There is another me in a different dimension where I do not feel like this. Another dimension where my heart fits perfectly into my chest and I am not afraid of the things that make me feel alive.
It sucks that I live in this world where everything feels like it’s going to tear me apart. It’s like I’m always waiting for something to snap — for the sky to fall, for the ground to break, for myself to keep falling into an infinite abyss — always waiting for something to crash.
Love taught me that at one point in time, everyone I’ve ever loved had taken a part of me and nothing will ever be left for myself but the bruises, scars, and burns. Continue reading →
I’ve always been someone who wears her heart on her sleeve; someone who loves with all her heart. But growing up, I realized that the downfall of it all is that you let people see parts of you that you can’t get back, parts of you that only you know about; you let them see your fears, and think that they will share it with you, to lessen what you’re feeling, but in reality, you just let yourself be vulnerable to more pain.
It’s ironic that I get to write about all these things, yet I keep going in circles. I’ve always loved love and all the things that come with it — laughter, sadness, happiness, tears — but love isn’t supposed to be complicated, though love isn’t easy either. Love will throw challenges, obstacles, and trials that if you’re not strong enough to conquer, you’ll lose everything you’ve worked hard for.
I can say this over and over again, but most of the time, I go back in circles — I chicken out of being strong. Fear is eating me up, and I badly wanted to run from it and just get rid of this sinking feeling that I’ll eventually end up in tears but I don’t know how to fight it.
It sucks that deep inside, I know that the only reason I’m so sad and tired is because I keep letting fear take over me and I know what to do, yet why does it feel so hard to do so? Why does it feel so hard to just let things be?
Now, I am, by no means, the best writer in the world nor do I claim to be — I don’t think I am even half there. There are still so much room for improvement, learning, and more practice.
Writing, for me, is not only a hobby that I cannot let go of but my way of pouring out my thoughts and feelings. I find it therapeutic; the way it helps me clear my mind and make me feel like someone is listening even though I am only facing this blank, white page that will soon be filled with my words. Continue reading →
“Without hesitations, he kissed her lips, her ear, and then her neck which sent shivers along her skin. He placed his hand on her back and held her tight as he continued to kiss her. With every touch of his lips against hers, it made her feel as if she’s worth so much; like she’s priceless. Like she’s some kind of puzzle that he’s willing to solve and piece back together no matter how long it takes.
She nervously placed her hand at the back of his neck and as the kiss deepened, she grabbed a lock of his hair as if she knew exactly what she was doing. She was feeling every feeling at once that she couldn’t think straight. The burst of feelings overwhelmed her.
In between kisses, they both kept whispering, “I love you.” They were smiling at each other like teenagers falling in love for the first time. It was crazy, it was funny, it felt good, but it was all too confusing at the same time. She was too scared, she didn’t know if this night will make or break her.
But she didn’t want to think about that, she wanted to live in the moment while it lasted. She closed her eyes and felt every touch of his lips against hers—against her skin.
She had never felt like that before. Like she wanted nothing more than to be in that moment; no other guy ever made her feel the way he did — no other guy had that kind of power over her.“
As kids, we were told that 3 a.m. is that time of the night when our human bodies are at low tide and our blood moves slower than usual. While, on the other hand, it is the time when the witches and demons are at their most powerful state because it is said that the thin line between our world and the “other side” is pulled aside at 3 a.m.
While most of us are sleeping soundly at this time, folklore also suggests that our dreams are a form of communication with the supernatural and are potentially dangerous. I’ve even read somewhere that most people in hospitals die at this hour.
But as we grow up, the witch hour turns out to be that time in the morning when he picks you up and offers to hold your bag for you.
It’s that time in the day when he kisses your forehead and tells you how much he loves you.
It’s that time in the afternoon when he walks you home or texts you good night.
It’s that point in your life when he stops doing all those things with you as you realize that he’s already found someone else to spend his time with just as how he used to spend it with you.
You see, the devil doesn’t always look as bad. He doesn’t always have horns, or fangs, or a tail. Most of the time, he looks exactly how you’d picture an angel to be.