I don’t remember why I wrote these; a collection of drafts that I no longer intend to finish

Strangely, This Terrible World Never Runs Out of Beauty

Sometimes, you will be persuaded to believe that the world has completely lost its beauty. That you are just living amidst the wreckage of a planet which used to be wonderful once upon a time. And everything that is about to come merely means greater remains of this seemingly ceaseless ruination.

But then, those rare moments transpire, as if to pull you back from that belief. As if to hear the world say, ‘look, i am still beautiful’. Those moments take different forms, sometimes disguised even in the most monstrous or in the most mundane of things.

One of those happened to me on a starless night this month. I was in a year-ender event my school had organized. I’ve been to music festivals before but I’ve never really stood in the middle front row of the crowd. But on that night, there I was, exactly in the middle front row, swamped with sweaty bodies and deafening screams. How I ended up there, I can no longer recall. But I have nothing to complain.



Being surrounded with skyscrapers for weeks changes your perspective about the world you live in.

Almost everyday in the past three weeks, I walk along the busy streets of this city, occasionally looking up at the tall buildings or glancing at the many unfamiliar faces of people constantly rushing to somewhere. And always, I would think what a big, big world.

During the first week of my internship, I felt an overwhelming sense of the world’s vastness and the terrifying reality of adulthood. The inner child in me, my curiosity and wonder at things were easily awash with all these matters that came with transition. So for a time, I merely existed as a machine carrying out daily tasks without ever feeling accomplished. Journal blank for weeks, mind empty yet chaotic, soul devoid of anything other than the dullness of life. I wanted so badly to escape. Ha! Here goes my fickle cowardly self again, running away when things turn out to be less interesting than I expected, when things take too slow to be interesting enough.

On the second week of my internship, I took a day off to apply for another company which I expected to be a lot more fun than the one I am currently interning with. Funny enough, this company turned out to be a little less interesting than the current one I am in. What happened?, I thought. These companies were the ones I’ve prayed for, in the hopes that they would bring me closer to my dream job (which means it’s supposed to not feel like one at all). As I was waiting to cross the street of that yet another busy city, I looked up at the tall buildings. They almost blocked the view of the skies. I sighed heavily. I felt stuck. A train of thought. Is this a preview of what’s to come? Is my life going to be just like this? This meaning a series of dreams and disappointments upon realization of such.

I returned to my current company the next day as a machine again. And more days passed, I continued to exist in that manner. What an arduous way to live.

Dream: 7.17

Many times in the past years, I have woken up from strange dreams that I feel,

Basta Sabi ni Shiloh Ako ang Best Friend Niya

Nasan na ba yung mga kaibigan ko, sabi ko sa isip ko. Parang lahat sila busy, o may ibang kausap. Hindi naman sa selfish ako, well siguro medyo, pero nandito lang ako sa phase ng buhay ko na ang dami kong namimiss.


a conversation about the moon

I told him of when I was younger, how I thought the moon always followed me as I walked and looked at it. He said that’s what his younger self believed, too. I talked about how I used to stare at it and think that daytime was swallowed by the moon at night, reason for its splendor. Day skies hid itself in the innermost part of the moon. And days were reborn, ran freely in the horizons, or spat out by the moon come morning. It didn’t really make sense, but he found it interesting. He said that the moon could be a place to preserve the day’s memories. Whenever a person felt sad at night, s/he only needed to look at the moon to remind her/him of the day’s joy. I wanted to ask my friend: what if a person never had a happy moment in a day? I didn’t ask, anyway. It felt too heavy for the inner children in us then.

But tonight, the answer comes to me: he will look for the moon, but he will not find it.


written on April 29, 2016

And so I heard about you again. It’s strange how the sound of your name almost feels foreign to me now when this time last year, it was my most used, most favorite word. Memories, real and self-crafted, flood in; I find myself wanting to retrace my way back into that sea of strangers where we first and last met. But I have come so far, walking miles and miles, for me to just return again. I did it, you see. I am far from you now. You have become just a distant memory, like an old tale from centuries ago that others talk so seldom about and to which I respond by thinking, “Oh, I remember that” and nothing more. Today, you are here again, standing behind me from afar, calling out my name. I hear your voice louder. I turn around and look at you, but only for a brief moment. I smile, turn back and then continue to walk forward.