Get Inked by the Stars

I want you to know that I miss you— not because you became like the wind when I was grasping for reasons to live, nor because of the countless oceans that inevitably stop me from sinking my soul into the warmth of your arms, nor the silence that tunes out all the words that we would have told each other had the world been a bit less bustling and a bit more tranquil. I miss you, not because I feel like you’ve already run out of love to give but because I know with all certainty that love is an ornament to every aspect of your being and I’ve long since used it to luster my smile with more joy whether you were within arms’ reach or hours among the clouds away from where I was. I miss you, even in moments where I’d see you laugh from across the room because of inside jokes that only we would understand or I’d put my head on your shoulder as we wandered the depths of our hearts and swam in our sea of tears together— even if we lit up the whole neighborhood with our silly loud songs until the wee hours of the night or have conversations fueled by coffee and emotion deep in the heart of the dark, I would still wake up the next day feeling like it was nothing but a dream and I would find myself wanting to go back to sleep just so I could be with you once more only for the sunlight streaming through my windows to remind me that everything was indeed a slice of my reality and I was just a bit too much in disbelief to accept that the bliss engulfing such times could actually be mine to look back on should I ever need a rope to pull me up each time I drown in the gloom pooling in my mind. The world sometimes paints the portrait of missing someone with heavy strokes of sadness and grief but I make mine with all the colors of your smile and thoughts that fervently hope for the sun in our yesterdays to rise on all our tomorrows. You can say that it’s funny; perhaps even absurd to yearn so much for you when you have always been there but I guess it can’t be helped more so when each passing second that adorns our moments together unfailingly presents a chance for my heart to gravitate towards you and bask in the light that emanates from its every piece of gold. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder but I find myself growing in fondness of you even inside rooms that shelter both our souls— truly, there’s no such thing as too much time when you’re in the presence of the right person and the clocks in the world will cease to exist if they dare to keep track of all the hours that I desire to spend with you. In a world where the cries of goodbyes are competing fiercely with the pleasant sound of everyday hellos, you add a spark of forever to my smile— you make me feel an infinity of happiness in the finitude that makes up this lifetime and for that, I’ll always miss you— for that, I’ll always love you.

If I could, I would rearrange the stars in the night and put the one with my name next to the moon for I would do anything to chase the light that mirrors the sun in my serene afternoons

And you are my light; my hope in the dark so I can’t say I fully understand this distance— for I’d love nothing more than to ignite this spark and give you all my love in every instance.

9/365

Dear friend, I’m either falling into the abyss of my mind or banking on the memories I have spent with you but your eyes seem to hold bliss of a certain kind that shelters many different shades of blue. I can hear your laughter harmonize with the crowd but it comes off as a vintage record on rewind— vicarious odes turned up to a volume so loud it drowns out the sad songs playing from deep inside. You said you got your pillows as your getaway and I’ve heard that way too many times before but the storms still drag on through the day even when the sun is peeking through your door. I can only get a grasp of what I have been told so there is surely more than meets the eye but I know you’re not meant to be in the cold; watch sunflowers freeze until they die. You may feel like you have reached the end and you have run out of sceneries to admire but the road is just broken and not bent, and you have enough fuel to start a fire. The silence does not mean your downfall and the empty hours can still bring forth light you cannot go wrong with heeding love’s call and letting your heart shine in the night. There’s so much to unravel in the present so keep all your tomorrows in its place bask in the now and cherish every second; your soul belongs to spring and summer days. And if your dreams bid goodbye upon the sunrise— smile, for you have seen another chapter unfold. Dear friend, remembering this would be wise: You are golden, even without a hand to hold.

8/365

When I say I was enchanted to meet you, I did not mean that we were clad in ball gowns and frock coats during our first encounter—there were no sparkling wings to admire, nor were there ethereal lights that illuminated the room where we found ourselves in. You and I were both too rooted in faith and truth to believe that fairytales exist, so we were not pulled into that instance by treasure boxes or some sort of preternatural force. In reality, it was just us—two strangers standing a measure of distance away from each other, oblivious to the conversation that they would be having some time later. There was nothing magical nor extraordinary about it—and yet, the feeling that I got upon knowing what your name was I still carry to this day. No word could phrase out in accurate detail how it was like to meet you; all I knew was that it had me writing about love as if I had known it perfectly all my life.

It goes without saying that I found you beautiful, although I feel like that in itself isn’t enough to describe the marvel that you are. You were more than that lovely song that I heard at the grocery store a few days ago, or the movie that had everybody talking for a while—you were not a mere few seconds in time. You were beautiful in the most profound and long-lasting sense, like a timeless piece of art in a museum that was meant to stay throughout history. You were beautiful past beyond all that the naked eye could capture, and every part of you seemed to relay a cliffhanging story because it had me dreaming about you on the nights that followed. I had met a lot of people in this lifetime, but no one of them had tugged at my heartstrings quite as much as you did—only you could spark so much sensation of joy just by flashing a hint of your dazzling smile.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I feel like I will still find myself missing you even in spaces that hold us in close proximity—I guess there really is no such thing as too much time when you’re with the right person. Perhaps it’s a bit absurd to feel this way toward someone who has barely scratched the surface of your life, but there was just something about you that hit home in more ways than one. You made me feel as though I could tear down all my walls without the urge of building them all up again out of fear that my vulnerability would just get trampled on by reckless impressions—with you, I felt like it was worth it to muster up the courage to speak, and it seemed to be the only thing that felt right to do.

