WRONG

I just wanted to be like anybody else.

I wanted to look in the sky and appreciate its blue hue, just appreciate it but I look in the sky and think of all the possibilities I can experience if I don't give up. I look up and think that sky is really the limit when it comes to dreams.

I wanted to eat outside like anyone, browse through the social media or listen to music with earphones on my ears, but I look around and notice people. How they came into pairs or groups but I am by myself. I try listening to their chats but its all empty words because I don't personally know them. Sometimes, I go outside; shopping or just walking and I feel compelled not to put earphones on me because I wanted to hear the noise of people around me. There is a fascinating thing about hearing the sound of the murmurs they made.

I wanted to be like my few friends. I wanted to travel around the world from time to time, wear swimsuits and not care about petty things, like money or my skin. I wanted to have a relationship, be committed and raise a family. I wanted to be promoted at work and break free from the back-breaking work I always have. I wanted to spent the weekends and holidays with family and friends instead of caring for others family and friend. But here I am, at the marrying age, pursuing a carreer in law. I couldn't travel because I need money for the tuition fee this and and upcoming semester. I couldn't start a relationship because hello, I can't just walk towards a guy and say "hey, you look absolutely handsome, would you like to date me perhaps?". And I can't quit my job right now because it is very stable. Not to mention all the  health hazard I might face in the future but being a nurse in a government hospital is stable.

I know I always write about how I wanted myself to be. I know I always sound like whining of the life I have. But it's hard to understand being different when you get along with people well. When you have people who honestly accepts you for who you are. It's hard to understand dreams when you're born with the priviledge to just walk away from your day job and follow your hearts desire.

I jus wanted to be like anybody else. But there is something fundamentally wrong with me to begin with.

THE SEVENTH YEAR

You know what they say about time? About how people used to think of black and white, of good and bad or of being rich or poor? But it has always been time. Time is the only real thing in this world. Time is the one thing that matters because it is  the enemy.

I remember during the first three years after my sister's death, my concern was still being alive despite the fact that she's gone from this world. I don't want to live long enough because I thought I would never make it without her. Nothing will never be the same again because she's gone. Then the next three years was just letting the time pass. My thoughts are full of at least trying to live so when I got to see her again, I'll be able to tell her all the things I did after she goes first. Eternity is forever, what will we do with it but to talk and love each other. I wanted to make so many memories, happy or sad, it doesn't matter, I have to fill myself with stories that I will be able to tell her. I also noticed how the people who knows her suddenly stopped talking about her. How they suddenly forgot that I was once had two sisters. How my family were able to smile and laugh again despite the fact that we are broken. Her pictures in our home doesn't change. Her clothes and things were intact and untouched. It was the world around us that changes. It was the people and it was me. Time changes us.

Today was her 7th death anniversary. I will never get comfortable with using the word "death" or "dead" because I think she will only be dead when no one in this world will be able to remember her and I am still here. Me and my family is still here to live with her in our hearts. But time, being the greatest thief of all, seems to slowly take her away from us. It's slowly stealing away the memories. It's making us forget of her voice, of how she laugh, shout, cry, walk, run, stare and everything else in between. Time is slowly taking her away from me.

That is why I always made sure to write it down. I have to spend a day like this in order to remember her and write her down. Maybe if I do this time will fail from making us forget. As long as I live my dream will be to honor her. Of making the world know that she once lived with me here in this awful and yet beautiful place. Memories are very fragile things. The feelings with them fades quickly. But I have to remember. I have to remember her so I can have a courage to live.

WRITE IT

Of all the things I've learned to do, I am most thankful that I can write.

Writing is for me, the only thing that keeps me sane in this insane, ever-changing and cruel world. I am so thankful for all the authors I've read, they gave me the freedom to go into the worlds unknown. They taught me fly and slay dragons. They allowed me to have friends and face monsters with them and above all, they let me live a life.

I know I'm too sentimental right now but I just feel so thankful. So thankful that I grow up reading. That I'm known as always-the girl-with-a-book-in-her-hand. I couldn't imagine how some people can go through this lifetime without reading or writing. We are creatures of feelings. And yet we eventually forget how we feel about a certain moment because we are also limited by time. Time is the greatest thief there is. First it fades the emotion, then it steals the details. No matter how beautiful or tragic a moment is, it is always bound to be forgotten. That is why writing is important. We should write down everything that made us happy, sad, and all the emotions in between. Even the times when we don't feel anything at all. We should write our lives in whatever form we choose. Because that is all there is to it. Because writing allows us to live after we die.

EVERYTHING ABOUT ME IS SAD

It's lonely. No matter what I do, it's still lonely. Sometimes, I want to cry hard so that my sadness may be wash out away. Funny isn't it? I feel more real in sadness. There is so much reality in agony than in laughter. The world is so lonely. I am doing what Im doing just so I could pass the time. I feel trapped. Imprisoned in a life I never choose for myself. And even so, I couldn't change it. Choosing the life I always dream for myself would be selfishness. What am I doing? What am I doing watching and reading different series. I just get envious of the characters. I feel like they're more alive than me. They have a life. I don't feel like I have one  They go on adventures. And my loneliness increases everytime I finish one. Why is there that no fiction last forever? Why am I not allowed to grew up with the characters?  "Life is too cruel," says Katherina Petrova. "If we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?" But love is fragile. It breaks easily. There are many kinds of love in this world but they are too short-live. Many people fall out of love everyday. And what happens then? What is there after love? It's lonely. I couldn't even believe how lonely I feel right now. Is this the loneliness Kate Spade, Jonghyung and Bordain felt? Is there a way to know when sadness is too much? How can I go on living like this? What is there for me if I ever go on? I am too sad right now.

