THE SKY IS NOT THE LIMIT

I love pizza and coffee. But just last night when I had both of it for dinner, I realized I don’t love it the same way as before.

A few months ago, I make my coffee a little bit sweet but since last March, I don’t add that much sugar to my coffee anymore. There are even days that I would prefer my coffee black. And my mom noticed that small change, even making a joke out of it.

But what really bothers me the most is that I’m not as enthusiastic when I see pizza on the table.

Pizza has always been my favorite comfort food and it’s a thing that I got from my father. I still remember those weekly Yellow Cab back when we were in elementary and then that weekly Shakey’s delivery when we were in high school.

I have always loved pizza. But now, it tastes bland to me. May it be Yellow Cab or Shakey’s. Even Pizza Hut has failed to satisfy me.

I understand my changing palate, but it hurts. To know that my love for the stuff that used to make me inexplicably happy isn’t the same anymore.

I found myself staring at the chalkboard that a few minutes ago was spotless but is now a monstrosity filled with formulas, solutions and equations. I blinked and looked around, how long did I space out again?

Before our professor could erase the solutions, I hurriedly took a picture of the board and started taking down notes. I can’t space out in class again or my academic performance would start to suffer. But as much as I want control, I can’t stop myself from losing focus and daydreaming.

If you can even call those morbid thoughts as daydreams.

I’ve been thinking of hurting myself again. Just to escape this void in my chest that is consuming me. But I promised my friends I would stop it already. I already have too many scars on my wrists.

How about making a mark at a place that no one else but I can see?

I shook my head. Nope. I should just focus on our class instead. But my head is starting to hurt again. How can I focus with this pain?

As soon as our professor dismissed us, I made my way home. Head throbbing, I walked slowly, looking at my feet. I must have bumped into a few people on my way because I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.

When I got to our house, I went straight to the kitchen. It’s already past lunch time but I haven’t eaten yet. And the only thing I had for breakfast is a cup of coffee. I know I should be hungry by now but I can’t feel anything at all. No hunger, no thirst. Just the throbbing of my head and the unescapable feeling of exhaustion.

My mom and my friends would probably scold me if they learned that I haven’t been eating well so just to appease the guilty feelings that I have, I took an apple and a bottle of water to the living room. I opened the television and changed the channel to the news.

A couple of minutes in and I’m already fuming at the news that I’m watching. Stupidity here and there. Stupidity everywhere. Gods, I hate this place. I hate this country. I hate this world. Why am I even here? I just want to die just to get away from all these bad news that I’m seeing on TV.

I turned the god forsaken television off and threw my half eaten apple in the trash can. I can’t force myself to eat. I feel like I’ll just throw up if I continue.

My bed looks inviting as ever, but I haven’t had a good sleep in a while. Even with my constant exhaustion, it takes me a couple of hours before I can fall asleep and because of my nightmares, I wake up almost instantly.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I catch sight of myself from the mirror on my cabinet door. I look like a mess. Like ice cream that fell on the floor; a huge disappointment and lump of pain waiting to be mopped away.

Beside my bed is a pile of unopened books that I’ve been meaning to read. But I’ve lost interest on reading a couple of weeks ago. And I still don’t feel like reading now.

So what do I do? I can’t sleep, eat, study or read to pass time. What do I do?

From behind my pile of books is a stack of paper that I know I should be cleaning up. Half of those papers are just random sketches and notes that I should be throwing away to reduce the clutter but because of my inherent laziness, I just haven’t gotten around to doing it.

But what really caught my attention is the handle of my pocket knife that I’ve been using as a letter opener. It’s sticking out like it wants me to take hold of it and slash something open. My veins, for instance.

I pick up the pocket knife and looked at all the scars on my arm.

Nope. I can't. They’ll know.

I look at myself on the mirror, holding the small pocket knife.

I’m exhausted. I just want to take a rest. I just want to sleep. I just want to stop feeling this void in my chest. I just want to stop everything that hurts.

There are different kinds of readers that can be found on Wattpad. And here’s a bunch of letters I wrote for them.

Reklamador (complainer),

You always pester me with the “Bitin!” comment even though my update was more than four thousand words long. It seems to me that your unquenchable thirst for my story compelled you to leave a slightly insulting one word comment on my recent chapter without further thought into the fact that I left my chapter like that as a plot device. And honestly, I’m not the only writer who leaves their readers wanting more.