When I say I was enchanted to meet you, I did not mean that you were too good to be true—you were indescribably beautiful, but you were just within arms’ reach, and seeing your smile made me realize that things could not get any more real than this. I could inch closer so I could hold your hand in mine, but I knew it was all too soon for that so I opted to just fix my feet on where they were. In the meantime, it was more than enough for me to know that out of the countless time periods in which I could live, I get to breathe at the same time and in the same place as you.

I was enchanted to meet you—I was beyond myself with elation and delight to discover that someone as precious and soul-stirring as you actually existed. I don’t know where life will lead us after that fleeting encounter, but there’s a part of me that is desperately hoping that you will still be the same person the next time we meet—one whose love is still held protectively by your heart, with nobody from the sidelines waiting for you to give it away. But whether that happens or not, I want you to know that I will always deem it an honor that you got to have a place in my life, even for just a short while.

And I hope, in one way or another, you feel the same way too.

spilled (7/365)

I meant to keep this love in a bottle; throw it into the stillness of the sea but the waves brought it back to the shore and landed near your footprints on the sand. You grazed its surface gently before pulling out the cork and I could only watch from afar as you got the rolled-up paper from inside it— the very one on which my heart had translated  your eyes into breathtaking sunrises and your smiles into calming strolls on a moonlit night. Time seemed to have walked into winter  in those seconds when you took my heart off my sleeve so you could hold it in the palm of your hand; I was only supposed to say your name in whispers, not bellow it into the vastness of the universe because the world gave you love in thorns and not rose petals and I would never want you to cover up your wounds with flowered bandages when they were still begging to be accepted for what they were. I was perfectly fine with knowing that there was a point in this journey   that we were looking at the same sky at the same time but the sea must have become tired of capturing all my reflections of bliss every time I caught sight of you that he decided to just bring every word that I spoke behind closed doors to where you were. And it terrified me, for lack of a better word, to know that you finally knew just how much you meant to me but I saw you read the letters in the same way that you admire a plain white wall; you put the paper back inside the bottle and carried on with feeling the wind in your skin and it should have given me a measure of relief that you did not give it much thought but from afar, I was standing with a weight on my shoulders that I could not make sense of— and maybe, just maybe, I was even more terrified to realize that my heart could possibly be thrown into the void of all the other ones that you had to break because you first needed to heal your own— something that I have always tried to understand ever since. So into the vastness of the universe, I will just whisper the hurt that comes with knowing that we will just be another page in your book but I want you to know that this pain is quite like the tears that we shed as children when we scraped our knees— all too natural; purely inevitable but not enough to paralyze us from getting back up and walking again. I can’t flip over to the narratives of tomorrow when I’m still within the tales of today but whether I get to hold your hand or not at the end of it all, I will never forget how your eyes held so much of the morning sun or the way your smile brings me peace in the same way that the moon guides a wandering soul on a dark night. I will never, even for one second, forget just how immensely beautiful you are despite all the storms that you’ve had to endure just to get a hint of the light that you have now. I meant to keep this love in a bottle, but I’ll let the waves carry it over to you over and over again; past beyond all the moments of hesitation and the sleepless nights and the chances of heartbreak, so that you will always be reminded that you are deeply and truly loved for all that you are and for all that it’s worth.

At thirty minutes past the tenth hour of the night, he rose from his bed and opened his windows. 

It was becoming a part of his evening routine—to temporarily put aside all thoughts of rest just so he could admire the breathtaking scenery that the night holds. There was something about that grand canvas of deep blue and silver that never ceased to amaze him; it brought him a sense of excitement and joy that was beyond his ability to define. He didn’t know when, where, or how it started, but all he knew was that the moon was his most trusted confidant and the stars had always been a witness to all the stories that only he could tell behind closed doors. The night was his safe haven, and never once did it fail to give him a sweet feeling of home. 

He was used to the moon being in the company of a few stars, but in that moment, only two characters were present in the tale of the night: the moon, and a lone light shining some distance away from it—planet Venus, he eventually realized. It was an unexpected sight, but he had no difficulty in embracing it since he had always been fond of finding beauty even in the simplest of things. There was something so extraordinary about the ordinary, and the night at that particular hour was no exception. It was beautiful—simple, but mesmerizingly beautiful. 

