Sad Lullabies

Ang hilig hilig natin ibigay ang lahat kahit minsan wala nang natitira sa atin.

We give everything we have and even everything we don’t. At first, it’s okay even if we don’t get anything in return because we convince ourselves that this is how true love really is. It’s not selfish, and it never demands anything in exchange. But days pass, and then they turn into weeks. Months later, you realize it’s been years. It’s been years and you’ve given so much, and you realize how stupid you were for believing them when they told you they loved you, too. You’ve given so much without getting anything in return. All you got were tear-stained cheeks and sleepless nights, trying to make sense of things that don’t make sense at all. You rethink every word, every hug, and every second, looking for what you did wrong.

But the truth is you did nothing wrong.

Because the truth is sometimes we never get what we give.

And in those times, you question your worth. How could you not when the people you set on a pedestal turned out to be the same people who would pull you down? You invest so much time and effort just to see them smile, but they never asked if you were okay—not even once. You were too busy taking bullets for them, and in the end, when it’s already too late, you notice the gun they have been holding against your heart. Everything you ever gave became a weapon against you, and it hurts a little bit more every time they pull the trigger. And the bullets become hard to ignore when they hit you right in the core, when it’s already too much to take. You draw the line because you know it needs to stop. You know you need to stop.

You need to stop taking bullets for them, and you most certainly need to stop taking bullets from them.

Wag ka maging martyr.

You need to stop crossing oceans for people who won’t even cross puddles for you.

It hurts to think that some wouldn’t even consider crossing puddles for me. For some, I’m worth nothing. But do you know the worst part of it all? No. It’s not even the fact that I gave everything to them. The worst part of it all was that those people were once my everythingor at least I thought they were.

I wasted so much on people who made me think I wasn’t worth their effort, and it’s the biggest regret I have, my greatest defeat. There aren’t enough fights I could lose to justify how I felt, how I still feel. Because once you think you’re worth nothing, you’ll always be scared of the thought that you might really be nothing. That thought remains in your head. It’s stuck on replay like a sad lullaby, and it will continue to play until your fears turn into reality.

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Waves of uncertainty

I don’t even know where or how to begin.

I promised you I would stay. I promised you I would be always by your side.

I know the feeling of being alone. They say it comes in the hours of Artemis, just as darkness consumes the same air you breathe. They say it comes with deadly silence, when you can only hear your steady breathing and the furious beating of your restless heart. But I’d like to point out that loneliness knows no limits. It can come even when the sun proudly stands in the sky to rudely flaunt its light on those who only know dark. It can come with the deafening noise that only ends up muted in your ears, obstructed by your taunting thoughts that growl twice as loud. It can even come when you’re in a crowd of nameless faces or when you’re drowning in the company of people you have come to know. It’s when loneliness strikes with maximum pain because you realise that these people are merely strangers. It’s when you realise that your late night conversations and lunch out’s with these people are but mundane and even with 7.046 billion living in the world, some still stand alone.

I guess my choices and beliefs have led me to be an individual disconnected from the world. I find it rather uncomfortable to open up. I feel like a burden whenever I try to. I mean, why would you share problems to people who already have more than enough to begin with? And if they don’t have problems, why give them some? I’d rather take it all, by myself, just so people won’t get burdened.

It’s rather quite ironic, hypocritical even, because I’d take it all for the people I love, too. I’d carry their burdens just to lighten their load even if I can barely carry my own. I’d take it all because I never EVER want you or anyone else I love feel alone, especially through dysphoria.

My loneliness fuels my desire to divert you, and other people I love, from the same road I chose… and still choose to take.

I don’t ever want you to know how much it hurts. It’s the reason I promised you that I would never leave.

I want to be there when the entire world pisses you off and you no longer have the control you wear so perfectly. I want to be there to cheer you up when you forget how to smile or why you should. I want to be there when you feel so hopeless and defeated. I want to be your refuge when you have nowhere to go or when you need to feel safe. I want to be that voice in your head that reassures you when you’re in doubt. I wan’t to be there when no one is.

But the past few days made me falter. Weakness was drawing me in, and it was slowly erasing my conviction. The past few days, I grew unsure of my promise.

A small part of me is admittedly still uncertain.

I guess I haven’t considered all angles, and I forgot the fact that I might not be what you need. I might not be the shoulder you would want to lean on when the world is beating you down. I might not be the person you would want to run to when sadness runs after you. I might not be the person you would want beside you when your demons screw you over.

