Here we are

At 1:58am as I was going over all the crazy things that happened this year - the cruelness and the magic, how they perfectly blended into one insane year, I find it impossible to write everything in detail, all I can ever do is recall feelings, and those things are difficult to impart. I will try.

On finding Love

I started this year as a mad Maria Clara, writing for a boy that doesn’t even count anymore, or so I thought. I’m giving him all the kindness I could’ve given him at the start of this year. But then again, I don’t regret anything. Maybe, he's not worth it or the other way around. Nonetheless, whatever he felt, I just wished I could’ve told him that he matter. When I write about people they really matter, whatever the context they're may be in.

I brought that up because, people told me that this was a good year to find love. I was excited enough to prove it, though how badly desperate it sounded. Whenever I tell my closest friends about my sexuality, the most common thing they say to me is to get a boyfriend to test it. As if, getting into a relationship is an answer and as if, I still don't know what my preference is. 

I believe in the genuineness of love so much, that it bothers me how could people easily fall prey to the surfaces. Where is substance and rawness? The love that is with conversations, the randomness of the things you do out of love even without noticing it. You see, I'm not a fan of formality. I want connection more than the cheese. When they told me about getting love (or shall we say, getting into a romantic relationship) this year, I've always looked for it in the obvious places. But, love this year took a different form, it wasn't through a romantic relationship. It was in my grit, my dreams, and new friendships I never knew will exist. I've felt it because pain didn't matter. 

Don't forget this girl

There's a perfect meme for every heartbreaks, a hugot perhaps, or a button poetry. Things millennials, like me, would divulge in. Romanticizing stuff, the korean dramas way, or  by lang leav's language. We could always pretend to relate to the songs of Quest's Walang Hanggan or Ang Bandang Shirley's Siberia and Maginhawa. As if. As if, the pain sprouted from an indie film. We will call it:"Sana ganito ang nangyari."

Then here's this girl, seeing all those things revolving around her. People moving at a fast-paced and she was in slow-mo.  A mere spectator of the feels she's not familiar of, but she chose to feel it, anyway. How do you put a meme to someone like her?

When her only heartbreak was not graduating on time, and the uncertainties that goes with it. Or, the fact that she's scared of being forgotten by the same people who believed in her. Or, that she couldn't fit with anybody at all. Everyone is moving forward - how can she? We all needed a meme, somehow. Touching the wound without getting hurt - to an unlabeled heartbreak.

I was hoping there was a certain song for how she feels. An indie film about the stories of the roads she didn't take, or the one she is traversing. I hope there is an ode to her longing - the best friends who went ahead of her. A Lang Leav prose called: "The could've beens." I wish there is a fight for oblivion; something that she so feared.

Don't forget her. Even when the spaces between you and her are getting wider. Even when she couldn't hold your hands anymore. (Even when she withdraws from the powerpuff girls). Even when she decides to keep quiet. Even when the sparks are no longer there.

Don't forget this girl. Even when you are walking at a fast-paced and she is still a spectator. When you meet her at the road, tell her not to give up. I'm afraid, it has become her habit. Tell her, you hope to see her as you wait at the end of the road. That is what she needs to hear.

Nothing terrifies her more, than losing the people she love the most.

Someday, she will finally move forward. You must not forget this girl. As if, she was from your favorite indie film. Relevant and unforgettable.

That girl, in perfect timing, will write her own story. In slow-mo. In slow-mo.

It's still painful to write this, without getting scared of uncertainties and broken promises. But, someone must.

I will call it: "Nangyari na." Then, there'd be a perfect meme for her own heartbreak, a hugot perhaps, or a button poetry.



Don't forget this girl. (Albeit, the "three letters" are long overdue)



Love, Patricia


P.S. She remembers

Series I've seen (while in my own depression)

I am back (for the meantime)!!!! 

Today, I want to write about other things aside from love and acads. I am well aware that my blog is boring. Let's not forget the fact that I'm currently lacking in photos. Wait lang mga bes! I’ll have another hiatus for 6 months. I will finish some shitty things in my life first. Then I will finally write exciting things.  I just don’t have the focus yettt and the money and the time and what have yeeew. 

Sometimes, I get really dumb and I can’t figure shits out. I am also finding it strenuous to write, lately. It’s like everything that I write has NO HOPE IN IT. It’s like: "bleh, put this girl back in highschool," that kind of stuff, that kind of self-pitying monster whore.

Anyway enough of the small talk. Last March I got into a really awful depression. A depression I couldn’t write yet. Uhuh! I think I am suffering from a mild depression, which involves eating too much carbs. ANNNNND, watching too much Netflix, hihi yes I have an unlimited access to Netflix thanks to my sister for letting me steal her account LOL.