“Like her,” a voice at the back of his mind suddenly echoed—much to his surprise. He blinked a few times in an attempt to compose himself, but his heart hit rewind faster than a bolt of lightning that he had no choice but to mentally walk down the lane of memories that he thought he had long since forgotten. What started out to be a harmless period of relaxation suddenly became an opportunity to be reunited with the past, and he did not know how much longer of it he could take.

The first time they met, it was a bit crowded and bustling—and yet he felt as if she was the only person in the room the second he saw her face break into a smile. It was the very one that had him smiling in his sleep that night, and the one that he had yearned to see in the days after that. And when they introduced themselves to each other, he knew he was going to keep her name in his vocabulary for quite a while. 

She seemed like a maiden of modesty and lace, so when he saw her laugh while playing a game of cards with a few friends, he had to stop himself from getting lost in the joyful sound. It was then that he realized that she was willing to tear down her walls when she was in comfortable company, and a part of him wanted to think that she might actually be at ease with showing more of herself to him because he was among those whom she was playing with at the time. 

She had a soul that was full of warmth, but she had always been careful about getting too close to people—it felt as if she had parts of herself that needed to be taken care of, so that sent him the message that she was, for some reason, afraid to love. That is why despite days when the voices around them were screaming that they should inch closer to each other; in the seconds where he could have the chance to close the gap between her fingers with his, he opted to stay where he was and look from afar. No matter how badly he wanted what they had to mean so much more, he tried his hardest to make himself believe that knowing that he was existing at the same time as her was more than enough.

For years, that was what he did—he drew a line between his heart and her fears, careful not to let his yearning disregard all the unspoken scars that she needed to heal from. In silence and from a distance, he loved her—but that did not stop him from making her happiness a dream that he resolved to reach every chance he could get. Within the boundaries that he had willingly set, he did his best to make her feel his presence without making her feel that she had to give him something in return. 

A heavy feeling sunk from deep within him as he remembered the last time he saw her: she was still clad in modesty and lace, but this time around, she had roses in her hand. She walked across the room in her floor-length white dress, and her smile was still as beautiful as the first time he saw her. Nothing much had changed, including him—for in the moment that she had finally broken free from her fears and accepted love for what it truly was, he was still in silence and standing from afar. Just when he thought that the timing couldn’t be any more perfect to tell her that he had always been firm about making her happy forever, she decided to keep herself safe in the arms of a man that he could only dream was him. And because she was in a crowd of excited people who wanted to wish her well, she could only look over her shoulder and give him a smile that expressed all the gratitude that she had for all the times that he had been there for her. She locked eyes with him and mouthed a “thank you”—also in silence, and from afar.  

He might have waited too much or acted too late, but whatever the case was, he could only blame himself at the end of the day. She deserved to be happy, and it was his choice, although unconsciously, to stay inside his room and let her go without a fight. 

It was now thirty minutes past the eleventh hour, and the moon was still up in the sky with Venus. As he gazed at the sight before him, he wondered why they were so far away from each other. He was sure that science had a say in the matter, but he just could not help but feel like it would be much lovelier if the two luminaries could bridge the gap between them and shine together—just like how he and she would have been perfect if only time had been more patient and he had been more sensitive to its movement. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he accepted the sad reality that life won’t always go in the direction that he wants to—that not all the pieces that make up this lifetime are a right fit for one another, regardless of how beautiful that thought may seem to be.

He heaved a sigh as he wiped every drop of regret falling down his cheeks. “There will always be a distance between Venus and the moon,” he uttered weakly to the wind. 

He gave the sky one last glance before closing his windows and finally calling it a night. 

// Ijug x Tala

5/365

I have always believed that rainbows arise only upon the end of a downpour and so I, for the longest time, have chosen to brave the storm in hopes of seeing its colors shine in the eyes of a love that I used to hold— one that had me standing drenched for hours only to leave me cold and stranded on the streets with no other choice but to walk home alone. So when I finally woke up to a brand new day and met you in the light of the sun, I was already arming my heart with raincoats and boots because I thought there was possibly no way that I could just easily witness a sight so breathtaking without having to endure the skies’ erratic emotions for when they needed a shoulder to cry on— but then, you looked at me and smiled. I shared with you a piece of my soul that everyone knew and you willingly took it with a sparkle in your eyes that said that I could reveal more of those pieces if I wanted to. I was secretly walking on eggshells and you were simply sitting there; the weather was fine, and we were clad in our everyday wear but I felt the rainbow emerge from those seconds that enclosed us and I was almost tempted to dismiss it as a dream until your voice dragged me out of my thoughts and showed me that everything was real, after all. I have always believed that rainbows arise only upon the end of a downpour but you made me realize that I don’t always have to wade through floodwaters to see that solace can exist even without the chaos; that there is room for blissful stories and laughter even at the dawn of a promising bond; that it is possible for me to admire the universe in the presence of comfort and peace.   I can’t say I already know what this is exactly, but I want you to know that you are my happy place— and thank you for giving me a kind of happiness that allows me to let love unfold naturally without having to let go of myself.