Nevertheless, when I find myself in a good mood, I still do appreciate the time you gave typing and leaving that comment. The content may be without doubt, disappointing, but at least you let me know that you’re still reading my works despite my almost cruel approach to leaving you guys excited for my next updates.

While I’m writing this in a good mood, I still do hope you’ll grow up to be a different kind of reader, preferably one who leaves a more insightful comment.

Atat (excited),

You’re the type of reader that is enthusiastic to read more of the story. You often leave me with comments of, “update na please!” even though I just updated a few hours or days ago--- your worse kind commenting so in less than an hour from my posting.

Your eagerness to learn what happens next is understandable. It means you’re hooked with my story but sometimes, it hurts me to see you leave such comments. It’s as if you do not appreciate my recent chapter and all you want is more. It’s as if you do not understand that my life does not revolve around Wattpad, and all you want me to do is write for your entertainment.

I have explained myself time and time again as to why it takes me so long to update or why I don’t have a writing schedule available. And I’m exhausted. I have already spent so much time defending myself from your kind that I just hope that one day, like reklamador, you will grow up to be a different kind of Wattpad reader.

Silent Readers,

Now you and your kind are what I like to call the ghosts of Wattpad. We all know you’re there, but you rarely show yourself to us. You’re unaccustomed to following authors. You don’t leave votes on the books that you read. You have a thought in mind that you never take the time to write into a comment. And your worst kind are the ones who frequent Wattpad but does not even have the time to create an account.

While I do understand that you’re in Wattpad for the purpose of your reading enjoyment, as a writer, we want to know our reader’s response to our work. Did you like it or hate it? What areas of writing do you think we should improve? Is there something in the chapter that you noticed was incorrect or weird or downright confusing? What’s in your mind and why don’t you let us know?

But your kind has always been my personal challenge. Because if there’s one thing I learned in my few years of writing in Wattpad, it’s that you would only show yourselves to us when our work has made you feel the extreme. Either that’s excitement, kilig, happiness, sadness, or utmost empathy for the characters.

I’ve already lost count of the silent readers that I managed to call out with my works, but it has always been my pleasure to read a comment or a message from your kind.

Manghuhula (forecaster),

Now this is the Wattpad reader type that makes me laugh almost all the time. They’re the ones who are so engrossed by the story that while patiently waiting for my next update, they’re exploring the possibilities of what might happen next. They’re so enthusiastic that they sometimes create a conversation with fellow readers on my comments section or on my message board to discuss their theories.

Oh, how I love reading their theories. They are sometimes my personal reminder that I’m either giving away too much information or I’m not giving away anything at all. I love it most when they’re in the dark, that no matter how many chapters I write, they still can’t figure out what’s going to happen next. It helps me with writing an unpredictable story.

So, hugs to all of you that are classified into this type. Please don’t stop making me laugh with your sometimes absurd theories, or making me smile when you guess something almost right. Thank you also for engaging with fellow readers on my comments section and on my message board.

The fan,

They say “save the best for last”, and so I did. This last one type of reader is what I love the most in Wattpad. They’re the ones who follow you, votes all your stories and leaves a thoughtful message or comment once in a while. They are the ones who understand you the most and probably the ones who enjoys your works the most, too.

I love them because they’re special to me. They support my works with all that they can and honestly, I probably would have stopped writing in Wattpad if it weren’t for them. They are the ones who will show every writer out there that you will encounter critics on the way, but you will also gain friends, fans and followers who will understand you, support you, defend you and love you with all their might. They are the ones who will show you that if there’s a reason to stop, there’s also a reason to continue.

So, if you’re classified to this type, please know that I love you. Actually, every other writer out there loves your type. You and your kind will always be the reason why the art of writing stories will never die out. Because to a seedling, you are like water and sunlight. You help us grow into plants, or flowers, and maybe even trees. Without your kind, we would probably die out.

You can classify yourself with my descriptions or you can be a bit like everyone. I know I should have added more categories for the ones who doesn’t fit quite right on one of the abovementioned but maybe I’ll just reserve that thought for the future. For now, I hope you appreciate this.

I stared at myself on the mirror, not surprised by the sad face staring back. The bags I have under my eyes, darker than ever, the pimples an annoying red in color.

My black hair pulled into a messy tie, a few strands over my face. I thought to myself, “I look like an absolute mess.”