I fell in love once

I fell in love once with someone who smoke rather too much

I didn't bother
I doodled my love on our classroom board,
I told everyone "I smoked last night."
I was hoping he will notice
I was 16 then
Stupid girl
He was in love with someone else,
His mom died of cancer


I fell in love once, with someone who looks like art 

I didn't bother
I bought new dresses and tried to look pretty as he is
I was hoping he will notice
I was 18 then
Pretty, but still stupid
He was Gay


I fell in love once, with someone who spends a lot of his time at the library

I didn't bother
I sat for hours at the library writing poems about unrequited love,
I sent it to some websites, and one got published
I was hoping he will notice
I was 19 then
The girl with unrequited love
Still a stupid girl
He went out with the girl who never went to the library


I fell in love once, with someone whom I have known beyond the gender

I didn't bother
"Blue is the warmest color," they said.
I started going for an all out rainbow pride,
and stayed up late at night talking to her
I was hoping she will notice
I was still 19
A little confused and still stupid
Rumors came and she became the nasty 3rd party to a relationship that ended


I fell in love once, with someone whom I have never thought I'd be in love with

I didn't bother
She is still a 'she' and my closest friend,
We drank too much, then tried to be sober at 5am
I've seen her soul in perfect color
I was hoping that she noticed
I was 21 then
Depressed and still stupid
She told me, "you are not Gay", and that all I needed is a best friend to feel less lonely
To which I agreed
Stupid Girl
She kissed me good bye and I've never felt so lonely, before


I fell in love once with this boy who have read my writings

I didn't bother
I tried writing better, although I svck a lot
He still called me, "the best"
I was 20 then
But, I met him again at a drinking bar at 22,
He put his arm around my shoulders
And I felt anger rather than love
I was hoping he will notice
Stupid Girl
He's not the same boy who've read my writings


I fell in love once, but never again
Some truths disjointed

As I sit in this dark room,
I try to go over how it all happened,
Why I felt, what I felt?
And how I will be able to get them out?


I am still stupid

How long will I sit here, until I'd finally be able to say, "I am truly in love with you" and you are too?

Would you still believe in true love when at 60 your parents are not in love anymore?


I stopped waiting, long ago. I closed the doors for what is true. This isn't me writing to you

I fell in love "once" and never again
I try not to feel
I hid them all


When I love, I don't love like this.
It's a loud silence, echoing throughout the universe, until you get to finally hear my voice

At 4am, I wrote a prose called "I fell in love once"; and I always picture myself falling in love like this.

But, I never did.

I didn't bother


Stupid girl

An open letter to my classmates

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I’ve been meaning to write a letter, or I guess I’ve been trying to. I have so much feels for the past few days, like my soul was held captive by the universe. But the words seem to slip away, and comes back during midnights when I am already free to cry. I will never apologize for being cheesy, what are feb 14s for?

I chose to write this letter to you not just because I wanted to inspire or tell you some shit about my life, but also because I want to help myself. I hope this will reach you – like arms stretching, able to hug you; Everything will be alright, bessy.

You are tired. I know, although I am always in denial, I am too. You are not alone. My soul is yearning for something that I couldn’t understand. I just wanted to put my life back together again – but I am already tired of trying and seeing it disjointed once more.

Everglow - Coldplay

I'm not an easy girl

An open letter to the boy who thinks I’m an easy girl

Dear you,

As a kid, I’ve already had an idea of my own prince charming. I’ve been adept to reading fairytales; I grew up believing that each of us have our own stories. My friends in high school would even tag me as “The hopeless romantic”. As a chronic storyteller of made up love stories, I’ve already had perfect images of how I’ll be able to meet my one true love and what we’ll be like. Of course, these ideologies stopped when I started meeting new people and I began to rationalize things like a mature person. Right now, I’m trying to pretend that I puke over the word “fairy tale”.

It’s always a cliché to say that, “I’m not like most girls”, all of us claimed to be, everyone wanted to be different, unique and desirable – hippie isn’t hippie, anymore. However, what people failed to realize was that I’m not like most girls, because I haven’t yet understood what kind of “girl” I am. A non-conformist, conforming to some conformed standards? Isn’t that confusing?

2016

2016

The year that taught me not to give a shit, and I'm still not going to give it.

This letter

Lol is this even a letter?

Idk if prose or poem
or a confession, somehow.

With disjointed sentences
like my days with you

Whatever.

I'm writing it now with revel and angst - the emotional combo of 2016.

A year composed mostly of all-nighters, sugar coated by dreams and desires - it's going to be worth it, they said

Fvck everyone

It was beer nights,
coupled w failed marks
Unexpected friendships
And love affair
Drunk in tequila shots
falling in love w bestfriends,
Still drowning in beer bottles

Damn the 5am kisses,
Convos at sunrise

The emojis couldn't even handle it.

