ron things

OR more precisely, since I met her, I haven't been writing in my journal.

Ilang taon ko ring inilagay sa sulok, tago, at hindi nasisikatan ng araw ang pag-ibig.

Regalo ko na sa sarili ko ang palayain ito, hayaang lumipad, at abutin ang langit, papunta sa iyo.

It's crazy to think how you entered my life on a whim. I was completely unprepared for it. But I welcomed your presence because admittedly, I have grown fond of it. Your smile, the way you talk, your judging pretty eyes, the strength of your character. And petty enough, your scent is the cherry on top. You have swept me off my feet. I didn't know the exact words to describe how I felt about you, but it doesn't cost me anything to give it a shot.

i'm still keeping one of the pills that i bought, from more than a year ago, for the insomnia, from the heartbreak that you gave me, one pill is a boulder pressed against my body, the more i try to surrender to the weight, the less i succeed, perhaps the pills were not the answer. as time swallowed the night, my eyes stayed awake, the pills wouldn't help, so i cried myself to sleep.

I count all the means to look at you and I lose count all the time because there are a handful of ways but not one that doesn't hurt

I lay now on the hammock that grandpa has mounted by the trunks of the Molave tree that's older than I and I marvel at the beauty of the leaves because they have learned to live through the heat of the sun

can the leaves teach me how to handle a little fire?

At 13, I feared for this day to come. Knowing that death is one of the few things that are certain, I always tried to sleep beside you whenever I visited your old home, whose rotten wooden floor had known my footsteps. My soul is versed in your presence. I have grown acquainted with your scent with my eyes closed. But it escaped my mind that the strands of your hair were slowly turning gray, and when your lips curved into a smile, you were silently perishing. I was running out of time.

At 16, I have known warmth with the touch of your hand, and tender, loving, care, with your savory adobo that I have never learned how to cook. I have known strength with the tears that fell from your eyes and wisdom from the stories that you told.

At 19, the day that I have feared has come. My fingers shivered as I traced your curly gray hair. Through my shaking hands, I cupped your pale face and cried, watching that blood had left your lips. With tears running down my face, I sang your name without ceasing, as if exhausting my lungs would bring you back.

I feel lost now that you are not around because you have known me better than I have known myself. You have understood the exact words that would pierce through my guarded heart to force the pressure out of my veins. Then, I have known calm. Now, what do I do? Who do I tell about my dreams now that you have left?

i never loved any meal more than breakfast, more than the freshly brewed coffee and the occassional grilled cheese sandwich that i make when i begin to lose control of my life's structure.

i am generally forgetful but i remember exactly how i like my coffee:

when the flavorful caffeinated liquid touches my tongue, the subtle sweetness should trace my mouth like Aphrodite enticing the mortals of this world in a graceful span of her hand. the bitterness that i desire should resemble that of my intense attachment to all things unconventional and never superficial. deeply seated at the bottom of my cup is my yearning for the perfect balance of sweet and bitter, of gracefulness and depth.

I could be selfish if I tell you what I feel with no other intention but to unload my heart of emotions that I could not explain. I could be wrong if I tell you only to find out that these emotions are mere infatuation. I could be bad and leave you hanging because I am scared to see how you would react to my insensibility. So, I'd choose to bottle these up this time because I could be selfish, wrong, and bad.

i've always loved the tacit serenity of 3:00 AM's it brings me peace and calms me internally and deeply like the sound of zebra doves it's as if living in a world within which time moves without haste a space within is filled, and a tranquil town within my heart emerges