It's Nice talking

Anyone who knows me knows that my heart belongs to Disney. If Filipinos proudly say, "Pinalaki ako ng SexBomb," then I can safely say Disney raised me right alongside them.  Give me a High School Musical track, and I won’t just sing every single lyric by heart, I’ll name the exact movie installment and scene in a heartbeat.  Play Camp Rock, and I’ll drop right into that iconic knee thing, no matter how embarrassing it looks to everyone else.  And don't even get me started on the Jonas Brothers, just look away, because the nostalgia is real.  Throughout my childhood, high school, and let's be honest, well into my college years, I downloaded every single Disney Channel Original Movie I could get my hands on. I’m blabbing, but I just really want you to understand the pure and unfiltered Disney kid inside me.  (Visiting Disneyland is a dream come true for someone like me!) Right now, I’m sitting at my desk, trying to get things done, when a familiar song plays thro...

 No longer the wind, but the salt of tears  tells what will never be. The face you’ll never see again stays buried in a dream untold.

I was reminded of my Lola today. 11 years ago today, I left for college. I still remember hugging my Lola while she was washing the dishes, and she said, sobbingly, “Unalis ka la. Mancollege ka la.” (Aww, I miss your voice, Mama!) My university was only a few hours away from home, but it felt like such a big thing for both of us. For the first time since I was a kid, we wouldn’t be seeing each other every day. We wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed. We wouldn’t be having our meals together. And my Mama didn’t even have a phone back then. Video calls weren’t really a thing yet. I remember thinking hala, OA kami, ang lapit lang naman. I went home the first weekend after I left for college. And most of the weekends after that. Haha! “Unalis ka la” was such a simple phrase. I don’t think any of us knew how much it would mean to me years later. Because eventually, the time came, there was no Mama waiting for me when I come home. I never got to fully share this, but in March this year, I h...

It was right to count the days, for they were always numbered. I kept the tallies close  so nothing was forgotten. It was wrong to count the days,  for that was just the beginning. I watched the balance drain  of things I cannot reclaim. The words used to match the actions. Until rare are the words, sparse are the deeds Until the pattern broke Then silence became louder The system was flawless, bravo! Calculated without fear, unapologetic. I'm speechless with the craft. So I count the days from here.  I have derived my own equation.  Not a calculation, perhaps, a retribution.

I have this habit of playing music while I work. Then, a Forest Blakk song called "If You Love Her" started playing in the background. I've heard this song more times than I can count. It's even on my Spotify playlist. But every single time I hear it, it tugs at my heartstrings. Right to the core. It's as if Forest Blakk wrote it about me, and every time it comes on, I swear I could just cry. Kidding. The song goes like this: "She always has trouble falling asleep And she likes to cuddle while under the sheets She loves Pop songs and dancing, and bad trash TV There's still a few other things" Oh, that is so me. Trouble falling asleep? Check. Cuddling? Maybe. Pop songs? Absolutely. Dancing? Only when no one's watching. And bad trash TV? Guilty. I'll watch it all, no matter how ridiculous or predictable the plot gets. "She loves love notes and babies And likes giving gifts Has a hard time accepting A good compliment She loves her whole fam...

  Before anything, I have to make it clear that I am not going through a breakup. Let’s just say I’m in my Olivia Rodrigo era because I “seem pretty sad for a girl so in love.” Hahaha! I had a conversation with my cousin one night. She told me, “Changes are painful ano?” I’ve already come to terms with the fact that change is inevitable. I’ve experienced it so many times, in all ways you can imagine. But some changes, despite how prepared you think you are, will still slap you in the face and remind you that nothing stays the same no matter how much you want it to. There are things you thought would be permanent just because they’ve been there your whole life. The bond, the connection, the memories, regardless of depth, can change in a blink of an eye. And that is something we must all learn to accept and is exactly the first step to moving forward: acceptance. Acceptance of the things you have no control over. Acceptance of the reality you tried so hard not to face. Acceptance of ...

“Alms. Alms. Alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy.” I remember declaiming those lines in fifth grade. Back then, I had no idea what they meant. I simply memorized the words and delivered them as instructed. But what is vengeance, really? A dictionary can give you a definition. The lesson behind the piece I delivered says that personal vengeance only breeds more suffering. Yet for a child who is “so young, so thin, and so ragged,” the story may not be that simple. Do not be deceived by an innocent face. When the time is up, all hell could break loose. They say vengeance belongs to no one. That it is not ours to claim. Perhaps. But I am certain, part of that child still hopes it finds those who truly deserve it. Don’t go. It’s a mighty long fall. 