2016 - a cruel year in hell

Yet, it wasn't how hell was supposed to be

The night was as bright as the daylight

The singing birds were chirping even after twilight

Laughing off tragedies as if it were the grandest jokes.

Unknowingly in love with the horros of hell

We all are.

Goddamnit!

12 months of extremity

Then, we found ourselves one day, looking up at the heavens, thinking what is it for us up there?

I saw the look on our faces, "shit we're screwed"

Knees touching,
Hands holding,
A kiss on the cheeks or on the lips
Troubles and jealousy
Crying and hugging
I fvcking hate the cheesiness of it.

I couldn't
I shouldn't

But, I wanted to go back to it all.

It's ending;

The feels of 4am drunk texts or the 4am call time of study periods

My feelings for you, will be gone soon. Things will never happen the same way twice.

All along I was thinking,
I hate 2016
Yet, I felt it more
When I have loved you

New year comes,
and we'll bid goodbye -

It was a happy year,
but I'm still not sure what kind

Hands trembling,
Hearts beating

"I love you, 2016."

But, we weren't meant to be.

Thank you for the feels.

Love,
Anna

The Story of Wil and Van

To my dearest friend,

As  I sat down inside a coffee shop, I can't help but stare outside the glass panel on a rainy afternoon; kind of feeling sleepy and melancholic - my normal mood when I am about to begin writing another sappy love letter. This time, I'm not going to write about you, I suddenly thought of telling you a story instead. It is about these two strange lovers that I got to know in one of my classes. They became one of my closest acquaintances. When I met them, my first impression was that they seem to be happy and perfect, smiling close together, hand in hand, like they came out from a Nicholas Sparks' book. It is such a perplexing thing to have witness something that will both make me feel pain and happiness at the same time. They "seemed" to be.

Did I say "Merry Christmas"?

So here I am at exactly 1:50 a.m. writing this down on my note, with a coffee-induced brain, supposedly meant for studying, but instead chose to be eaten by millennial angst; listening to Wolf saga and some cool indie pop rock to make me sound smart, but is actually just listening to some mainstream party music with high beats, and I'll write as if you care.

I'm beginning to get tired with my (boring and lousy) life. Lol kidding (but half-meant). I'm getting really sleepy, not sure whether I want to cry, sleep or continue studying. I just need to post my Christmas Wishlist 2016 as quick as how the time flies. I can still clearly remember my wishlist last year, which I would (if I'm not too showbizzzz) want to recycle again, lol I obviously didn't get most of those stuff. Even so, I'd still write another list for this year, just like how I constantly crave or want for some things that aren't meant for me (say whaaaat?); of course, this list was written by my demanding, conceited and bratty side. Cause: Accounting, Effect: Indignation. Damn. I've never described myself in real life as accurate as that one.

Drum roll, please.

I am alive - JJ Lin ft. Jason Mraz

I'm sharing this song from my very first college graduation. I didn't like it so much back then, but it gives me the feels now. I hope you'll be inspired by the message of the song. 

Stay brave, Patricia

Hashtag: GP

Dear you,

For the past few days, all I've ever done at home (aside from my daily chores) was to crumple papers, strike out words and phrases, ultimately throwing them in the bin. Let me just simply say this, I was having a hard time writing a new letter. Those that have been thrown out, they all feel so boring or if not, bland. They didn’t come with goosebumps nor do they make me feel anything at all. I don’t know. Maybe, they are reflections of what I’m becoming – no depths.

In any case, let this girl write once more on blank sheets of paper, writing through pencils and bad handwriting (while listening to Ed Sheeran’s I see fire), despite the rustiness of words written, notwithstanding the disjointed paragraphs and sentences – almost like seeing through her disassembled soul. I hope that you read it. Later on, you’d find out that this letter is meant only to know which is better on days when you refuse to feel anything:  A cup of coffee or a bottle of beer.

I know that you wouldn’t care, and that maybe you got a life of your own; a much happy place to be. I would not interfere, cut this out, please don’t read this anymore. But if you’re willing to let me hold you for a little while, then here’s to knowing what I don’t know. I don’t know what our life would be after the post script. How will it turn out, years, months and weeks from now? It gets scarier. I’ve never seen myself tremble to something that is not happening yet. I guess I just have to go through it, be more lost, searching for unreliable sources of happiness and temporary hands to hold, just like yours.

Tadhana

Dear Bes, 

Hindi ko ginusto na sulatan ka sa wikang tagalog, hindi ako magaling dito, sa katunayan ang marka ko nga sa subject na "Filipino" nang nagaaral pa lang ako sa elementarya at highschool, ay hindi lumalagpas sa 90. Pagtungtung ko naman ng colegio, aba tinalo pa ng accounting ang grade ko dito akalain mong  sa accounting naka- B ako, sa filipino C- Hahahah. Huwag ka ng umasang maganda tong isusulat ko tungkol sa'yo. Nagsimula ako sa ingles, pero pakiramdam ko'y boring na para sa'yo ang mga ganun. Delete, delete, magpapaka-Mama Jack na lang ako, since dun ka naman masaya. Taglish! Pak ganern! 

