Prose Poetry, Writing

Away from him

 I recognize the piercings in your heart; your eyes betray them. Your heart is a fragile, magical thing; it’s supposed to be taken cared of. Not slashed and lacerated on random days he picks. You know you deserve better when you constantly push thoughts of I deserve better from your mind.

Listen, darling. You know your story. Don’t put a happy twist into it. Stop making excuses for him. Let the pain consume your bitter skin. But, always guard that crimson spot. And when all but that spot is already consumed, it’s time to cut the string and free-fall.

Let the birds watch you step into the air. Let them see you tumble and circle around mid-air. As you f



l                        away.

Splash! You hit the ocean surface. The feel on your skin breaking the tension is itchy-woundy, but you’ll get through.

You can start from here, darling. Away from him. Away from him.

Journal Entry Excerpts, Writing

Dead Butterflies in My Stomach

I woke up today to a bad news. When I heard my boyfriend sob over the phone, I knew what was wrong. The man has died. His father. Curse cancer cells. But, that’s just his way of saying goodbye to life. Hard. Frustrating. Torturous. And pretty expensive. No one deserves that, but He knows why such things happen.

I kind of knew this day would come. And I know he did too. Tito was a strong man until the second set of chemotherapy. I mean, he can still travel for long hours. He can still walk around the city. He can still do his job at home (he’s a baranggay captain). He still communicates with his sons. He joins in the celebrations — the 1st birthday of her first granddaughter. I didn’t really see him get weak and bedridden.

I was aloof of talking to him on our first few encounters, but as the encounters slowly frequented, he began talking to me. He would ask me to come eat. He would say goodbye whenever we would part ways. He would tell me to eat some siopao while my boyfriend was roaming around the mall with his uncle while we (his dad, sister-in-law and the 4 cute kids) wait for them. I did ate one siopao. I thought and hoped that I could have another dad in him (yeah, I know, I am assuming we’re not yet married) even though I know his situation. I kind of missed my dad. He died too ten years ago, a few weeks after I turned 16 and a few days I became a member of the Youth for Christ.


I called in sick just to be with my boyfriend today. I felt sick inside. I wouldn’t want him to be alone because being alone with lonely thoughts would drive people mad. And I don’t want a mad boyfriend. I mentally reminded myself not to ask him if he’s okay because I know that he’s not. Losing one parent is hard. Losing two is not just doubly hard. It’s like you lost your home to a typhoon. His mother died when he was sixteen too.

He has to go home to his hometown so I accompanied him to the bus terminal, but he ended up dropping me in a mall where he would take another bus because it’s already running late and I need at least 2-3 hours to go back to my apartment.

Hours back when we were still riding the first bus that we need to take, a woman, in her late 20s suddenly got up and talked about God’s word. I used to feel uncomfortable around them, but now I salute the courage and the willingness that they have just to spread God’s love. As if on cue, she talked about death. Like how we all have one life to live and that we need to see the urgency of the realization that we need to do things that would bring us closer to our Lord. It was sort of comforting and I kind of peeked on my boyfriend if he was listening, but I saw him closing his eyes. He was sleeping. When the talk ended, the lady gave out envelopes for donations to their mission. Our eyes met and I began to pull out my wallet, but he said he had some money on his pocket. My boyfriend and I usually ignore these things, but on that envelope, we actually placed something inside.

Now, he’s on the way back to his hometown and I have no idea until when he’ll be there. The idea of being away from him on his lowest moments just kind of sucked. Now, if only I was only purely working online, I could have accompanied him right then and there. But, I have work. And my Saturday classes would kind of get in the way too. But, I’ll be there with him next week. Or next next week. The days should move out fast. 😦

Book Reviews, Books

Why We Broke Up: A Book Review

Title: Why We Broke Up

 Book Blurb: I’m telling you why we broke up, Ed. I’m writing it in this letter, the whole truth of why it happened.

Min Green and Ed Slaterton are breaking up, so Min is writing Ed a letter and giving him a box. Inside the box is why they broke up. {Read more…}

 Book Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary, Romance

 Lusters: ✻✻✻✻✻

I first saw this book in National Bookstore, its ever charming cover luring me in. I had a bad case of a break up hang up that time and I started to run through the pages. The novel was a breath of fresh air. The novel is supposed to be a letter of Min, a “different” girl to Ed Slaterton, school’s hot basketball co-captain, with fancy illustrations of the things that the poor girl wanted to give back to Ed. A common break up move, but not mine. 

Each item tells a story. Each item represented a chapter of the teenage love affair, which ended up tearfully. Sorry, just spoiled you. I love the writing style and I adore it; Daniel Handler is mighty with words. His one-sentence paragraphs is comparable to a blackhole that seeps you in and make the time stop, making you remember your first heartbreak, or your first kiss, or how you believed in forever when your first love solidified into your life.

I know need not read a young adult story like this at my age (mid 20’s), but Daniel’s writing style had me at the first read. I fell in love with his weaved words that this whole review would just point out to how much I love the way Daniel writes, but kind of disliked the shallow story. But then, your first teenage heartbreak gets more shallower as the years progress, as opposed to that very moment when all your hormones were raging up and when you thought that that’s how love is supposed to be — panting after a few moments of kisses, the phone overheating to your night-long (again permit me to use the word)  shallow conversations and the bursting of negative, heavy emotions at the faint hint of your boyfriend or girlfriend having someone else. 

I like Min, by the way. She is arty. She is someone that I want to meet. She is someone that I want to be friends with. She is someone that I wish a part of myself is — very passionate about her interests. I like her ideas, her bold stunts, her themed parties, her affection for coffee with extra cream and three sugars, and for Ed. I was kind of like her when my first love is at its climax, cold with her friends. 

At this point, please know that I am not impressed with the story as it was predictable and that not that totally rad (or maybe because it just reminded me of my bad romance), but the writing made the book a great, imprinting read. Though sometimes, I have to admit that I am as jumbled as Min’s thoughts (bottom line: it was confusing I have to read the entire paragraph all over again). It’s just that the pacing of the scenes are fast and sometimes, I couldn’t keep up or I was again thinking of other things while reading. 

I kind of like Daniel Handler. I am curious about other books that he can write. But right now, I am going to bombard you with my favorite lines! 

Letting my hair down with my hair up, in a rubber band from your doorknob, and your shirt riding up as you hung out on the floor, your shorts loose and low, the small of your back I’d watched all day. Take it back, Ed. Take it all back.

I can see it, Ed, I leaned deeper into you, felt you nodding along with the sounds in the room, and your warmth signaled through to me from under your shirt, lovely strong, safe and right. 

To stop staring at you, I kept fiddling with the sugar until you stopped my hand with yours.

This is like a cookie, it tastes like a cookie having sex with a doughnut. 

*More of this book: Why We Broke Up on Goodreads