from her as she was her stewardess, growing up. Having said that, my aunt, as a result, was never able to travel the world as far as I know, and I am pretty sure that the desire is there but even so, she never once moaned about it. I do believe that there is strength in being content and happy with your portion.

In this, I would like to thank her for teaching me how to live contentedly and simply by the way of her lifestyle. She cared for what she had and appreciated, loved and welcomed people to her home. In my memories, I know my aunt to be generous as she gave what she can and she was generous with herself.

Last but not the least, I would like to thank her for encouraging my love for mangoes. You see, my aunt’s husband works as a mango farmer and every summer that my family and I would visit, when those bright and happy, yellow fruits, reminiscent of the sun, are routinely plucked from the trees, he would bring basket loads back to their home. Some baskets were selected to be sold to the market and some baskets were to be distributed among the family.

Whenever we would visit her home, she would whip out her blender and have one of her sons go to the nearby sari-sari store to buy enough ice to fill a standard ice box and cans of condensed and evaporated milk. As we wait for them to return, we would watch as she and my mother cut and scoop out mango flesh while setting aside the middle part which contained the seed. I remember vividly how deftly they would do this while catching up, barely looking down; a mark of how often they used to do this that it has become muscle memory.

Once my cousin comes back with the goods and the container is filled to the brim with a mountain of mango flesh, the ingredients were simply scooped together into the blender. No strict measurements were needed, just enough mango, ice and a ratio of condensed and evaporated milk depending on the people who are going to drink it. Sometimes, the tv is playing in the background but more often than not, the blender whirs with the chirping of cicadas, the clucking of chickens and the chatting of people. It was loud, yes, but there is comfort in the familiar. After what seems like an eternity, you are handed a glass of that beautiful golden, thick drink and all of a sudden, you find respite from the unforgiving heat. I do not know if my memory is serving me wrong but when it comes to my smoothie, she knew how I like my drink on the tarter side.

I finally realise why other countries’ mangoes just do not do it for me and have stayed far from those only until recently upon realising that maybe it is better to eat some than none at all? It is because Philippine mangoes are one of many cornerstones of my childhood and it is undoubtedly tied to summers in Pangasinan, the province of chargrilled milkfish,puto, salt and mangoes – my birthplace.

It has been many years since the last mango smoothie and it has been many years since we last saw and talked with each other in person but know that you will be missed, Auntie Auring.

I pray that wherever you are, you are finally getting some well-deserved rest.



When your year sucks, give yourself 3 years

No one wants to hear a song
About the bitch that broke my heart

Gloomy days remind me of the day we broke up and coincidentally, I heard this song a month before that (wretched) date. More importantly, how is this song so deceptively sweet? If you do not listen to the lyrics carefully, you would think it is a love song.

I love this song because it encapsulates the totality of that rather short-lived relationship, especially these three points. If there was a song about how I fell in love and how we broke up, it would be this song. Ironic, isn’t it?

1. No one wants to hear a song
About the bitch that broke my heart (The same way I should stop writing about it.)

2. I should have listened to my mama
She saw through you from the start (I attribute this line to my dad, he told me that I have more to lose if I were to pursue this relationship wholeheartedly.)

3. I lost more than money, dear
You knocked the swagger out of me (Right on.)

Since I have nothing left to say

That will make you change your mind

I’ll say goodbye on a beautiful spring day

It was a place not too dissimilar to this one

Where I first saw your face

You look like home, sat all alone

I should have found somebody cheaper to chase

Tragically, nobody told me

How expensive you would be

I lost more than money, dear

You knocked the swagger out of me

‘What am I doing with my life?’

That’s a question that I frequently find myself asking before I go to bed every single night and sometimes, during the day. If it were a Sims game, my dissatisfaction levels have broken through the gauge, leaking out of me like gas out of a car.

Sometimes, I think maybe I’m overthinking my life but I digress. Viktor Frankl once said, “A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the ‘why’ for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any how.” I read Viktor Frankl’s book when I was in my third year of university. As an 18-year-old at that time, I vividly remember telling myself that I hope that I do not come to a point where I’m so hopeless that I lose my will to live.

Unfortunately, I have.

It was a mistake to let my someone handle my heart because as I write this, the deep-seated disappointment is just there. I have never been so disappointed in my life that the wind in my sails was taken out.