Sabi nga ni Janina San Miguel "Eto! Ha ha ha", 

Hindi ko magets ang point, kung bakit ngayon lang kita susulatan ng ganito eh halos limang taon na tayong magkaibigan, siguro kasi marami tayo, iilan lang ang mga talagang nagiging malapit. Pero, alam mo naman na siguro na sa simula palang, first year college tayo, crush na crush na talaga kita kasi natatalinuhan ako sa'yo, maganda ka pa, ang unfair lang ni Lord, at take note, hindi ko pa alam kung anong ibig iparating ng LGBT movement noon, straight na straight pa ako noon girl, pero syempre hanggang ngayon rin, medyo shaky lang ng konti ang sexuality ni te. Ayan, mag-eemo naman ako para makarating na tayo sa puntong iiyak ka na, charrr! 

Nagsimula itong sem na ito, na ang saya-saya ko, ang dami kong imagination, excited ako at kinakabahan, ineexpect ko na rin na pagpasok ko palang sa classroom, eh ikaw na ang bubungad saakin, at hindi naman ako nagkamali. Sabi ko pa nga sa sarili ko, may plano ang Dios kung bakit ka bumagsak last semester (kahit malungkot ako nang malaman ko yun), at ako naman ay pumasa sa mahirap kong subject na akala ko'y wala ng punto ang pagBSA. Ayan, pinagsabay tayo ni Lord, kasi nga miss ko na rin yung iba nating friends. Ito na yung sign! Nagaral ako ng husto, di ako nagfacebook ng isang buwan. Alam kong, handang-handa ako sa magaganap na iyakan.

Tolerable Deviation Rate

Dear Earl and Ann (lol since you wanted to be extras, okay then hahahah kidding),

I don't know how to start this letter, I've been finding the exact words to say since the start of this month. I honestly have 5 drafts for this, one on my phone and the other on my ipad and the rest is on my computer. But ended up throwing them all in the trash, I wish I'd finally be able to finish this letter today before my feelings start to change again. 

You know how Charlie in perks of being a wallflower said the words, "And in that moment. I swear we were infinite". It was hard for me to internalize how Charlie felt while reading the book, not until, at midnight upon going home after the celebration of my birthday eve this year, that I finally felt more like Charlie. Right then, I said to myself, "Welcome back, Anna". It has been months since I haven't had a really good laugh at life, often times I've been crying myself to sleep, thinking about the stresses of school and how it collides with my own dreams (of course, I didn't share so much about my sadness, because I understand that this is a battle I need to fight on my own), I also had so much setbacks from some of my friends, I have no idea how everything fell apart with us, maybe it was the circumstances, expectations, or me. I should've never given my whole heart to them and instead, have given it more to the people who care - I could've given the same to you, but I'm all out of it when we started knowing each other. I'm almost giving up with life; I had nights I was wishing I could just melt into sadness and be gone for good. A melancholic life for a wanna-be writer, a perfect combo. And, just when I thought my world is collapsing, I met you. It was a sudden moment, one that is indescribable, I could not even write the exact word for it. Slow mo - one afternoon, we decided to sit beside each other at a room filled with serious people, whose life depended on their studies, we started to make noise and suddenly, it wasn't so serious anymore. In that moment I swear we were infinite.

Just like love, I don't know how to define happiness. I guess, they were never really meant to be defined, you just feel it. You enjoy the feeling and it's almost like touching your whole life. This is it. This is the 'someday' we've been waiting for; One in which even in the midst of distress, worry and fear, you just hold their hands and everything is 'okay'.

I'm afraid of being away from you, I don't know if I'm just feeling 'gay', or that I've grown fond of those people who chose to hug me despite not hugging them back. The other night before the quiz on auditing theory, I asked myself the question: "What is your tolerable deviation rate from people?" Did I set my rate too high or too low? I don't know how much would it sadden me if a month from now, everything will be different again. I don't know if we'd still feel the same about each other or that you'd still be willing to hug me so tight that it became harder for me to breathe, "Yes, anna, I will never ever miss you", but it took a while before you let me breathe, freely. I will not miss you as well, so goddamn well. How am I supposed to deal with people, who will point fingers at me no matter what I do? Who will be able to come with me when I need a fvcking beer in my svcky life? Who will push me to get a love life to someone I barely even know? (not that this matters, but thank you) Who will stand by me through failures and heartaches over quizzes and exams? New friends. A deviation from this kind of happiness that I feel. Yes, you weren't my high school friends, my closest and the best, we formed this bond months ago and not necessarily the most trustworthy and strong. Yet, I get a little tingling in my heart, whenever I imagine our goodbyes. I once, told myself that my tolerable deviation rate is too high, "Nigga I don't worry too much", but maybe I got it wrong, for I set it too low, but was so afraid to proceed with a more extensive substantive tests. Even so, I'd still report an unqualified opinion - this is it.