But I don't want to give up. Not yet. Maybe the only way out of this is through. Maybe tomorrow is a better day. Maybe I'll be able to see things differently if I go on. Maybe I'll be able to write the stories in my head if I continue living despite the loneliness. Believe me, I just want to go on. But it's getting hard everytime.

POCHOLO

There has to be a place for dogs in heaven. I mean, I believe even animals have a soul. They feel and they love so why wouldn't they have souls that wouldn't go to heaven?

My family lost one of our dogs today. Pocholo was an aspin. A breed typically found anywhere in the Philippines. I brought him home when a co-worker gave him to me. He was just a month old and my mother doubt that he would survive not having breastfed. He was so small. Just about the size of a large palm. It was my first time bringing home a dog. And it gave me a sense of responsibility. I have to take care of him because I brought him home. He bacame my instant son. But my work kept me from being with him everyday. So the responsibility of taking care of him was given to my father. My father was the one left in the house while we work so Pocholo was a blessing because he provided my father a diversion. And as the months passed, Pocholo became my brother. My mother loves him because he was also like a son to her. We love him. He was a friend, someone you know would be there barking to welcome you home. He has this habit of hugging us when we arrived home. And his eyes, I tell you, his eyes convey so much love for us it was like looking in the eyes of a human.

But then sickness came over him. He was a parvo survivor when he was a year old but he fought bravely and lived through it. About three weeks ago, he was inflicted by demodectic mange. He never had contact with any stray dogs. We never fed him any raw meat, fish or processed foods. We don't know on earth how did he acquire mange. We tried all known medications, organic and chemical, but mange is slowly taking him away. He lost appetite yesterday and today, I witnessed my brother, my son and my bestfriend as he drew his final breath. He suffered for an hour and all we could do was be with him. I will never forget his eyes. Though with ragged breathing, his eyes never lose the love in them. He locked eyes with me during the final moments. I knew he was trying to say goodbye. That he knew he's just minutes away from death and that he wanted to know that we'll be okay. I told him silently that it's going to be okay and that's when he slowly slipped away. He let out a whimper and took a very deep breath, the one he will never took again. He joined my sister in heaven. It was painful. So painful I don't know the words. We will miss that guy terribly. We will live the days missing that white, sweet, little man we lovingly called Pocholo.

I love you, Pocholo.

Tatay, Mama and Jannel loves you. We will always remember you. You were one of our best three years.

Run free, my love. I will see you again in rainbow bridge. 'Til then, sweet guy. 'Til then.

Pocholo

April 2016-June 11,2018

INTIMACY VS. ISOLATION

It seems to me that as the internet keep on making the world small, the trend nowadays is whether you are inlove or in the process of being there. People keep talking of love for all I care. As if its the most understandable thing in the universe. My relatives keep asking me if I am inlove. My few longtime friends hope I finally found someone to spend the rest of my life with. We rarely got any conversation besides love. Everyone at work, if you would ask them what they want for me, will tell you that they can't wait for the day I introduce them a man I will call boyfriend.

I never got a boyfriend before or someone as close as a boyfriend. I fell in love thrice in different guys in my twenty five years of life and each was never the same. I am more mature each time. Can you blame me if they weren't? Some says I should do this thing called fling or hooking up but I don't want to. It wasn't for me. I don't like to waste time dating guys I can never marry.

Come on, my belief that I am boring proved wrong. People love to talk with me. I know things to keep up on any topic preferences. I don't think it's my physical looks either. Some says I'm cute and pretty. I have a stable job. I do think I'm living healthy. Is it me? Is it because it's just not the time yet? Is the one for me have some serious illness or is already dead?

But as odd as I am, I know in my heart that I am not afraid to be single for the years to come. I couldn't imagine myself raising children. Children are expensive. They are yours one day then poof, before you know it, they're gone. They become people you don't know, eventually. I believe it's part of being a parent but that is not something I have knowledge of yet. But I believe love is sacred. I believe that if someone is for you then its for you.  There's this invisible string that connects the two of you and its getting shorter as the days go by. I believe that one day if the two of you finally met, the string is short but tighter until it explodes and form a heart that the two of you will share. It is always a matter of time. I believe in the myth that our soul is divided in two and we spend many years of our life looking for the other half, only when we found the other half could we finally go beyond the happiness of this life. And I believe that there are those that have their soul as one. I like to think mine is created that way. I think I will never marry and have children because life for me, is greater than that. There is more I could do than becoming a wife and a mother. But who knows? Who knows what the days ahead has in store.

A TIME LIKE THAT

It was when the weather is between it would rain and maybe it wouldn't. When you were out under the open sky. When the wind brushing your beauty-creamed face doesn't hurt. When you never mind the sun peeking through the clouds and touching your skin. It was when your mind momentarily forgets all the deadlines and bills. When you know that all the ones you love are okay. When you suddenly believe that you are where you always wanted to be. It was when you look up, take a deep breath and feel an innate feeling that maybe despite all the violence and injustice you heard, watched last night and read in social media, maybe, just maybe there is still so much good, so much kindness and loving in this world. And that is how it is. It is like that before you were born and it will be like that even if you were not around anymore. It is when you suddenly become aware that you are one with the universe. You would know what I mean by then. You would know that it is during those moments, within that fraction of time, is exactly a good time to die.