no matter how many words there are, there will never be enough.

always the telepathic kinds

today marks my 7th year in WordPress, ever grateful and blessed.

life has grown heavier, more stress, added responsibilities, figuring out life and how complex it is, but it has been more real and raw than ever before, people come, people go – some stay, some move on. managing time and sleep and work and food and leisure and relationships – has never been this hard.

but all the while – you never left.
there was you and I,

and i wouldn’t have it any other way.


love does not see you at your best and pats your back for a job well done
love does not pick you up at seven in the evening for a movie date
love does not play your favorite music in the middle of the day
love does not say, “please don’t  go”


love means seeing you at your worst and congratulating you for making it through the day by taking deep breaths
love means accepting your messy bits
love means the silence between your fingertips
love means you can go, but you choose to stay


to whom it may concern

they say
what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger
but the bruises
the scars
the wounds
the heartaches
is it still there?

how you tremble when you utter her name
the shadow may have left
sleepless nights have slept
the absence
and the coldness embracing you
when you know what belongs to you
has gone missing

but no
not really
you do not miss things
that aren’t yours in the first place
you do not look for a hand
that isn’t there
you do not crave for someone’s presence if all you have
are tears as souvenirs
you do not long for a shadow
to emerge from the dark

what doesn’t kill you
leaves you weary, somnolent, exhausted
of all the shit this world had to offer

but my love,
know this –
it makes you human
capable of hurting
capable of loving
capable of starting again
(you know this)


You speak in a language that most people don’t understand. You spend your life trying to find out why you’re different from the others. You talk in a different manner. You like moonrises and sunsets. You never end the night with goodbyes. You tear the last page of every book you own. You craft poems with a snap of a finger – you create magic out of thin air. You lie awake in your room in the middle of the night, battling demons that can’t be fought. Weary, enraged, what good would a combat do if you can’t see who you’re fighting against? But when you look at the mirror, all you see are cracks and flaws stitched with good intentions. But my love, you are beautiful. Your heart bursts in ways I cannot comprehend. You look at me and say I’m lovely, I look at you, and all I see is magic.


“You wake up half past three am, with a half-read Murakami book on the left, your glasses on your right, your sanity waiting to be found. You look around and see nothing but the darkness surrounding you. You embrace the darkness. You listen to the cat’s meow and wonder, why do they meow? Why at this hour? Are they trying to tell me something? Sort of a code for “wake up idiot, it’s your hour.” But I look at my watch, and it is definitely not my hour. When the world is asleep, my mind is awake. Thoughts flood my head, my fears, desires and regrets always come crashing. I try to think about work, the things I need to do, people to contact, and e-mails to send. But I find my restless self searching for something,something that isn’t there. Is it lost? I wonder. But what is it I’m looking for?

What went wrong? The question haunting me like a button-eyed porcelain doll in the dead of night. What went wrong? I could’ve sworn I did everything. I got you your favorite shoe, I went with you to that local concert you’ve been dreaming of. I wrote long sloppy handwritten letters just like how you wanted traditional romance to be. I bought your favorite coffee and with the perfect cupcake. I did everything. I did. But despite that, I still lost. I now hear the cat’s meow grow louder, and I feel a bit annoyed. I look at the window and try to shoo the cats away. But they don’t leave me. What went wrong? Where did I go wrong? Was the shoe too tight? Were the songs too mellow for you? Did I use the wrong words in the letter? Was the coffee too bitter? I wince at the thought. But I never got an answer. I always thought I was the kind of person who loved too much, cared too much, felt too much. I then realized, I didn’t do anything wrong. I loved too much. Is that a fault? My love is an ocean people fear swimming because they might drown. I love the best way I know how. I didn’t get a bachelor’s degree in love. I never got a chance to get a free trial on how to love. It just is. I find flaws within myself before anyone else does. I’ve torn myself apart just to stitch myself whole again. Nobody ever has to deal with the hell I’ve been through. I sit in the dark, waiting for the light to come in. And there you are, I see the outline of your face, forming a big smile. You. Smiling. At me. Your shadows playing in the dark. I smile.”

I wrote this for you.

To & from

I lay still

As I wrestle with my thoughts

At three am

I was just wondering

If I made you up

Like an apparition, a half-thought, a semi-permeable idea

But I know I didn’t

Because if you were

It would hurt less

Sting less

Burn less

But I was awake

From start to finish

From beginning to end

From sparks to ashes

I am awake

From the rampage

From the delight

From the damage

From the excitement

From the madness

From the thrill

From the ruin

To here


From me

To you


No flame burns forever