To Ann, Earl (Ew so cheesy!) and to the rest of the people who are always with me at the study room, maybe all of us were bound not to be very expressive in real life (away from this kind of love letter from sweeteranna), our friendship, they were mostly laughing at ourselves, our imperfections, we deal with sadness by joking around and making other people laugh. I don't know why we just happen to hang out recently, we were blockmates in first year college for God's sake! Maybe, this was God telling us, "Guys, you are not alone in your battle, I will give you the people of study room and you will all drink to good times and bad times together, and that is how you will survive prereview", if that is, I'm forever grateful to God.

Before writing this last draft, I've been planning to write about my birthday celeb, but I just decided to dedicate this letter to those people who fill the gaps of a lonely girl, and what is more astonishing to write than the euphoria I feel inside?

With my shoes readied, I'll stand on the bench at a roof top with the view of the city lights, and would gladly shout, "It's my birthday today!!!"

September 9, 2016 at 4:00am: So I came home tonight, thinking about how we've always searched for happiness, for something that is magical, like in the story books; not knowing, that there are certain kind of happiness hiding beneath all our dramas, behind closed doors, failures and setbacks. There are certain kind of happiness, in deciding to close doors for some people, cutting some friendships and forming new ones, missing someone who is standing right in front of us, to stressful school stuff, there are certain kind of happiness that blossoms during our darkest days and the unexpected moments. I want to live this moment, again. Welcome back, Anna.

I, once again, want to give this heart, fully. Even for a little while, like this semester.  


Truly yours,
Anna

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.”  -Charlie, Perks of Being a Wallflower

P.S. Pictures are coming soon! HAHA
P.P.S This will be "Sepanx" anytime soon

The Stories of August

Hello,

I have a confession to make, or a question rather, would the world still accepts me if I chose to lay in bed literally the whole day, doing absolutely nothing? I am so guilty. I should've read something from my school books or did some productive thing; like washing the laundry, cleaning my room or basically, watching a new movie. Instead, I decided to lay in bed, stalking people, chatting nonsense to people or scrolling on social media sites. Would the world still love me? would you? But, why do I even care? and why would you even care?

The other day, I had this icky feeling of discouragement. I woke up in the morning, thinking about whatever the great things are in mornings, reacting to nothingness. It's such a bad thought, which I happen to brush off out of my head immediately. Although, it was never really gone, internally. Right then, I realized some people would say, they want to die but the truth is they just wanted to live. I wanted to live, of course.

The stories of August, they were extremes. It's like, one morning, you'd wake up happy, giddy and excited. Then you will go home; tired, hopeless and unable to breathe. Some days, they were consistent, you wake up still sleepy, you go home still sleepy. There were happy moments, but never consistent happy days. Not that I'm complaining, it just sort of how my life goes right now. I'm writing this letter at 2am, my mom is still awake and she happens to be watching a horror film, and I'm beginning to get scared, instead of feeling sappy.

(Alright,)

It's so ideal to become someone so great that people wanted to be you. They'd fight for you, care for you, check you out and go grab pizza with you even if it's late. The Kendall effect. The Celebrated. Most of us have probably wanted to be as gorgeous as Liza Soberano or as handsome as Zac Efron, convincing our selves, life wouldn't be this hard if we were them. I'm such a hypocrite, if I never envisage this idea. I, too, would want to be as pretty as Kendall Jenner and Liza Soberano. I thought, maybe if I look exactly like them, someone would share pizza with me at this hour, or call me up even when it's late. Which reminds me, it's almost 4 am and I'm not yet done with this letter. I can already hear birds chirping. Today, I'm not wishing to become Liza Soberano, I'm not wishing to be someone else. I don't even wish for someone to go grab pizza with me at this hour (although, it's so cool, if someone would), all I wanted was to get out of this laziness - to find purpose in something new. To be found. I wanted to be smart, to write better, to dream higher, to reach them all and be stronger. I want to grab all these things even when they all seem so impossible. I don't want to be pretty. All I wanted was to be beautiful. The kind of beautiful, people would rather think about instead of talk about. Yet, here I am wallowing in self pity, like things would be better if I cry myself to sleep. Stupid. 

Don't you just want to punch me on the face, and tell myself, "your drama is eating you alive!". I wouldn't be surprised, if one day, someone will (with hulk). I wrote this letter to make myself feel better, and it always work. (I'm not quite happy about the horror film my mom is watching. I couldn't concentrate. Goodness). 