4/365

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she basked in the countless strokes of oranges and yellows splashed across the skies in an artistic fashion. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she remarked. “Sunsets will never fail to take my breath away.”

He nodded, his eyes mirroring the same joy lighting up her face. “Yeah, they’re a sight to behold indeed.”

“If only we could always have an opportunity to witness something this beautiful.”

“You do have that though.” He tore his gaze away from the scenery to focus on her. “In fact, you get to have that opportunity every day.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What makes you say that?”

He smiled at her bewildered expression. “Because you’re here,” he said. “Because you get to live every waking day as yourself—someone whose heart and soul hold so much room for kindness and love. I don’t know how you manage to pull that off so effortlessly, but I’m always grateful for it.”

She felt the warmth of a blush slowly creeping over her face when she heard his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Perhaps it’s because we’ve been spending more time together than usual that’s why I’ve been oozing with inspiration lately.”

She gave him one more careful look before heeding the sunset’s call for attention once again. “You think too highly of me,” she replied, her voice coming off a bit quiet in an attempt to calm her loudly beating heart. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think I’m any of those things at all.”

“That’s because you’re not,” he agreed, making her look at him once more to find clarification for his seemingly contradicting statement. He chuckled at her confusion and carried on. “You’re not any of those things because they can only describe a portion of the person that you are,” he said. “Sunsets are calming, but they can never rival the way you soothe others with just a simple smile. The morning sun might back out when it sees the sparkle in your eyes when you do something that you love, and the moon could shine for as much as it wants to in the night sky but it could never hold a candle to the way you assure people that they deserve to see the light despite all the darkness that they’ve had to go through in this lifetime.”

Her beating heart suddenly seemed to crash to a stop. She could feel the waterworks coming, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment so she did the first thing that she thought could save her from crying: she inched closer and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I have to find a way to pacify this poetic side of yours,” she said, her voice trembling a little due to the threat of tears.

He chuckled as he returned the gesture of affection. “This is not just the poetry speaking,” he corrected. “This is also the irrevocable truth.”  He then pulled out of the embrace to look her in the eye. “You are incomparably beautiful,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing to ever exist in the universe. “And I am beyond elated to know that I don’t have to rush and chase afternoons anymore to see the beauty of the sunset, because so much of it is already in you. And I know it’s not an overnight task, but I hope and pray that in time, you will be able to see what I see too.”

A tear finally escaped her eyes, but she didn’t have the heart to care about it anymore. “Thank you,” she said.

She could never look at sunsets the same way ever again.

without a shadow of a doubt, your soul breathes through rimmed glasses and grainy parchments— by the corner of a moonlit room at midnight,  fingers stained with sentiments spoken only behind closed doors. it goes without saying that there’s a multitude of tales seeking refuge under those pretty curls and a whole lot of life being sheltered by that vintage dress; you’ve got a masterpiece in the palm of your hands and footsteps that could lead you to wondrous places   and everyone sees all these marvels— perhaps, except you. and I guess I know where you’re coming from; I know how difficult it is to fathom that mornings could greet a heart that has long been engraved   in sunsets and twilights but my darling, there’s a special kind of breathtaking that resides in the night; the stars continue to adorn the skies with their spark even when they are welcomed by an audience of resting ears and slumbering eyes, much like how you have always been beautiful despite the scars that you speak of in front of the mirror. and as you rise from your bed to tread this path toward the best life, may you always remember that you can be bright as the break of dawn in the same way that you hold so much calm as a still sea on an ordinary evening and you could choose to be either, and you’d still end up being loved. there is so much power in solitude, profound strength in faith, and dream in humility— and Jehovah God knows, above all that you are more than what you make yourself out to be; that you are beautiful even in moments where you find that hard to believe.

2/365

page 1/365

the night held the moon in a palette of misty hues and the world climbed mountains to see it up close but I had my legs underneath the dining table and my shoes were tucked somewhere near the front door. at an hour when souls were uttering promises of change built on countless memories of highs and lows, I found myself seated among these four dainty seats having breakfast for dinner with a nightgown over my body and my heart resting on serenity. I was at the end of the spectrum for I felt fine in accepting that it was just another day— firstly because of faith, and secondly, you. there was something about you that made the busy streets fall on deaf ears and the colorful skies an ordinary sight— perhaps it was how you cooked our meal, the way you prepared the pillows, the strong coffee that you made, or everything, all at once. with you around, I needed no steak and wine on the table nor fingers to interlock mine with at midnight because even the grandest of voices cannot make my soul feel like dancing in the wee hours the way your gleeful laughter did when we shared puns that ran on spontaneity. the world could make the greatest art to ever exist but they could never rival the way your smile made me realize that I was where I was supposed to be— that despite not being in my room, I could still feel a deep sensation of home. with you around, chasing change was a stroll by the seashore and not a deep ocean in which I had to struggle to breathe because you know that beautiful things take time and thorns don’t make roses any less beautiful. with you around, the sunlight could still stream through the windows even when the clouds fill the skies with sadness and cry a downpour of tears because it would be impossible for the storm to drench a heart that shelters mornings which spring from an 8-hour sleep and sway to the tune of a blissful song. the world deems this another book to be written but it’s just a flip over the next page for me because having you by my side assures me that memories can be succeeded by commas and semi-colons and happiness does not have to be followed by a period. thank you for making diamonds grow from improvised living room photoshoots, reheated leftovers for lunch, and heartfelt stories shared through the night. by faith, I held my ground in this place and by your love, I knew it was worth it— and as the next days stretch out to infinity, I know it will always be. thank you for making every day a blessing. and thank you for being a blessing— every day.