What am I even doing? I should be preparing for school. But here I am, staring at myself on the mirror, wondering how to look okay when I’m not.

I sat there, on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank wall, not a serious thought it mind. It’s four in the morning and you lie asleep beside me, covered from shoulders to toe by a thin maroon blanket that was barely enough for the two of us earlier that night.

I have an essay due in a few hours that I haven’t started yet but I didn’t feel guilty of writing it last minute because I’ve been pondering about it’s contents for the past few days, when I have nothing else to do but think. All I need now is the silence of the early morning and I’m sure I can finish this in an hour or so.

I felt a shiver run along my arms and I decide to lower down the fan. It’s a cold January morning. Too cold for my liking. But then again, I never really liked the temperature dropping down below twenty-five degrees. I was always the girl who liked the warm side of the pillow and the steaming hot coffee in the mornings. I am not one of those who always preferred the cold side of the pillow and an iced coffee to go.

You pulled the blanket closer to you and I wondered about what or who are you dreaming of. A few days ago you told me you’ve been dreaming about her and I’m not sure if I should be jealous of the idea that it’s not me you’re dreaming of anymore.

I picked up your laptop and turned it on, blinking against the sudden bright light against my face. Turning away, I focused on you instead, trying my best to fight the jealous thoughts by thinking that maybe you’re dreaming of me instead. Me and our future together. Or maybe me and the start of our romance. It was always a good thought.

But then it also ached me to think of the past for it’s possible that you’re dreaming of a different past. Your past with her. And it hurts. It hurts because I’m hurting myself and you’re barely helping me with the pain.

It’s funny that I have studied in schools that have the same colors. In Laguna, my school’s colors were a dark shade of green. As green as the grass on the golf course where I remember my father teaching us how to play badminton after attending church. As green as the needles of the pine trees that surrounded the golf course. And as green as the paint on my old badminton racket.

When we left Laguna and moved to Taguig, I knew in my heart that I will ache for the school that taught me how to read and write. I knew that I will miss the friends that I made there and I will sorely miss the familiarity that everyone has of each other in such small community.

The school we transferred to in Taguig is located beside an ancient Spanish built church. Naturally, the director of the school is a priest and a lot of the school’s teachings are religious of nature. The school is named after Saint Anne, mother of Mary and its colors are yellow, brown and white. Which I think are very earthly. Yellow and brown like the drying color of leaves after a summer drought. Like the colors of a white fungi, growing on a brown tree that when you crack open is actually a bright yellow.

The transition from the springtime color green to the autumn-like colors of yellow and brown reflected every little girl’s forced adaptation to the new environment after a move. From my lively childhood persona, I had to retract and watch our new village, looking for possible new playmates and trying my best to familiarize myself with the maze-like streets of the Metro. After the initial move, the rest of my elementary life was like a long winter. I drifted from one group to the other, my academic performance was average, my school participation was minimal. I was a wallflower and only when I got to high school did I begin to wake up from my long slumber. Thanks to my new barkada, my Honor student status and of course, Genesis.

Genesis was the bullet that pierced my thick hide and spilled red blood everywhere. She woke up the hibernating bear in me. And that bear wreaked havoc in St. Anne, making sure she will be remembered. High school was my moment of glory.

Anyway, after graduating high school, I moved on to college by entering La Salle. The land of the green and white and home to the Green Archers (or Lady Spikers, if you prefer them). After my accomplishments in the yellow colored St. Anne, I thought moving on to another green school would mean spring time has come for me.

Oh, my sweet summer child...

The first few months were exhilarating but it was short lived because by the end of my first term, I was finally cracking up to the pressure of maintaining my scholarship, my good health and my family’s expectations. When I received my first ever failing grade, it left a permanent crack on me that would eventually open me wide after another term of failure and my father’s eventual demise. I didn’t attend that year’s third term because of my broken heart and my broken ego.

It’s a petty excuse to break, I know. But I returned to uni after a few months of recovery-- and I did a lot better than before. I joined the Animo Squad, regained a portion of my thirst for knowledge and I met Nicole.

My father’s death would be the black era of my life and my return to La Salle was like the grey era. Funny because I think that was one of Nicole’s favorite colors and she was one of the highlights of that year.

But grey isn’t so far from black and halfway through my fifth and last term in La Salle, I was so exhausted by everything in general that I had come to the point that I considered suicide to get out.

