Without Reservations

I am known for being a talkative arse since high school. I hate ‘dead air’ the most, I hate going out without someone to talk to. I hate those awkward stares from the people I passed by when I’m alone (maybe they also hate me for my cold stares). Sometimes being alone doesn’t really mean I acquire silence. I especially refrain from going out of our dormitory when I don’t have someone to accompany me, because my skeptical mind is shrieking its own soul when I’m alone. I would rather be a worry-free, talkative arse with my friends than being skeptical with myself.

However, there are times that I love being indulged to silence. My definition of silence is when I hear nothing but the flow of nature, without interruptions, and just pure appreciation of being alone. These are the times of anticipating new and inspiring things to come. These are the times when I feel like my skeptical thoughts are being cleared from my memory. These are the times when I realize that I can be a strong, and independent woman being alone because silence is somehow, soothing. Silence is what gives me power, and it gives me that command to execute my dubious thoughts.

If I am expressing mere silence for a day, there is really nothing wrong with me, I am just cherishing those moments where I don’t talk to anyone at all and all I have to hear is the flow of nature, the mere sound of things that are moving, the deep conversations of the people around me, the rustling of vehicles outside our dormitory, the EDM music in my headset, etc.

Maybe silence of one’s self is what I am pertaining to.

Back to Zero

I’ve been inactive in writing again. I was distracted, unaware of my fall. As a college student, I’ve been struggling with time management. Yes, I want to express my inner thoughts every now and then in this blog. I want to escape from reality once in a while. I want my insights to bring me to another dimension of myself. I want to reflect and to write, but I don’t know how my dreams all turned into a plop. 


Do you know that feeling when you have so many ideas in your head, then you start writing and suddenly everything turns into a plop? Instead of hearing a commotion of words, you just hear a plop. 

I’m Already Seventeen But…

I’m already seventeen, but my eyebrows are still real.

I’m already seventeen, but I feel like I am required to draw at my eyebrows.

I’m already seventeen, but I do not understand the idea of emptying my eyebrows and then filling them up again.

I’m already seventeen, but I don’t know why being bare faced with lots of acne, and chapped lips are being a big deal in society today.

I’m already seventeen, but my hair is still kinked.

I’m already seventeen, but my stomach is still peeking out of my box crop top.

I’m already seventeen, but I cannot get rid of all these fake standards which the society focuses on.

I’m already seventeen, but I do not know why people seek to set standards about beauty, which is vague and immeasurable element.

I’m already seventeen, but I can’t let go of my old brilliant selfies, when in fact they were already backed up.

I’m already seventeen, but insecurities are still devouring me.

I’m already seventeen, but I feel so pressured.

I’m already seventeen, but I’m still undecided.

I’m already seventeen, but I am still afraid of criticisms.

I’m already seventeen, and I know some answers to my questions, but I still find life confusing.





Home is hope.

I really want to go home. For a student living away from home, I can see hope.

June is approaching. Time for vacation. Time for refreshment. Time for reflection. Time for rejuvenation. Truth be told, when I get back to the Philippines I don’t want to leave again. It may seem riotous in the Philippines nowadays because of the coming election, but I don’t care. I just want to go home, and be indulged with Filipino culture, tradition, and language again. I don’t want it, but I need it rather. I need to look back to the place where I belong. I need to meet the Filipino cuisine again, I need to be restored. I don’t know if you will truly understand me, but I currently live away from the Philippines and I feel so empty.

I feel so empty without my family.

I feel so empty hearing only few people speak Tagalog.

I feel so empty having to choose to study overseas, overwhelmed by my expectations.

I feel so empty, not knowing that I’m betraying home little by little.

Again, June is coming. Hope is coming. I’m coming HOME.


Thankfully Scarred

I thanked him for hurting me. I thanked him for making me attached. I thanked him for making me fall, especially into that pit. That pit full of promises and sincerity, – love in the making. Though he hurt me while I was hurting, I still thanked him. I don’t know why am I being emotionally thankful for the scars that he left.

Is it because we’re done playing? Is it because I was played again? Is it because another lesson was learned? Did I really learn something?  Is it because I am used to being left alone? Is it because I’ve experienced this so many times? Or maybe I just damaged my frontal lobe? 

I was scarred, but I couldn’t get angry. I just smiled as I utter my grateful speech.

I asked, how could I betray myself? How could I not love myself? How could I give more to him and spare less for myself? 

That night was bizarre. That was that night when I want to cling unto you but you didn’t want to. That was the night when I want to hold you for the last time but you refused. That was the night when we still confessed our mutual feelings, but we declined to be together. That was the night when we ended that thing with each other, even though it doesn’t exist yet. That was the night when we only stare at the dark, empty sky nourishing the presence of each other, knowing that it would be the last time. That was the night when you told me to stop hurting myself. That was the night when I realized that we’re just not enough for each other, but I still chose you. Unfortunately, you gave up too soon. Then, what am I supposed to do?

It’s so hard for me, as a woman. I don’t want to look so desperate. I don’t want to try too hard, so I chose being scarred instead.

It was oddly confusing, but I was thankfully scarred.


Why do writers write?