Jeans Under Petticoats

I see you’ve taken your heart off your sleeve so you can hold it in your hands— the very ones which used to be the sole occupant in the warmth of his palms. Bliss was always the souvenir that you took home from all your tranquil strolls by the seashore and the way his fingertips grazed your knuckles as you watched the sun sink into the horizon— and when he twirled you around under the starlight skies to the melody of the summer breeze and his heartbeat that echoed your name, you were sure you had found the outset of infinity and that you were going to race through life with him by your side. But sunsets don’t always hold the same colors; the waves could erase all your footprints on the sand and he loved you with a blazing passion, but not with utmost certainty— and while you wanted to pin your heart on your sleeve all your days, his fears shattered them into a broken heap that could only be held in the palm of your hands and not even your fondest memories nor your rainfall of tears could glue them all back together. He made eternity bloom in the summer but summer was just one of the seasons that had to come and go and he didn’t know that his farewell would take you on an unwelcome trip going fast forward from autumn to winter. He’s going to have to be another worn-out photograph now and you’re sitting by the fireplace, drinking chamomile tea while conversing with Loneliness who keeps bombarding you tactlessly with sentiments that make you question if you had really given it your all— if you had truly shown that he was your eternal choice; if you were ever going to be a befitting piece in someone’s portrait of forever. And my love, it’s beyond my control to make the darkness disappear but I can, at the very least, give you a few matches to light up the torch that you need to get through all this— ones whose spark is ignited by the hope that adorns your smile and the comfort that rests in your arms. He might have broken your dam of tears but I want you to know that every drop is a testimony of your strength and not a mere refuge for your pain; he might have taken away your chances to dance with him in the moonlight, but never will he rob you of all your chances to be happy in both the morning and the night because there are many more of those who firmly believe that you are too much of a sunflower to wallow in the wilderness alone. He’s just another lesson to be learned, not the words that conclude your story and though pain tends to take pride in making you feel paralyzed to go on, true love endures and believes all things so you could stay under the covers and think about how he has made up half your world but the other half won’t hold back from crossing the oceans just to fill the void that he had left with deep faith that you have everything that it takes to keep going. And someday soon, my love, you’ll look back on all your seconds by the seashore and realize that the hour of forgiveness has arrived and you’ll be able to smile at him again not out of a yearning for what could have been but gratitude for the happiness that he has made possible, no matter how fleeting it may be. And by then, you will see that no amount of brokenness can ever destroy all the reasons why you’re worth cherishing and staying for— that you deserve the same kind of genuine love that you’ve always been striving to give.

 If you’re reading this, I want you to know that I am still living—and that, in a nutshell, is exactly who I am now. If you are a stranger, you would probably just walk past me in a crowd of thousands; however, if you’re someone whose fondest memories have converged with mine at some point in time, you might stop dead in your tracks and look back for a split second or two just to ensure if you really just saw that girl whom you have conversed with the day we first met. You might raise an eyebrow in wonder, press your lips together in thought, and let your mind entertain a rhetorical yet curiosity-arousing question: “Is that really her?”

It’s not to say that I’m special enough to be one of your lasting memories, but you would probably think that a lot of changes have occurred since then—ones which dull the supposed sparkle that my given name holds, as well as that which my teenage narratives have always wanted myself to don. The climax has ended before it even got the chance to begin—I threw away all the teaching loads before I could even have one. I tore the plane ticket before I could even decide if I wanted to break away or not. I burned all the novels authored by me before I could even complete a chapter of the first book. I buried that slim-figured dress underneath a load of my oversized pajamas before I could even come even just a little bit close to fitting into it. On a stage where the world offers someone a thousand spotlights to stand under, I immediately took a bow and left the theater with no more intention of looking back.

I put my dreams to an abrupt stop and decided to settle with the now, hence the reason why I describe my present self as simply living. No trophies of gold, no noteworthy accolades, no glamour that shines enough to be remembered. Frankly, I am a far cry from the person that I thought I would be back when I was still a newcomer in the so-called “real world.” That girl who used to envision herself working overtime in a spacious office to finish writing and proofreading a truckload of magazine articles is now simply writing when she feels like it, preferably in the heart of the night, with the determination to control her ink-stained fingers because she now has things to do which hold so much more value and importance that it is worth sacrificing any youthful desire for—but what, you may ask, could possibly be more important than your own passion and happiness? Why would you need to give up on something that you have been yearning for all your life?