So what happened during the second half of 2014 and the first quarter of 2015 that led me to my depression? A lot. But I’ll spare you the details by telling you that I messed up.

And that’s when I decided to stop. To take a break. To breathe some fresh air. And forget everything that I can possibly forget.

I waved the white flag and surrendered. Because I wasn’t okay anymore and if I continued pushing, I’ll be pushing myself six feet below the ground. You probably didn’t hear much from me the rest of 2015 because that year, I took a gap year.

During the white era of my life, I took up a job as a call center agent to finance my plans of travelling and eating and to have a good excuse for sleeping most of the day. But it wasn’t all white because soon after I surrendered, I met Ciel.

Now, Ciel is like a punch in the face after you have made a terrible mistake. She woke up all my senses and told me to “Get a grip”, but not really forcing me to get on with it. She understood that I needed my white era. She knew I needed my rest. But she’s also my personal reminder that after my gap year, I have to pick up from where I left off because I have to finish my studies.

2015 passed and 2016 came. As my non-existent school year is about to end, I have made my decision to transfer out of La Salle as it proved that I was doing no good in the place. I left my work and prepared my papers for my new school. Another yellow school in the guise of TIP-QC.

My gap year and my decision to transfer turned out to be good for me. With Ciel and my family’s continuous support for me, I am now flourishing again. Like a little sunflower blooming to the new summer after an extended winter.

Because I realized that I haven’t opened my Tumblr in a while, I thought maybe getting the app would help me get back on track.

Let’s see how’s that going to work out for me.

Day 18: August 20, 2015 (Thursday)

To Raegan Luces,

Your entirety was based off of my personality. I wanted to be a polymath, I wanted to be rich, I wanted to be tall and talented and good looking. You are the person I dreamed I was. But I'm not.

When I was writing Split Genius, I found your character quite intriguing. I thought of so many things that you could do. I spent so many hours thinking of what you would do on certain situations. Until one day, I just realized, you're fictional. You're not real. And you'll never come to flesh.

I may be the closest person that could be like you but I don't want to anymore. Because I love myself. I love the uniqueness that I have. You will always be a part of me and I will always be a part of you. I am you and you are me. But we are still two different people.

Split Again would be your last book but I will always thank you for introducing me to so many people. Thank you for being my instrument to spread the lessons I want other people to learn. Thank you for coming alive in the online pages of Wattpad.

You have made me eternal and I, in turn, made you immortal. Ars longa, vita brevis!

Day 17: August 19, 2015 (Wednesday)

To my old friend back in Laguna,

I remember back in 2010 when I was watching kuya browse in Facebook about the elementary school we used to attend in Laguna. I saw your name listed on the people who liked the page. As soon as Kuya let me used the laptop, I looked up the school's page again and looked for your name in the listed likers.

Before that day when I found your Facebook profile, the last time I had contact with you was way back in 2004 so finding my way back to you was like going home to a place I have left so long ago.

I sent you a friend request and as soon as I got the notification that you accepted it, I messaged you. I missed you and the life I had before we moved to Taguig.

Years has passed by and we don't really message or chat each other online anymore. But we remained Facebook friends, liking each other's posts whenever we happen to see it on our newsfeeds.

I know you're doing well in college seeing that you're a dean's lister despite taking up the same program as I am. You've never changed in that one aspect. You're still an honor student to the very core.

I hope I see you the next time I visit Laguna. I'll treat you to lunch or merienda if you'll tour me around the place. I used to wander around the neighborhood back when I was a kid but I know there's a lot of places around there that I haven't gone to yet. Do me a favor and help me rediscover my hometown, will you?

Day 16: August 18, 2015 (Tuesday)

To my best friend in Canada,

Hey, Kitty Kat! How's the weather up there? I've been seeing your photos in Facebook where you're wearing nice dresses. I also noticed how you've grown beautiful in the time you have spent there. Oh well, you've always been beautiful anyways. I guess Canada was just one of the reasons you bloomed.

I remember when you surprised us back in March by silently slipping back into the country without notifying any of us. When I saw you that Sunday in Sta. Ana, I rushed to you and with a bone crushing hug, I carried you away from your seat just so I can hug you better. Before that, the last time I saw you was a year ago and we were crying our eyes out because we thought it would be another two years before we see each other again.

It all makes sense why you were working your ass off back in Canada. You were actually saving up for your plane ticket. Gods, I'd like to do that too in the future. Travel to somewhere with my hard earned money. Hopefully, not alone.