I would love to stay by your side, but I don’t want to force myself in your space. I sometimes don’t know what to do anymore.

I guess I just don’t know my place in your life. I’m not even sure if you have space for someone like me whose baggage is far heavier than it seems.

I thought I already figured you out. I thought I already destroyed the shell you once used to crawl back in every time you get hurt or upset. I thought I was starting to get to you.

I thought I already found where I stand in your world.

But I was wrong. I guess I don’t know you that well. I may not even know you at all.

And it hurts me to know that you’d choose to go back in your shell instead of finding comfort in me. It hurts when you’re upset or sad or in pain. But not having the power to take it away hurts more. I want to do everything I can to take the sad look off your face. I’d do anything at all. But here I am, frozen in my place, unable to do a single thing but watch you take the pain. I hate seeing you like that, and I hate the paralysis you put me in whenever you push me away. In truth, it gives me such a heavy feeling.

I feel useless.

I have come to realise how selfish my promise was. I think staying benefits me more than it helps you. I am slowly becoming a burden you wouldn’t want to carry because I can never be half the person you are to me.

I don’t know how, but you slowly infiltrated my bubble. You slowly figured me out through words dropped by chance. The feeling of having someone there became my drug. I became a parasite without even knowing it. You grew on me, and I clung to you like you were air.

Scratch that. You are air. You became air the moment you pulled me out of the loneliness that suffocated me. But I’d rather not breathe if the cost of my air is your happiness.

I don’t deserve you. I don’t want to drain all your time, effort, and energy out for me. I’d rather you keep your smiles than give them to someone as unworthy as a lost cause like me.

I’d keep everything in once again, and I’d take it all if it’ll bring back the light in your eyes. I honestly don’t know why I allowed this to happen. I threw all my problems at you because you easily made me trust you. I don’t know how I stomached burdening one of the people I love the most when I couldn’t even lighten his load.

My promise was clouded by the freedom of being outside my walls, and now, I’m left confused.

I’m not sure anymore if I’m good for you, but there is nothing more that I’d want in this world than to be there for you like you always were for me.

I sincerely apologise if I’m not enough. I apologise for not even being close to half of what and who you are to me. I apologise for the times I faltered and for my moments of weakness. More importantly, I apologise for the moments that I become like the people you run away from.

I may not be what you need, but I’ll try my hardest to be close to it.

So I’m building the promise again— the same one but with a clearer purpose, a greater foundation.

I’m not leaving, and I’ll stand firm with this decision, not for my own good but for yours, and I will not be wavered by the cold tides of your rejection and neither will I falter because of the waves of my own uncertainties.

To My Dear Seniors


A semicolon represents a sentence the author could’ve ended but chose not to.


It’s been a while since I first walked through the halls of high school, and back then, I had eight hundred days. I had eight hundred days to walk through the halls of red and gold.I had eight hundred days to draw graphs and dissect frogs. I had eight hundred days to look for x and to keep asking why. I had eight hundred days to learn the difference between parallelisms and parabolas. I had eight hundred days to fix fragments and complete phrases. I had eight hundred days to form sentences and build paragraphs and tell stories.


But, beyond the basics, I had eight hundred days to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be. I had eight hundred days to find my place and to find myself. I had eight hundred days to find people worth keeping. I had eight hundred days to know about four hundred faces, and I had eight hundred days to memorize the feeling I have around each and every one of them.


Eight hundred days seemed so much back then, but now, it seems so little. Now that I have less than a hundred left, I’ve realized that eight hundred is but an only because it’s all we’ll ever have.


They say after 800 comes a goodbye. They say after 800 it would be the end. But, I beg to differ.


We will always come home.


We will always come back to the place that forged our identity. We will always return to the community that once gave its everything just so we could give our everything back. We will always go back to the halls that awakened our restless hearts.

We will always come back under the wings of the eagle that taught us how to unfurl our own, knowing that we’ll always have shelter.


We’ve left parts of our hearts in these halls, and our hearts will always lead us home.


So here’s a semicolon.


Here’s a semicolon to the kids of Neverland. Here’s a semicolon to the steadfast spirits that shine brighter than the golden sun. Here’s a semicolon to the story that will forever be frozen in time. Here’s a semicolon to the hearts that roar and to the fury that will never die.


Here’s a semicolon for the class of 2014 because this is not their end.


This is not our end.




My Last Editorial Piece

Special thanks to Jean Liwag for helping me with this
and credits to marlo, cassie, and tristan (The italicized part is an edited version of your song)