If there is one lesson life pressed into me early, it is this:  we arrive with hands already closed. If you think I stand without another path, look closer. I have been gathering quietly, piece by piece, thread by thread. The stillness is not peace. It is time disguised, the careful shaping of defenses. You may trust in your mastery of the game, but I have been moving long before the board was set, winning in places you never thought to look. Because when the hour reveals itself, I will not wait to be saved. I have always known I am the only one who can. I am ready to burn in the game I choose to play.  If there is a cost, I have counted it. If there is an end, I have faced it. What rises from it will still be mine. So stand firm in what have stirred. Even silence can become something that burns.

I'm quite lucky to come across art exhibitions whenever I travel.  When we were in Fukuoka in 2023, an exhibit was featured at the Fukuoka Art Museum. They encouraged people to write or draw anything related to the sea. So, I wrote a poem called "I am scared of the sea."  During a recent trip to Taiwan with my family, we went to the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. It was around 3 to 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and I could already feel the exhaustion from all the walking we had done. I got curious about a building a few meters away from the memorial hall itself and asked my niece if she wanted to check out what was inside. It was Taipei's National Theater, and inside was an exhibition called "A Love Letter to Myself." Sure, I have written hundreds of letters to many people, and yet I've never really written one to myself. There, I wrote a love letter to myself. And for a moment, I was just there, thinking about what I wanted to tell myself, things that...

My mind has been a mess lately. I’m grateful someone invited me to watch a Pyromusical Competition. It gave me a chance to take my mind off things, even if just for a while.  One moment that really stayed with me was when the United Kingdom’s Pyrotex Fireworx used  Zombie by The Cranberries as its music.  The sound and intensity of it somehow echoed how I’ve been feeling recently. But it also reminded me of Lang Leav's words: 106 Wonder The first thing you sent me were fireworks. Sparks of light and color over a bridge to nowhere. I was already in love when we met that summer; I belonged to someone else. To make room for you, I had to ask the world for permission, but every answer was a dead end. But who am I to blame them for telling me what I already knew? So, I danced around you like a storm, white light against the cool black sky, like strobe lights flickering on and off. I said we could be something, you and me. I said so much and meant it, but never proved it to ...

I was listening to Travis Atreo. He sang, “Every second I'd count in the day and I'd pray them away. All the doubts that I thought were wrong.”   I moved away for a bit and wrote down my thoughts before I forget.  The song perfectly fits the feeling I want to feel when I finally find the courage to let go. The sunrise, the sunset, the warmth, the cold. All the irony that came with this.  None of it matters now. I was still happy.  As Travis Atreo said, “so I'll thank God for everything you were to me.”  Thank you. May you not easily forget the memories we will never tell. 

"Two questions: What is your name? Can I please have your phone number?" "Abbey. And I thought you'd never ask." Does anyone else know this song by Joey Fatone from the 2001 film, "On The Line"? The movie was... yes. But the song! Still bummed this isn’t on Spotify yet. I watched the film, but this song has been stuck in my head ever since. The romantic in me is just squealing. "Nothing is certain, this I know. Wherever we're headed, I'm ready to go." ♡♡♡

So listen, because this is what I need to say. You took what you wanted, treated me as something to shape and use, pulled the worst from places in me I did not know could darken. Again and again, you proved that the whispers about you were not whispers at all, but truths with sharp edges. Selfish. You move through the world like it belongs to you alone, grasping, bending, taking, morals twisted into whatever form lets you sleep at night. You do as you please, leave wreckage like footprints, and call it living. And I— I carry a hatred that hums in my bones, heavy and constant as breath, as blood, as the only honest thing left in me. Still, I will not curse you. I will not ask the world to be kinder than you were. I only wish you the future that fits you, cut precisely to your measure, stitched for a man exactly as you are. And know this— I hate you with everything that I am.

Sitting in silence, I watched the waves. So calming, yet my mind is composing words that I want to jot down once I get home. Now I understand what “you, me, we’re face to face but we don’t see eye to eye” means.  Or Lang Leav’s words, “You’re too close to me, my love. You’re missing everything.” With the hope to make new memories that you and I will only remember, I hate to think that I’d be a substitute for a better memory you want to reminisce.  I’m right here. But I feel as though I am one of the passersby you will forget once you leave this paradise.  For once, I don’t want to feel happy with the crumbs of happiness I get.  I want to feel happy, completely, freely, unguilty. 

This is a rant I have nowhere else to put. If you’re reading this, hello, welcome.  I’m dealing with so much nonsense that I can’t even pinpoint what’s upsetting me anymore. To all the selfish hearts and deceitful tongues, may you feel the weight of your own lies. Just... better days. That's all I'm asking.  Not everyone sees this post, but if you happen to, please leave a kind message. Because even small reminders of care make the BS a little lighter.