Anyways, our promise to call each other on Skype every month has been postponed for several months now. Care to try again this coming weekend? What time are you free?

Day 15: August 17, 2015 (Monday)

To the person I miss the most,

Daddy,

It's been more than a year now. I terribly miss you. I miss hearing your jolly laugh. I miss playfully punching your arm. I miss glaring at you for your corny jokes. I miss caressing your large belly. I miss watching movies with you and finding you asleep midway.

I miss you, dad. And it hurts that I can't hug you anymore.

Your death left us stranded in the middle of the sea during a horrible storm. The torrential rain felt like bullets in our bodies, the violent winds felt like they wanted to blow us to netherland and the relentless sea felt like it wanted to swallow us whole. Before all that, when you were still alive, you were our anchor that made sure of our safety.

Is the gods really so cruel as to take somebody who deserved so much more than an early death?

But then again, they say that when you enter a rose garden, you pick up the most loveliest rose you'll find. And dad, you were the loveliest flower in the garden.

How is the afterlife so far? Have you seen Nanny yet? What about Lolo or Tito Ian and the others? Have you seen them there in the other side? If yes, please do send them my love. I miss them, too. But I miss you most.

By the way, Dad. I found myself a girlfriend and I can't wait to introduce her to you. Some day, I'll take her to Calauag so that I can show you the lady that is making me happy. I know you'll love her. She's quite easy to love, actually.

Daddy, visit me in my dreams some time. I have so much more to tell you.

Hello to my wonderful girlfriend who is missing my posts online!

Alam ko na alam mo naman kung bakit minsan na lang ako magpost. Pero isang sabi mo lang gagawan kaagad kita ng post :)

Gusto ko lang sabihin sayo na namiss ko matulog sa tabi mo saka soooooobrang bitin nung pagpunta natin sa Calauag. Hayaan mo, babalik tayo ng summer vacation para mas sulit yung punta natin ha?

Sky, thank you for coming with me to Calauag to see my dad. You have no idea (or maybe you do) how much that means to me. Ang tagal ko na kasing gusto iharap ka sa puntod niya. And now that I’ve introduced you to him na, feel ko nakuha na natin yung blessing ng family ko :)

Ang sarap ng feeling, Sky. Na kahit alam kong some of my family are having doubts about this relationship, they’re letting us be happy with each other. When the time comes, I know, they’ll understand us better and their doubts will be erased. Kahit hindi tayo naniniwala sa forever, metaphorically, papatunayan natin yan HAHAHA

About dun sa nangugulo satin sa ask.fm? Let’s ignore them and just focus on the good stuff. Alam ko trip mo din magtaray sa mga lechugas na ‘yun but stop na ah? Kulang kasi sila sa pansin. Wag na natin ibigay yung satisfaction na yun. Tingnan mo nga oh, ever since you turned off the anonymous option nawala na sila. That’s because they don’t have the guts to face us as they are. Malakas lang loob nila kasi hidden sila. Jealous na nga, insecure pa. But enough of that shit. There are more important stuff to think about.

Like what? Like our plans for Christmas!

I know, ang aga pa. But honestly, time flies by when you’re having fun kaya ngayon pa lang tatanungin na kita. What do you want for Christmas? (Aside from me, of course. HAHAHA) I still don’t know kung saan kami magcecelebrate ng Christmas but I hope we’ll be in Manila para pwede kita puntahan :)

Wala na ako masabi HAHAHA

Next time na yung iba ah?

I love you. Te quiero. Ego semper amabo te. Mahal kita, sobra.

Day 14: August 16, 2015 (Sunday)

To the people I wish could forgive me, the people who can’t understand me,

I have my own opinions about a lot of things and a lot of people have trouble understanding them. And the way I say stuff isn’t really helping because I’m way too straightforward and kind of insensitive. But all I really want to tell people is that I don’t mean to offend anyone. All I want to do is correct the stuff that I see are wrong because I’m kind of wired to do such things. I don’t really like it when I see something that isn’t supposed to happen.

I’m writing this letter not to say sorry for trying to correct everything that I can try to do something about but I’m here to say sorry for the way I’m trying to do it.

I’m sorry for being too harsh, straightforward and insensitive. I’m still trying to work those stuff out. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m attacking you personally, I assure you, I’m not trying to do that.

I don’t know what to say anymore but again, I apologize for the way that I talk.