I remember asking the same question a few years ago, back when I was still a bystander who was merely scratching the surface of the whole situation. I could blame it all on my youth, my ideals, or my inexperience but whatever reason may have played behind the scenes, it was undoubtedly convincing enough to make me trade a life of simplicity for a more bustling one. The pressure to prove yourself always seems so strong when you’re sixteen, but as you take one step after the other in this journey we call life, you get to realize that you are not really planning to make that high-paying job or those shining medals your desired destination. With each passing day, you wrap your head more around the sentiment that happiness does not always have to come in humongous gifts wrapped in glitter and sparkling lights—most of the time, it’s just sitting on your doorstep, quietly begging for your attention that has long been taken captive by your self-painted picture of a good life. And for quite some time, my imagination has enjoyed adorning the walls of my heart with frames that mirror my future, only to find out later on that they are all complicated pieces of abstracts—hard to decipher; not making any sense at all.

This is not to say that I did not love life at all before—I did actually, in lots of different and wonderful ways. However, while the things that I had pursued before did give me a measure of happiness at some point, I have come to realize that they did not make me happy enough to make me feel a complete sense of satisfaction and contentment. I had watched a number of movies and written several pieces of poetry in the past, but they all had me smiling and laughing only until the clock struck a particular hour. It was admittedly euphoric, but it was fleeting in the most disheartening way possible. A kaleidoscope of happy, sad, anxious, hopeful, and confused seemed to illuminate all of those days. It was vague at first, but in time, it became clear: my happiness was fluctuating because it severely lacked purpose. And when you’re traveling through the woods with no clue of where to go, you would not have the heart to feel ecstatic at all.

I have always had faith—or at least, I thought I did. Growing up, I have always directed all my prayers to Jehovah God, the true God as stated in the Bible (Psalm 83:18). Perhaps it was because I have always been firm in this conviction that I took for granted the precious privilege of having gotten to know Him at such an early age, although the thought had not really struck my deepest concerns back then. However, the transition period from childhood to adulthood enabled me to see that being a true believer of Jehovah meant more than just praying to Him—it had to be holistic; it had to touch all aspects of my being. Sadly, my mind selfishly kept all these things to itself and was not generous enough to share them with my silently ambitious heart. I knew the importance of keeping Jehovah God first in my life, but I passed it off as a mere sliver of ordinary knowledge and continued living by my own perceptions. At the time, Jehovah God was just a part of my life—not the whole of it.

When you eat something delicious enough to make you want to cook it on your own, you will most definitely ask for its recipe from the person who cooked it. How about the recipe for true happiness in life? Needless to say, it could only come from the One who made it possible—our Grand Creator, Jehovah God. And being the loving and considerate God that He is, Jehovah had such recipe written down in His Word, an ingredient of which could be read at Ecclesiastes 12:1: “Remember, then, your Grand Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of distress come and the years arrive when you will say: “I have no pleasure in them.” The scripture’s meaning was oozing with so much clarity: I could only be happy if, and only if, I put Jehovah God first in my life. So, to cut the story short, I stripped off all the self-imposed expectations, people-pleasing tendencies, and unrealistic desires that came with the gold around my neck on my college graduation day and decided to remember my God, Jehovah, for real—to be truly determined to live for Him.

It’s been four years since then, and you might ask: was that life-changing decision worth all the sacrifice? Was there really a bright ray of light awaiting me at the end of this cramped tunnel?

Well, to tell you honestly, the early stages of my spiritual advancement had served as a huge blow of harsh realization to whatever confidence that had welled up within me during my college days. It opened my eyes to a version of myself that I never knew I had been silently and naively projecting all along; a fact which both terrified and dismayed me. There was also that period of adjustment that I had to go through due to the game-changers littered along my chosen path—a secular job of which I absolutely had zero knowledge and experience, sudden responsibility to converse with strangers that I see on the street, a highly sensitive conscience, a rearrangement of priorities, a different crowd of people with no sight of those whom I have always loved. I knew it was not the biggest problem to ever exist, but it was a problem nonetheless, and I could not feign ignorance in its presence more so if it was accompanied by a rollercoaster of emotions. During those days, I was a huge mess of insecurity and doubt. I knew I should be happy, but it was not what I had felt at all. The surge of self-awareness was just too strong that at some point, I unconsciously opted to drown in its dark waters rather than sail through its giant waves—sounds more like a curse than a blessing, doesn’t it? Admittedly, a part of me felt the same way at first—I could still recall that one particular night where I drenched the pillows with my tears because I was frustrated that my heart and mind could not agree to meet up at the same intersection. There was a sense of heaviness weighing on me deep down inside, and I might have unknowingly wondered if I could really be happy in pushing aside all my desires to adhere to Jehovah’s.