August. Sad things, really do happen in August. Remember my story about the lost stickers? Aside from that, this was also the month, I lost my best friend; the month where I began having a crush on a girl back in fourth grade and the only way to get her attention was to write her a hate letter (hahaha weirdo), the result was also an epic hate battle. Drama always happen in August for Anna. But, for some strange reason, this month have brought me to great stories worth sharing to. On August 2016, I started failing my classes, and started acting like I'm gonna die if I will not pass the last semester of my college life. I trust that one day, a year later or the next year after that, I'd be laughing my ass off, thinking about the way I wanted so bad to be pretty like Liza Soberano or how ugly I cry over school stuff, and how bad I wrote this letter. 

I hope, one day, I'd finally be able to wake up with so much optimism again, with light in my eyes, ready to conquer the world. I hope one day, I'd write better things, tell better stories, inspire more people. To love myself and love the things I don't happen to like, right now. I'd like to wake up one morning feeling excited and ending the day, fulfilled - Beautiful.

I'm so certain, it will happen. I will make it so. 

You should too.

Love,
Patricia


P.S. If you are wondering, where I get these amazing photographs on my blog. I get them at unsplash, they are all free to use. ;)

The First Letter I wrote for you

“Someday you’re gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You’ll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing.”

–Eat, Pray, Love (Elizabeth Gilbert)

Dear you,

Rarely do people see the bright side during the dark days. Before, I thought everything was composed of magic, rainbows and dancing sun. It is during the dark days that I get to see things clearly and differently, I get to surprise myself by doing things I never thought I could – this means much more to me, than quantifying my whole life by my average school standing. Although, at times I see myself crying inside a closed bathroom door, or on my bed beside scattered school papers. I still get to wake up with hopeful smiles and positive day dreams. But, that was before.

Today, I couldn’t even distinguish sadness, loneliness and happiness anymore, maybe I was just tired or that I had enough. I don’t know. Sometimes, I refuse feeling anything at all. It’s already a self-destructive habit. I still opt to continue what I was doing despite feeling like my whole life will just be this monotonous; failures after failures. Some people want me to believe I am almost to succeed, I hope they are right. Albeit, I just want this to end.

I originally planned on writing this as my first love letter to you. But, I began to wonder whether “love” is an appropriate term. It’s been a long time since I felt butterflies. I sense a cocoon inside the bones of this burning desire to write about love amidst pain and grieving. They don’t always go together, but when they do, it’s “chaos” while trying to fix what was once broken. I don’t mean to sound uber cheesy. I hope you’ll understand.

At the first time I met you, I smiled and thought to myself you are the brains I never had, the ghost among my hollowed pasts of loving people out of reach and ends up loving unrequitedly (if there's such a term). However, I’ve already stopped chasing people. I got tired of it – trying to give so much to people who don’t even give a damn about me. Right now, I’m actually trying to chase my dreams. When I try to think about it, aren’t I supposed to be excited? Yet, I’m more excited running away and seeing you, holding my hand and shouting, “Jump!” I miss feeling real things and real people. I miss conversations over beer and pizza. I miss my best friends, the other day I want to buy myself a bus ticket just to see them, and wrote a made up text message, “Haha bitches! I’m coming”. It’s been a really long time since I saw and hugged them. I thought, long distance relationships are just for lovers, but I guess I was wrong. I want to say to them, “I wouldn’t be disappointed anymore during graduation. I made it”. It’s sad to think, I’m too far away from making that happen. I want to believe, I still have my chance, but nevertheless, expecting the worse. As much as I want to feel all these butterflies again, I couldn’t, because sadness overpowers it all. I’m not the girl you are supposed to love, right now.

I now fully understand why not everyone sees the bright side during the dark days. It is at this moment, that we thought we are all out of purpose and out of love. The universe is against us, our life is about to end, there is no room for a dancing sun, anymore. It is painful and depressing, until someone steps right in and save you. I believe in saviors who bring light to your life. But, I believe more in a savior that is within us. So, please try not to save me, but if I am able to wash away the darkness successfully, I’m hoping you’ll be there for me to congratulate. I wish you’ll love me just the same. And if it’s alright, I want to fall in love with you too, and be able to say together, “Jump!”

But not today, not right now.

Love, Patricia

P.S. I’m still fighting

Relevant Costing

I think this is a grave sin to be writing amidst heavy quizzes and pre-boards. I was just testing whether I could still write (and feel). Despite it, I am glad that I have finally made my own strategy to study these past few days, I can finally say I am kind of adjusted, and I pray to God this will work really well. I am excited for this to be over. No, "excited" is an understatement. I am thrilled and galvanized!