Inked Thoughts and Midnight Monologues


For us, writers, this is such a profound question of our existence. Writing for me, has always been a constant source of inspiration and sheer joy. The intensity and magnitude of exhilaration that writing gives can’t possibly be gauged. I, for one, cannot even find words to construct a coherent answer to define this feeling, this beautiful feeling that I experience when I write. Writers feel this way. But why do they?
Maybe it’s this uncanny ability of penning down something heartfelt that transmogrifies our complete state of being when the weight of our emotions gently get absorbed in long parchments and old diaries. Maybe it’s the written monologue that elevates our souls to a level of blissful equilibrium. Maybe it’s the effortless exercise of mind-cleansing that writing brings with itself. Maybe it’s the fact that writing is a medium of communion between the deepest corners of our minds and the strangest…

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When in Cát Bà

Cát Bà Island – Viet Nam Travel V 2016

Credits to @paulinehiew for the video!


It was 3 am when we left our dormitory which is located at Thai Nguyen City. It was an eight hour travel to Haiphong City where Cat Ba is located. The trip was not just for a pleasure, it was for our subject Water and Society. At first it was unfamiliar for me studying about water. How it affects the economy of a country, how it produces conflict among nations, how it affects the ecological system, and how significant it is in every living organism that exists.


I’ve learned many things during the discussion and at the field (Cat Ba). It’s absurd how most of us, including me, disregard the things that are vital. There are so many simple ways to appreciate those things, yet I didn’t do anything. I just sit here and watch the world revolve. In a world where change is the only constant thing, we all want a change for the better, yet we only knew how to speak and not to act. We are being devoured by the system of money, of power and of fame. I realized that life is like a set of domino, every little thing we do will have an either positive or negative effect.


We traveled by bus for about eight hours, and by ship for about an hour. I did not expect the view to be very impressive, but indeed it was impressive, it left me in an awestruck moment.


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It’s funny because I’ve never been to Boracay or El Nido (Philippines’ tourist spots). It’s funny how a field work/experiment happened in this place.

As I’ve said, it’s not for pleasure but for experiment. We were told to interview tourists and locals about their overview, feedback, and comments about the water quality, water management, and recommendations in Cat Ba. We asked the foreigners the most, because the locals have a difficulty in speaking English, and we have a difficulty in speaking Tieng Viet. The result of our survey was saddening, because the feedback and overviews are mostly negative. About water quality, most of them said that the water was not that clean, as they’ve seen a lot of rubbish floating in the ocean, at the harbor, and at the seashore. They also think that the beach lack water management and service crews for tourists. Most of them were impressed by the view alone, but not with the water quality, management, and service crews. We met a lot of people with different nationalities. It was a tiring yet an inspiring field work.


Nick and Daniella from Europe.



Good news, got an A for this subject. I am sincerely grateful to our professor, Arinafril Naalim, for sharing his heartfelt lectures and experiences. I learned a lot from this subject Water and Society.

If water was gold, would you save it? 

Seasons are Changing

Winter is gone, a new season has come, Spring.

Just as the coldness is done, the flowers and leaves start to bloom.

A new beginning. Another season to be plentiful and pleasant. 


In my eyes, plants are the most blissful creatures in Spring, and the most melancholic creatures in Winter.

Plants are alive. They wither. They die. After the vivid season comes the gloomy one. Life cycle. 

How I wish my feelings are like these plants. How I wish I could start anew together with these creatures, programmed to bloom in spring. Move on and live well. 

Not all plants bloom during spring. Some of them dies too. 

It’s so strange but they give me hope and happiness. I always stare at them and observe them, wondering how they were formed, in awe of the Mighty One who created and gave life to them.

I realized that if God cared for them, He cares for me too. If he restored the trees and flowers and made them vivid again, then He will make me whole again.

Somehow, somewhere, He is there to help me get over the season of brokenness, and He will give me joy to welcome the new season of my life.

Maybe not today, but in due time.

Heaven Knows (This Angel Has Flown) – Orange and Lemons HQ – YouTube


I read about https://anghulinghugotero.wordpress.com/2016/03/25/the-hugot-playlist-opm-edition/ and I discovered this song.

It was right to the feels, kahit pa lumang luma na. Actually, pagdating sa OPM, I prefer songs na kahit luma na, basta damang dama nung sumulat at nung kumanta yung lyrics.

There are times
When I’m lyin’ in my bed
How I bellow and cry from this stupid get
And my eyes are like windshields on a rainy day
Almost rubbed-out, swelling
As I keep on
Diggin’ my face
In these cold hands of mine
Heaven knows how embittered, I am


Ganitong ganito ako, noong sinabi niyang wala na, tapos na. Kung noon, panyo lang ang nababasa sa mga luha ko, ngayon unan ko na. Kung lahat ng feelings ko ay literal na lumalabas sa pamamagitan ng pagluha, nasa unan ko na silang lahat ngayon. I was murdered by an angel. 

Dumating ako sa time na ayoko na lang magsalita. Ayoko nang magkwento sa mga kaibigan ko tungkol sa sakit at galit na nararamdaman ko hanggang ngayon. Natatakot ako na dumating yung araw na sumuko din sila sa akin, dahil paulit-ulit na lang. I have this fear of disappointing people, and I don’t want to lose them. I can’t. 

And this is the only way I can release the pain, to cry silently. Hoping that he will find home in me again.