It's been four years since then, and let me tell you the short, simple answer to all of those questions: yes. This is not just some mere superficial affirmation—it’s real and concrete in the most unfiltered of ways. It sounds cliché, but my decision to put Jehovah’s will above mine has indeed been, for lack of a better word, the best one that I have made in my whole life. Satisfying our spiritual needs does open the door to deep-seated joy; we just have to be willing and humble enough to get its key to gain access to it (Matt. 5:3). It did take a bit of time for me to come to terms with this reality, but happiness is just inevitable when you try and see Jehovah’s goodness for yourself. As I look back on everything that has happened, I have realized that it actually took just a few sacrifices on my part to witness firsthand our loving God’s ability to bless my efforts “more than superabundantly.” (Psalm 34:8; Eph. 3:20). I may not have “conquered the world” just like how my idealistic 20-year old self had expected me to do, but I do get to journey through this world towards the new one with Jehovah God by my side—a precious possession that far outweighs even the most expensive stone to ever grace the earth.

Don’t get me wrong though; as optimistic as these words may seem to be, it does not mean that my life is already perfect—it’s far from it, actually, because as what I have said, I now have to wage war against myself to win over my imperfections every day. It’s been a cycle of ups and downs ever since, and I admit that I have days where I just feel so dizzy and tired to keep going. However, flowers flourish after a moment in the rain, the moon becomes most valued when admired against the darkness of the night sky, and I, despite all the scars inflicted upon me by my condemning heart, am still here. I look in the mirror and tend to let the dull colors of my wrong choices overpower the pastels of my good ones, but my mother still prepares me homecooked meals, my cousins trust me enough to teach them their school lessons, my best friend has me in mind every time she needs someone to talk to at 2:00 in the morning, and my niece smiles at me like I am one of the most exciting people she could ever spend time with. I look in the mirror and see someone who has a knack for being so unforgivably flawed, and yet I still end the day with a bed to sleep on and a collection of moments with people who have seen me at my worst but still chose to stay anyway. The light shines the brightest in the dark, and love becomes most evident in your most wounded state. Through the cracks of my scars now pass beams of wonderful realizations that though I am perfectly imperfect in a multitude of ways, I am still cherished and loved—all these because I got to know Jehovah God, the One who is “greater than our hearts and knows all things” (1 John 3:19,20).

So here I am, my friend. Yes, I am that girl whom you have conversed with the day we first met, and I am simply living—for as far as secular achievements are concerned, I can guarantee you a hundred percent that I don’t have anything to contribute to that now and any more. I find great delight, however, in knowing that I am now living instead of merely surviving—that even in the possession of a salary that is just enough to cover my monthly expenses, a job that has zero connection to both my beloved craft and college degree, and a lifestyle that does not in any way reflect the one that I had thought I would live, I can still manage to smile with my whole heart. Things have become so much more different now, but I wouldn’t have it any other way—I could go back in time and relive all the moments that led me up to this point but I would still choose to make the same sacrifices in a heartbeat, because it is through such that I was able to find my most precious treasure in life: my relationship with my Almighty Father and best friend, Jehovah God. And I want to make it my lifelong goal to hold on to that unconditionally and faithfully.

So if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I am okay, and that I am happy—maybe not consistently, but without a shadow of a doubt, purposefully and certainly. And whether things have already changed between us or have remained the same, I want you to know that I will always love you—for the person that you used to be, the person that you are now, and the person that you will soon become. Your name has been permanently inked across the pages of my most beloved memories, and hopefully, someday, I will be able to stand beside you as we walk the path towards the real life together.

From outside the door, you see beauty in kaleidoscopes— through angles from every direction and colors that speak much radiance that they seem to tune out all the biting words of a condemning heart so only the calm of the truth may remain. Your eyes, albeit pooling in the dark and existing in imperfect glory, find pleasure in spotting the lilac and golden out of someone’s palette of monochromes for you have always had faith that the blandest souls need not ignorance, but a chair to sit in beside someone who cares. You allow your hands to be shaken with ones that shiver upon the outpour of tears because you know that pain is a rowdy spectator who questions one’s performance on the stage of life and you cannot bear to see them hide beneath the wings when you can only see that their chances of happiness are smiling brightly in the front row of the auditorium, urging them to go on and keep their spirits alive. You see hearts get shattered into a million pieces and faces accept that they will never be whole again and while you may agree that it won’t anymore go back to the way it used to be, you know better than to let oblivion swallow the shards because hope will always spring eternal if only one chooses to go beyond the brokenness and believe in the masterpiece that lies underneath. It’s so easy to love when the scenery is a serene blue, but to choose to love even when the storm hovers over the last ray of sunshine and silver lining is a kind of rarity that lingers in the purest of souls and the softest of hearts— simply, you.