I am writing you a letter because I am still quite heart broken by my low score on one of my favorite subjects. I didn't expect it, it still bothers me until now. Well, that is one of my major weaknesses, I am very slow to move on. I hold grudges for too long and sometimes, it becomes self destructive. When you are in love with something and it failed you, what would you feel? How much does it hurt to know that you aren't loved back? Or you weren't given the same level of love you gave? To me, it's easy to say; I got used to it. I've always been an option rather than a priority. Someone would have loved me but only for a short while, when they found someone better, they'd eventually leave without even saying the reason why. I try to be mature about it, I understand their necessity to choose the other over me. That's always okay for me, because to think, who am I really? Who am I for someone to pick me when better flowers grow around me. I am not divulging  in self-pity, I am trying to narrate this story as honest as possible. When I try to voice it and be somehow relevant, there would always be someone who will debunked my relevance, the sad thing is I never fight or when I do, I never win.

When all along, I just wanted to be defined by my passion, courage and love. Now, I'm deeply defined by my school standing, when they could've seen the greater part of me. The part of me who, despite the setbacks from the past, was able to come this far when nobody ever believed I could do it. Some would say, this is the whining of a girl who weren't able to stand-out or have good grades, no matter how she tries. True. If I were an over-achiever as my siblings, I would've written you a letter with grammar admirable, not like this. Also true, I am a whiner.

Sometimes, I have thoughts of quitting, to give this up, to pick the easy choice, to turn my back and never return. Why couldn't I just run away from all these hasty dramas and pretensions? It would've been easier for my heart. No more pain, no more late nights crying, no more hatred. It's something that I am certain, I can do. But, I didn't and would never.

Despite being labeled as an average girl, with over-achiever sisters, I also want to prove that I am not what everybody think, or better yet, what I think I am. I'm made up of dreams, bravery and sparks. Who would've thought so? Once upon a time, a girl from the slums who weren't as bright as everyone else, would ultimately be standing this far. It's not by mere intelligence or skill, I always believe it was miracles and luck that put me here. And, it will also be miracles and luck that will put me outta here. Fate. Why would I turn back and run away, when this story is about to end? Albeit, I don't believe much on destiny before, but lately  it's all that I am holding on to. I will not leave the pages blank. So, despite feeling alone with no one to miss or vice versa, when I have nobody to share my tears at night (and not that it is of importance). I want to believe this is all part of my story. I want to still look up to God, the universe and to the magic of this world; I was born to be relevant. But, not in the manner, people expects relevant people to be - and that would always be fine.

My dear friend, I can't wait to get out of this cage. To finally be able to finish this story with a happy ending, to let everyone know, I am invincible even through failures and mistakes. This will all be over soon and I tell you, this will end great, for nothing great comes easy. I am thrilled and galvanized!


Thank you for reading. I wrote this on my phone during class. I'm hoping you're okay.



Love,
Patricia

When the universe speaks to you

I once dreamt of being brought in front of a tree with golden apples. Someone was holding my left hand tightly, I couldn’t let go. “Look up! Look up! See the apples!” I wouldn’t dare to look up, for I was too scared to know what was up. “Just look up!” the voice told me impatiently. I want to let go, run away, but I am stuck with this person. Having no choice, I looked up and saw bright shimmering golden apples. I was appalled and I couldn’t believe what I saw. However, that was also the moment when the voice suddenly disappeared and immediately freed my hand. She vanished into thin air. I tried to look for her, I shouted but she never came back. I never saw her face. I woke up panting.

That was how the universe spoke to me. 

Just look up. I always believe that there are already stories written for us, even before we were born. Fate, as they call it, and because I’m quite conceited, I want to believe I am bound for something big in my life. In my younger years, I thought I was. But lately, I started thinking otherwise. 

I’m not being pessimistic; I’m just trying to be realistic. There’s a difference. I wouldn’t say, my world fell apart that’s why I’m already thinking this way. No. Apparently, my world is still the world I live in ever since I was born. It never fell apart. I just grew up and suddenly thought, “Wow, this world doesn’t revolve around me”. I don’t live in movies and fairytales, with dramas and romance. I live in a world where my crush doesn’t even know me, or my seatmate is prettier than me. I live in a world, where I fail at the beginning and I still fail at the end. This is a world, where I might get killed any time and .00005 people of this planet would attend my funeral, I’m both meaningless and lifeless. There would be no closing red curtains, fireworks, impeccable soundtrack and happy ending banner at the end. In short, I live in a world where people hopes for their life to be somehow different than the rest, but end up being what mostly are.

Admit it. I somehow, broke your dreams and life goals. In truth, I broke mine. I still want to believe that there’s a reason why things should happen and why we feel certain things at the moment? I want to make sure that there’s still hope despite being more and more cynical each passing day. Honestly, I am not afraid of my world falling apart; I am more scared of my life becoming meaningless as time goes by. This was when the universe spoke to me, and she spoke out of misery. She’ll let you suffer, she’ll hold you so tight you couldn’t let go, she will scare you, she will make you feel useless and you just want to quit. Then, on that spur of the moment just when you’re about to give up and walk away, she’ll let you look up and see bright shimmering apples. 

