Can you hear me?

I know I've said that you're not entitled to my own expectations... but in this case, it's not that. It's a matter of wanting to feel wanted, the need to feel needed. The knowledge that I deserve a good man, because I know how good I can be to you.

I think we've just reached the lowest we can go, and I know in my mind that you've just proven how unworthy you are of my weeping. Oh well, that's all. I'll still keep the lessons I've learned from you, both the good and the bad. I'm done mourning this quick friendship we had, which cut my heart so unexpectedly deeply. I've had enough of this pain that I don't think I ever deserved.

You know what scares me the most? It's being in so much pain that I'll find myself unable to cry anymore. And no, that's not exactly a good thing–because there is strength in vulnerability. So much more. In breaking down comes the strongest will to feel alive and human. There is no shame in filling up your empty room with tears that won't let up. Those sleepless nights of feeling so many things are the epitome of beauty in this world of apathy. And these trembling hands that refuses to stay still, it can carry the whole weight of this heavy heart. This heavy heart of mine, I'm so scared that I might drop it from too much pain. And if ever than happens, not single tear shall be shed. Numbness will follow, and so will the death of my soul.

Kaunting kirot. Pangako, ‘yon lamang ang nararamdaman ko. Sa isang saglit na nakita kong may iba ka na pala. Sa isang silip na madalian upang patunayan na may sinusuyo ka– at hindi ako 'yon. Pangako, kaunting kirot lamang. Dahil hindi ba’t ako ang unang bumitaw sa oras na nakita kong hindi ikaw ang hinahanap ko? Hindi ba’t ako ang naglaho parang bula dahil naduwag ako sa pagharap sa iyo, sa dami ng takot ko? Na baka masaktan lang kita? Na baka hindi mo ibigay ang kailangan ko? Ako ang umayaw, bago ka pa magtanong. Ako ang tumakbo, bago pa magsimula ang lahat. Ginusto ko ang hindi ka ipaglaban dahil nagduda ako sa tibay ng 'yong loob. Kaya pangako, kaunting kirot lamang. Kaunting pagkagulo ng utak. At kaunting sakit sa dibdib. Kaunti lamang… dahil 'yon lang ang karapatan kong maramdaman. Walang labis, walang kulang.

There’s this sweet aftertaste if you bite into a heartbreak. That first taste of it–the repulsion and the hurt–those were a given. It makes you regret daring to even have the guts to try it. It’s worth it, they said. You hate them for giving you this false hope, because during that moment, all that you can taste is this bitter resentment burning inside your mouth. But keep chewing it, taste every pang of it, and finish it until it lasts, because once it’s down your throat… There’s a hint of that sweet, sense of relief… And you’ll say to yourself, “Ah. So this is what they meant.” Then you take a bite again.

My star you don't know how bright you have grown. Just look back and you'll see the trail you left on my empty night sky.

Let me tell you about That one time when I thought That perhaps we’re both done And the past has been gone But the memories barrage Through these flashback attacks So I needed your smile To be lost from my mind Now I wither in pain From the whips of mistakes I conflicted upon You, my dear cherished one Please forgive my offense In this form of defense But I thought I was hurt When in fact you’re who’s burnt.

Hello, my nobody, I’m already here Just smiling and laughing and everything in cheers I’m here waiting pretty for some stranger to approach Will you knock down my walls and save me from grief? If ever you missed me, I really can’t blame you My camouflage is perfect in the midst of this glee I mean… Who would ever spot the darkness lying beneath? Everyone is bright enough to cover up my shadows But it’s there, Always there, I really hope it wasn’t. So my dear nobody, Are you coming, are you near? ‘Cause I need to know if I should keep waiting— This heart was once beating, but now it's turned cold.

I knew the thoughts of what could have been would haunt me for days to come. Still, I refuse to turn you into my greatest what if.

I wake up to the sound of your cello. It’s times like this when I realize how nice it was to be with a musician—it makes such mornings easier to deal with. Suddenly, temporarily, I forget the fight we had last night before going to bed. And you probably don’t know I’m awake yet, but I pretend to be asleep because I want to listen to you undisturbed. I smile to myself longingly. I know the tender way you’re holding your cello close to you right now. I know, because sometimes, I feel like you hold me like that. You make an instrument out of my heartstrings, and I imagine myself making a beautiful sound made by your wonderful fingers. I always think, how can someone with such gentle hands hurt me? But you do. There are days when I feel like I’m your broken symphony, causing the misery in your eyes. I see the blame, as if it’s my fault that this relationship is out of tune. Sometimes, you forget that you have the responsibility to make sure I’m in good condition. You leave me on the side of the room, collecting dust and rust from abandonment.  Last night, I finally snapped. I screamed and yelled the words that cut you deep. I told you I was done, that I was over feeling sorry for myself. I realized that gone were the days when I was your sweet melody, a piece you have yet learned to play.  You never are satisfied, when you play a note wrongly. You won’t stop playing it over and over again, until you have perfected the sound you want—even if your hands are already bleeding. But I should have asked you to stop. I should have told you I'm not an instrument to be played. My music is something the wind carries, free and unbound. But you completely forgot that’s the very reason why you want me in the first place.  You trap me in the false promises of being fine-tuned into a better sonata. I’m sorry if I’m just one of your failed compositions. Deciding that it is time for me to go, I finally stand up and get out of your bed. I grab my coat and walk out to the door, attempting to softly open it so you won’t notice me leaving. But it creaks loud enough for you to hear anyway, and you stop playing your cello. You won’t even look at me, and I pretend that doesn’t hurt. My distance from the exit feels like a thousand miles away,  and the silence prolongs it which we both despise. Still, I continue walking, dragging my feet one step at a time. But just when I’m about to leave, I swear I hear you say the words you should have told me last night.  And it is the perfect last note for a masterpiece that’s ended.