Open Letters, Writing

To the Man Who Ran Over My Dog With His Car



To the man who ran over over my dog with his car, know that the picture you’re seeing in this post isn’t my dog whom you ran over. My dog was (was is difficult) was fluffy white, white pinkish lower lip and eyes so wide and innocent and kiss that could fill up my insides with warmth — warmth that you, I figured, could never ever have experienced. I picked out a dog picture which doesn’t resemble my dog because I still can’t bear to see anyone whose features is as close as my baby’s face and body. Because that would mean imagining her with excruciating pain, broken bones and internal bleeding and gawd that would be freaking hard.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, know that all I wanted from you was to feel sorry or at least pretend to be sorry. But what you did was tell my mom that a street is no place for dogs. Of course, that’s the case, but we live in a subdivision. In little, narrow streets which you couldn’t speed away that fast. Mom told me she heard a thud and yet, you went ahead. Only if you did stop to look at what you have hit.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, mom told me she found our baby under our abandoned car across our house, crying of pain, peeing all over the place with her tongue out of her mouth. She got her and did first aid, but she couldn’t help it. Mom didn’t say the word ‘dead’ over the phone. Of course, she wouldn’t. I still have to ask it myself. And when she said yes, I sort of froze and kept asking the details. But, I wasn’t able to sustain it that I have to cry in front of my eight-year old cousin during our supposed to be Mother’s Day out for my aunt and welcome back celebration for me.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, know that you have broken a mother’s heart and a mother’s bones on Mother’s Day. My mom cried as soon as she heard my voice cracked and my dog had 5 one-month-and-a-half babies, all of whom are orphans now. They must have been missing their mom because my dog was a pretty caring and loving mother to all of her babies. She still cleans her first daughter’s ears even though BamBam, that daughter of hers is already four years old. Mom told me BimBim just sit beside her mom’s body all the time after that incident. And what breaks my heart even more is that thought of how her husband, BoomBoom feels. Gawd, that dog is extremely sensitive and I bet he knew what went wrong. He knew that the love of his life wouldn’t be there with him on the coming days.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, know that you have taken away one of my life’s inspirations. That I would forever be longing of my dog’s kiss when I’ll be coming home next week. What’s left of BimBim’s kiss is a dew on top of the plants on the soil that she was buried under. She wouldn’t be there coming all over me when I’ll enter the gate next week. She wouldn’t be there hiding at he back of our house during Christmas Eve this December because she’s afraid of all those firecracker noises. She wouldn’t be there to take care of her kids. She wouldn’t be there to make my BoomBoom happy. She wouldn’t be there to give birth to new puppies who have been making our friends lives a stretch happier.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, I got her five years ago and I even let her sit beside my during one of my review classes. I got her for BoomBoom. But you ended her life in a matter of minutes. You took her away from us without being sorry for us.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, people I care about tell me that I could just go buy another dog, but no. Nobody is irreplaceable. Just like your wife. Just like your kids. An animal cannot be replaced with another animal because one creature is a person of his own. I wish you treat dogs like humans because they get hurt, feel emotions, eat like we do, breathe like we do, they could die and they could be loved. Loved by people and animals alike around them. So, don’t go acting like you haven’t killed somebody because you actually did. Without being sorry.

To the man who ran over my dog with his car, if you ever run over another dog the next time, at least fucking say sorry or just pretend that you are. Your lack of compassion has made my baby angel a little more human than you can ever be.

Photo Credit: Flickr

Open Letters, Writing

Open Letter to My Only Ex-Boyfriend

Hey, hardy boy.

It’s been a year and a half since our first ever serious break-up and over two years since we last saw each other face to face. All the drama that occurred for those seven years of my life has been terribly beautiful. I got hurt so so so so bad that I cut Starfish, the pillow that you gave me. Cut on the bed sheet my mother oh so dearly treasured. Cried my balls out in the middle of the night. I did that often though for the last 3-4 years of our relationship though.

But, the rush of emotions that you put me in was unthinkable and unparalleled. I guess that’s the magic the first one brings into your life. Everything is magnified like you’re just a vampire who just turned. Everyday, it felt as if you have just been bitten because everyday, the heavy breathing and the magnanimous rage is always present. I thought it would magnify exponentially over time and even more beautiful. Well, I believed it on some moments that we’ve been together. However, like most romances, I was forced to make myself stop for a moment and think of not us, but of myself.

In the deepest part of me, I thought we were so in love with each other that nothing, yes, absolutely nothing even distance can tear us away from each other’s arms. I wrote poems about us and I was starting to wander when my co-poets’ comments were like, ‘Ohh, unrequited love. Sorry, babe.’, when I thought it was romantic. I must have been blind. I must have been compelled by very self that we were okay. I can take being not treated as a real girlfriend. I can take the distance. But I am still a lady with a slowly dying heart and I cannot take both at the same time, every fucking day.

I guess I created my dream guy out of your persona base. I mean, you’re mysterious. You’re that guy whom every girl — and gay go gaga over when we were in high school. You were that witty classmate who could shut up his debate opponent with that one witty line. You write so good that I was swept off my feet when I read your love letters (which I have torn when we fought. You never wrote a single one ever since.) I always wanted a smart couple, conversing intelligently over everything and throwing I-am-wittier-than-you lines at each other. Just like in romantic comedies. I thought that was always cute. I love Oscar Wilde. I thought he writes very romantically. But when you happened, I thought, “Oscar Wilde was gay anyway.”

So, when my heart have grown weary and the fear of becoming sickly cold and forcefully contented in a wrong way began to snowball, I gathered all my might. I knew I had to break up with you years ago, but it is just a difficult thing to do. You had no fear of losing me and I cannot marry somebody who isn’t afraid of waking up without me by his side.

So much for the made-up love stories of you and me inside my head. I’m glad though that you are having the time of your life in a foreign country.

All right. We’re cool.



P.S. Remember to shower your patients with tender loving care, okay?