I still want to believe in fate and that all of us are bound for something great in life. Thinking about this makes me want to live a little longer, to wait for a miracle, to wait for this greatness to come. However, this was when I realized; I shouldn’t just sit around, wait and pretend things are going to be okay soon. I have to be my own miracle. I have to be the miracle. I am the miracle. I will continue to be one. If I want to believe in miracles, I should also believe in myself, despite my lack of intellect, as compared to others who were born with stars as their birth mark. I was born with a cross to carry, and I don’t know how long Via Dolorosa is, but this too shall pass. As fate suggests, we already have stories written for us. But to me, my story has yet to be written. The universe is already conspiring. I can already feel someone holding my left hand tightly, and we are close to that tree with bright shimmering golden apples. I just have to look up, when the right time comes. I hope there will be fireworks. 

When the universe speaks to you, you'll never know it's the universe. Look up! Look up!

I'm still here,

Patricia

Fashion in Movies: How to Be Single

I'll admit it, I'm still victimized by fashion! I'm kind of diverting my attention to some things, but I couldn't help it, fashion always gets in my way and boom, I have this certain insane fantasies again. 

Have you ever experienced walking through the whole Ayala Avenue, Ph? Too many buildings will eat you alive! Haha But that's not my point of asking it, the thing is I've already experienced traversing those streets in Makati Business District (The NY wall street of the PH) at a rush hour, when everyone is walking with their briefcases, coats, stilettos and other sorts of corporate attire. Others meanwhile, are just walking around from a shopping spree at greenbelt! I've been converted into some sort of lunatic, who imagined herself to be one of them. Ah! The fashion is superb, classy overloaded! The connection of this to my blog post is......... HAHA nothing! Kidding

I recently watched this movie, recommended by a close friend, I'm not so much of a movie buff and not really a nazi on judging movies, but I do like Romantic-Comedy Genres orrr British Indie Films. Some of my friends are fond of watching old films circa 50s-80s, which is kind of cool, but I'm not that very interested in it, although I love Audrey Hepburn films !!!! Much of the old films I've watched is already in circa 90s. ANYWAY before I get to blab too much, the film recommended to me by a friend, is entitled: How to Be Single. Which was such a cutie........ because of the WARDROBE OF DAKOTA JOHNSON AND REBEL WILSON! (Oh no! I didn't just use all-caps to emphasize my statement?!). Yes, you read it right, I'm enthralled by the fashion in it as much as I love the movie - I'm not going to discuss the synopsis of the film here. You can watch it and go figure!

I just want to share how pretty the styling is in this movie, which brings me back to my Makati business district imagination (the same feeling when I was watching sex and the city, the devil wears prada and confessions of the shopaholic)! I'm already excited to be a WORKING WOMAN! Walking on some street with grace and class, just like Dakota Johnson in this movie! Hahahaha - whaaaat? Not too much connection but you'd still read my blog post right?

Here are my favorite looks (most of them are Dakota Johnson's):

Home

“Where is your destination?” said an old woman who sat beside me at the airport. We both had delayed flights so, we had to wait at the boring departure area, and she was stuck wondering how to kill the time. I’ve been thinking a lot as well. Where’s my destination? I don’t know. I’m kind of trapped also, but of a different kind. It was almost 4 years ago.

Where is your destination? Home.

Home as they’ve said, is the place where one lives. Some would spitefully say; it’s an end point. Is it, really? In our younger years, home is where our family is, the ones close to our identity, a place where we settle and belong.  “Welcome to our home” hangs shabbily on the living room wall, a place where your mom sews garment holes while watching TV series, and your pet sleeps beside her during the afternoon. But, as we grow older, what is home to us now?

As I got older, I’ve learned that it’s not just a four-cornered room; it’s not where you live and settle. It’s not a place, and definitely not an end point. It’s in the children of broken families, fragmented friendship bracelets, torn love letters, smashed beer glasses, shattered dreams, and in the people who travels alone. Home is when you get to hold their hands and listen to them cry. Home is whenever our hearts beat together to form as one.

It’s where dreams are made, relationships are mended, songs and letters are written, where we drink our hearts out in joy, and people meeting new acquaintances and learning how it’s like not to be alone anymore. It’s where lovers exist, empathy dwells, and happiness stays. My home? It’s right now, trying to write a love letter, starting with a messed up idea, then ending it with, “welcome to my home”. It’s not an end point; it’s the birthplace of new things. It’s not where you live; it’s where you feel loved.

Where is my destination?

To you.

Love always,

Patricia