This is my refuge; the only place where I spill the ink of my heart and soul.
1 2 3 »

Yes, you.

I was suddenly blinded; no, not but white light but darkness. It was then that they were two hands—soft and slightly cold. And before I even made a guess on who it was, my companion dropped her name.

"Fail!" I teased her, putting my tongue out. She answered with an "eyyy" then slapped my arm. And before I even realized it, she was hugging me so tightly from behind. The expression on my face, my smile, was priceless. I couldn’t get it off.

Before I even got to get over with what she just did, another one swiftly took over the hug. I wasn’t even aware of how it happened but instantly, her hands had already slipped down my arm and landed on my own childish hands.

I. AM. HOLDING. HER. HAND. My instincts were faster than my brain that time. I remember wishing that I had the guts to hold her hand; thinking of ways to slowly creep my fingers into hers until they interlace with each other. I wasn’t able to think and react correctly but my hand instinctively loosened up the grip and slowly shifted to the position where our fingers intertwined with one another. After that I softly started rubbing my thumb against her palm, making little circles. Holding her hand was my greatest goal; the easiest, some say, but for me, it was the most fluttering feeling that occurred inside my tummy especially because she was the one who first held my hand. From then after, she was switching from holding my hand, pinching my arm, and playing with my hair—putting hair behind my right ear and touching the hair at the lower back of my head ever so delicately, which was also adorable and heart-fluttering.

I didn’t want to put malice on everything that has happened on that day. Maybe we’ve never been together for a long time that she missed me so much. Maybe she has always been that clingy to her friends. Everything’s blurry at the moment but one thing I’m sure of is I’m saving a place for it in my memory, raping the replay button on mind.

One of the country’s best and prettiest liberos. LIbero of Ateneo Women’s Volleyball, Denden Lazaro.

One of the country’s best and prettiest liberos. LIbero of Ateneo Women’s Volleyball, Denden Lazaro.

A birthday gift for my first ever college friend (and my closest as of now) :)

Laziness struck me after I finished the head. Ugh for the cold weather.

You could at least tell me I mean nothing instead of letting me hang on and wish that all of my fantasies are true

Even though you are such a pain in the ass sometimes, I’d always consider you as one of my most treasured friends ;)

Unsent Letter


            Months ago, it never did really cross my mind that I would even write you a letter like this. I’ve never really been good at words, or anything I guess at the least. But I am, please believe me, trying my best to work this out without ruining your mood.

            To make someone happy, a person’s first instinct is to tell them stuff about flawlessness but here I am cutting the cliché. You are imperfect; we both are to be exact. Be angry at me for saying so, but let us just accept that fact. You aren’t the most attractive girl in the world. You don’t have the perfect color for a skin. You don’t have the nicest and most fragrant hair. You don’t even have the best diction and accent. You don’t have that most kissable lips or that kind of eyes where you’d be like “wow”.

You have flaws and so do I. You make mistakes, you’ve encountered failures—these are normal.

I can’t tell you that I think about you every second, every minute of every day. I can’t even tell you that you’re the one who gave me the widest smile or the most hysterical laugh. I can’t tell you that you’ve never made me mad. I can’t lie about being hurt due to some of your words and actions. There are times that you piss me off, times when I piss you off. There is nothing perfect about you, about me, or about us, if such a word exists. And that’s the thing. I’ve grown attached to those flaws. They were the things that kept me wide awake at night; the blemishes that kept me hanging. Maybe that’s why even if everything hurt, I’ve grown so much used to it that I can’t let go. I can’t forget.

Many people try hard their ugly parts that they don’t know that these are the things which make them unique and beautiful. They try so hard to be perfect that people around them can’t jive with the flow thinking that they must be perfect too. That’s the thing about you; you don’t make me feel like that. You don’t make me feel out of place or like I need to rise up to your level. However ironic it may seem, your flaws make you perfect in my eyes.

But as much as every one of us would want this the other way around, I can’t love you forever; for forever is a big word and is a complete contrast of the permanence of change. But I know, I will love you and care for you in any way and the longest that I can.

Even if you can’t love me back.



I didn’t know it was possible to lose words of expression because of extreme pain.