Zambales: Ocean with Black Sand

Here are some pictures when I visited Zambales, Philippines. Zambales is about five hours drive from Manila. The province, located in Central Luzon, is known as the “Wreck Diving Capital of the Philippines”. A storm was in the vicinity when we went to Zambales which resulted to higher waves and more powerful winds. Nevertheless, the ocean is both terrifying and beautiful, with black beach surrounding it.


Don’t Go, Please Stay

I died last night.

In my dreams, we were together. We’re not talking, we barely used to, but I saw your eyes, your smile, I saw how you move- those movements, that smile, those eyes which I love(d). 

It felt so real and I knew it would not happen, so that dream became a nightmare. Six years later after I fell in love with you, and you were just ‘amazed’ of me, whenever I dream of you, it became so hard to imagine, so painful, that I feel I’m dying.

I, for the nth time, told myself to stop thinking of you. To spare my dreams with what I think about you.

For maybe, one time, I will not wake up anymore.


Blog ko ‘to’ di ba?

Mabuti naman at may trabaho na ako. May tumanggap sa akin bilang writer. At sa malapit pa sa amin. Sa dinami-rami ng pinagexaman at pinaginterviewhan ko, dun pa sa puro q and a lang ako nakapasok. Yung boss ko parang magka level lang kami. Di ko siya mina-ma’am.

Start ko na sa August. Sa wakas may silbi na naman ako sa pamilya namin. Makakapagbigay na naman ako ng pambayad sa internet, cable, gas at tubig.

Pero sa gitna ng pang araw-araw kong pagpasok, pagbibigay sa magulang at paminsan-minsang pagkain sa gusto kong fast food, ano ako? 

Anong ginagawa ko para sa sarili ko? Saan ako papunta? 

Nag chat yung kaibigan ko sa akin kanina. Nawalan na raw siya ng passion, balisà raw siya. Ako yung tipo ng kaibigan na papayuhan kita o tutulungan kita sa abot ng makakaya ko, pero sabi ko sa kaniya, this time, I can’t help you. Kasi ako rin niyan, nasa kalagayan mo rin ako. Tatlong taon na. At hindi ko alam kung paano kita tutulungan kasi di ko rin matulungan ang sarili ko. 

Akala ko nung college, madali lang maging successful. Papasok ako sa magandang kumpanya, magiging best employee ako. Puta di pala. Pero sabi ng girlfriend ko successful naman ako sa ibang bagay. Naging government employee kasi ako at may mangilan-ngilang nagsabi sa akin ng pasasalamat kasi natulungan ko sila, outbound sa job description ko. Dun daw ako successful. Sabi ko siguro nga. 

Ang tagal ko ng di alam kung saan ako papunta. O siguro alam ko pero di ko gustong kumilos. Nung bata ako nadiagnosed ko yung sarili ko with depression, meron kasi kaming Reader’s Digest nun na may ganung quiz. Hanggang ngayon di pa ako nagagamot.

May blog post ako dito dati na dapat talaga mag s shift ako nung college. To psychology. Pangarap ko talagang maging psychologist. Para sa ibang tao, oo. Kalimitan naman ng mga desisyon ko these past, matured years eh para sa ibang tao. Like pagpasok sa government. Pero gusto ko rin kasing gamutin yung sarili ko sana. Alam ko kasing may sakit ako, yung sakit na di nakikita, pero habambuhay na.


Pink Rashes in a Pot

Frustrations, deaths and regrets all took toll on me

The years after college had been a powerful river which splashed me out of my comfort zone

I screamed that it should be gentler, life should be wiser

But it did not yield any. 

Today as I was strolling down my usual avenue

Where the muscle-toned beggar sit comfortably

And the coldness of the wind is not the only cold thing felt by the Persian cat waiting for the restaurant staff to leave the plastic of leftovers at the back

I caught three gold coins from my pocket and bought a newspaper. 

Same, bad, hopeless news awaited me

I continued walking to the coffee shop I regularly visit

And between my glances from the paper to the door of the shop – I saw frustration, death, and regret rolled into one. 

I saw you, at the end table of the coffee shop, the farthest from where I was but I knew it was you. 

My eyes went down to the white-collared suit you’re wearing, to the coffee you’re sipping, to the gold ring on your right finger. 

You’re back in town. The love of my life is back in town. The woman who married another man after I kneeled in front of her; frustration, death, and regret. 

It had been six years so I concluded that we should go on with our lives, so I entered the coffee house and went to the counter. You didn’t noticed me but I noticed a few thin, white hairs on your head; the subtle wrinkles in your eyes behind the glasses; the way your eyes scan your phone, emailing a coworker, I guess. 

As I leave the place, I looked at you again. This time, your eyes went up to my direction. Time stood by. A fragile smile was on your face, you nodded me to sit in front of you. That’s for your husband, I guess. Well, he’s not still around. I opted and for many, many, minutes, neither one of us talked. 

My hand clung to my seat as the memories swept me off, the happiness I never had again was in front of me, the pain which made me wed cigarettes ransacked my heart, and you didn’t even had to say a word. 

I lied that I had an important meeting that morning and I’m running late. I lied that I was happy that you’re having a second baby.  I lied that I was happy. 

Frustration, death and regret on me. 

I walked to the city and lit up a stick.

Boy, sometimes life makes you cry and you wish the tears will flow, but they couldn’t.

I never moved in my place until I emptied the cigarette box.