But when you finally open the door and shut it behind you and let the curtains fall to obstruct your view of the skies, what happens, I wonder? The sun holds on to a boundless amount of energy but as striking as your resemblance may be to the morning, you still come with a bottle of inevitable miseries   and a mellow soundtrack to listen to on a rainy day for you are still made out of stardust and frailty— a human, no more and no less. And when life drives you to the brink of the uncontrollable, do you see yourself in kaleidoscopes too or do you just stand in front of the mirror alone? Only you can relay the whole narrative behind the scenes but I do know that you have been brave for far too long; perhaps far too much, that the scars might have already succeeded in coming off as smiles, the cries as echoes of gleeful laughter, and the sorrows as lighthearted humor. But when you finally call it a day   after using up all your love to assure others that they are more than what they give themselves credit for, you, on the other hand, might define yourself by your own reflection which cannot even come close to describing just how you are every gift and blessing from up above put together to make this world realize that although it cannot change on its own, it can have all the reasons to believe that there will always be more reasons to smile than to completely let go.

It’s so easy to embrace the dark when you think that it’s all that makes you who you are but dearly beloved, may our God, Jehovah, always remind you that there are many kinds of beautiful— and I hope and pray that you will soon accept that you have always been one of them too.

He let his eyes roam around the place for a brief moment. The skies were a major clash of deep reds and oranges, with the sun sinking down into the horizon in a slow, melancholic fashion. The warm summer breeze was rustling through the leaves of the maple trees around them, with the wildflowers among the grass swaying to its humid melody. He had always possessed a soft spot for said scenery, but something about it just struck him an immense feeling of home when she came into the picture—simply put, what he thought was just another beautiful fragment of the ordinary bloomed into one that had so much depth; so much life. Their friendship was built on such wistful beauty, and though she would usually opt for solitary hours over accompanied ones in its presence, he knew very well that she loved watching the sunset with him just as much as he did with her.

Or maybe that was just him.

He then turned his head in her direction and gave her the most tender look that he could muster. “You could talk to me,” he said, voice coming out so softly that it could almost pass off as a whisper. Uncertainty and hesitation started to tug heavily at its heartstrings the moment the words slipped past his lips, but he just had to express them before they could even put him behind the bars of silence. He had no time to doubt himself—not when he could see that she was on the verge of drowning in her own.

Several children of around 7 to 8 years of age were playing a competitive game of tag some distance away from where they sat on their favorite bench in the park. Normally they would share a good laugh over such a comical, childlike scene, but the unspoken heaviness riding on the seconds in which they found themselves was so overwhelming that it was enough to halt them from breaking into even just the slightest curve of a smile. The silence was aggravating, and her deadpan gaze just seemed to add fuel to the anxiety that was already burning from deep within him.

“I… don’t think I can,” she replied, her tone laced with all the weariness that had defined her past days. She tore her attention away from the children and focused it on the green grass that covered the ground. She could have chosen to let his warm eyes soften the numbness that was dangerously filling hers, but she was sure that she would feel more crumbled than comforted when she actually caught sight of his desire to reach out to her. She had already drenched way too many pillows and she couldn’t afford to ruin his shirt with her tears too.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” he immediately interjected. The last thing that he wanted was for her to utter an apology—in fact, she needed not say sorry to him at all. He couldn’t let the uncontrollable turmoil drive her heart to the brink of guilt when he probably had far more experiences with the dark himself.

He lowered his gaze to where the gap between their seated bodies on the bench lay. They were on opposite ends; like two lonesome strangers who just happened to stay in one place by chance. It was cliche to say that she was so close yet so far away, but no words felt more appropriate to describe the situation other than those. Memories of fist bumps, good-natured teasing, inside jokes, gleeful laughter, and 3 AM solemn conversations suddenly became so distant, and though the fear that they might remain as mere memories forever weighed on him, the thought that she could spiral down into a delusion of unfathomable misery hit him far more painfully than any negative force to ever exist.

She deserved happiness, and he could not let her believe that she deserved any less.

He tilted his head to look at her once again. He strongly felt that she wanted to be alone, but he just knew that he needed to do something; anything. With that in mind, he mentally heaved a heavy breath before letting out a thought-provoking question for her to ponder on. “Can I stay though?”

There was a pregnant pause. A few crickets conversed with the wind as he watched her face get washed over by apparent contemplation. “I’ve… never had anyone stay before,” she eventually admitted.

Upon hearing her response, he gradually moved closer to her—not to the point of invading her personal space, but just enough to make her feel that he cared. “Well,” he said, “you have one now.”

For the first time that day, she looked him in the eyes—it was not in the same glowing way that he had grown accustomed to, but it was still a reaction nonetheless. The minimal energy left in her worn-out spirits gathered enough strength to make her face light up with a smile, albeit faint. She then decided to reciprocate his efforts, sliding across the bench until she felt the cold in her soul slowly get thawed by the calming warmth that resided in his arms.

The sun had finally fallen, and so had her tears—but this time around, it was not an outlet for sadness. It was a courageous act of letting go; of breaking free from the trap of her self-loathing sentiments so she could come in contact with the love that had been streaming through her windows all along. She was well aware of how life could tend to be such an unpredictable array of raging storms and lonely nights, but right there in his embrace, she realized that she could also choose to wake up and look forward to another sunrise.