Six months is not enough and I watched from a YouTube video that three years should be the length of time to see if something will stick or if something will bear fruit. Maybe I’ll find my why again and the answer to the question of why should I keep on living. I don’t know how people survived through this and maybe my cynicism is getting the better of me.

Three years, I hope to come back to this and prove to my desperate 26-year-old who fights to live one day at a time that it’s going to get better. I hope that in three years’ time, I am able to rediscover my why again.

In the meantime, I’ll be reading ‘The Way of Kings’ by Brandon Sanderson.



Daydreams and a Happy Birthday

I love this song so much. It reminds me of the 50s. 😦 It’s a good wedding song to dance to too.

Before anything, I want to greet someone with a happy birthday! It’s still 4 days away but happy birthday regardless.

Ever since I heard this song, my heart has been thumping uncontrollably. Reminders have started popping everywhere and I’m not entirely if it was signalling something or am I being delusional.

How do you stop yourself from being so?

So far, telling myself over and over again, “There is NO WAY that it is going to happen. It would take a miracle and as much as I like to believe that our story is nothing short of one, it’s just impossible. God may be in the business of miracles but I don’t think this is one of them – or at least, I do not want to raise my hopes up.”

I would never fall in love again until I found her

I said, “I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you

It could be with another person but who am I kidding really? I know who I want. It has never really changed and I’m just writing it off as an unfulfilled dream.

While it’s true I’ve spent countless nights crying and I have spent so much time and energy, working on becoming better but you know what? I believe that if we were meant to be, we would see each other again after becoming better people. I would be more cautious but, I’ll give it another shot.

Who knows? But that’s just me. I think this time around, I should wait a year to say I love you back, LMAO.



I’m Taking Back My Heart

Goodbye, I think that was the last word that I also sent many months ago. I am doing my best not to be another David Mitchell and many million others as I know we will never see each other again.

I will eventually get there but unlike what David did, which was walking and working, I am just crossing stuff off of my 100 goals list. It is like a crossword and I must admit, it is pretty fun.

This is the end of the road, this is where we part

You can keep all your memories but I’m taking my heart

I was lured into every word you speak. Yeah when I was young you could tie my tongue and weaken my knees but the lines been drawn and I’m moving on, and another boy will come along so I’m taking back my heart for me.

– Taking Back My Heart – Rusty Clanton (original)
Oh man, I feel old this was part of my early twenties. Haha!

A Ghost

What are the chances of seeing someone again, your ex, after you have parted ways? I don’t know and I don’t want to know but it almost gave me a fright when a man of similar height and build, with wavy almost-curly sandy blond hair peeking out through a black Adidas cap clothed with a non-descript baggy white shirt and black denim shorts that fall just above the knee, passed me by on an escalator going up to Wanchai Computer while I was on my way down.

It was one of the most bizarre encounters yet because I have been seeing people who have a likeness to him but not to that point of resemblance. All I could think about was “Why are here? I’m already going to therapy for PTSD and PTSD-induced anxiety because you left so please don’t come back just to haunt me. Go away, thanks.”

It sounds funny but it’s a horrifying experience – to live in fear of constantly being vigilant so that at the sight of him, I can run away. Laugh all you want at my flight response but I don’t ever want to undergo and relive the experience of the betrayal of him choosing friends and his vices over me. Six, Seven months of just pure hopelessness and endless rumination, what-ifs, what did I do wrong? Am I not good enough? Did I not give enough? Did I not love enough? If it’s because of my financial situation, I’m in a better place now. I told you I’d get out of it, I just needed a little time.

So why?

Like I said before, I’ll probably never know the answer that’s why it’s best to not think about especially since it’s a major trigger and the mere thought of it sends me crying for a solid half-hour and sad for several days.

So please, don’t haunt me. Don’t come back and don’t think of me either. Maybe many, many years into the future but not now;.




Last Song Syndrome

The countdown to my 26th year started when the year turned 2022. I only say this because my birthday is this month and, while I don’t worry about getting older, I felt this dread that I’m turning 26 when New Year’s Eve came

I think I dread this day for two reasons:

1. The last two years were celebrated differently and similar to Christmas and New Year’s, the last two years have been the best so far. Nevertheless, I look forward to what’s going to be unveiled on that day.

2. Believe it or not, I’m scared to know.

If can spend all of my birthday candles in advance, I would wish for time to speed up so that I can get to the point where I’m not carrying a broken heart anymore.