011516

On this day last year, I welcomed the day with tears in my eyes, clutching my pen as I wrote about the pain of losing you. I poured everything on my paper, but the pages of my notebook weren’t enough to describe how much I was aching to have even just a final conversation to you. It had had been months; but I have prayed to the gods to please, just please, let me be with you one last time, let me see the smile on your eyes and the touch the softness of your hand and run my fingers on the smoothness of your hair.

But see? No matter how much I grit my teeth on my blanket and wet my pillow with tears and scream your name to the moon, you never came back. The heavens did not grant my pathetic wish. I was alone and lonely, and yes, I was lost and I wandered around to different places. I wandered around because I had to do that! How else can I cope aside from wandering and thinking even if it hurts, until it hurts no more? I wandered and found myself in new, unfamiliar places. I’ve been in uncharted territories that I’ve never explored before.

I was lost, yes, but in losing my path I have found pieces of myself. I lost you, but I have found myself again. I have lost your love, but I regained something: my love for myself.

Today, on this very day that started all my happiness and pain from you, I shall sleep with a smile on my lips because, look how I have finally gotten over you! I shall close my eyes contentedly and happily because there is no bitterness in my heart, only acceptance of everything that has happened. You are no longer a chaos in my mind and a poison in my veins, because you, darling, are a lesson. I am thankful that the heavens did not listen to my pleas because how else could I have learned this much if the Universe brought you back to me?

I will tell you a secret: sometimes you have to experience the most piercing pain and get the deepest scars in order to be stronger. Only when you have undergone the earth-shaking challenges can you finally reach your crossroads.

And I have reached mine. I made my choices. I have long learned that happiness is a form of courage; and I want to be strong. I have decided to learn from my mistakes, and to be courageous enough to take a step towards my happiness. I shall build myself and grow, rather than stay rooted in my fears and be stagnant.

I know that I am in a better place now, that I am stronger, that my light shall burn brighter. Thank you for being a colorful chapter in my book, but I shall get on with the rest of my awesome story.

—ibcn, 011516

A love letter I could never send to you

Hello, dearest.

I do not know why I am writing to you yet again, even though I know I would get nothing but your deafening silence. I do not know why I am writing for you, offering these words I would like you to read, forming sentences I am not even sure if you’ll even give a slight attention to. But I know, my dear, that I would continue doing this even if I won’t hear any from you. I know I wouldn’t stop writing to you because I still have a lot to say; I know I wouldn’t cease writing for you until I felt that I poured it all through my doleful ink. Darling, I would continue writing to you and for you because you still exist in my universe and it haunts every folds of my own existence, and writing is the only way to release the demons in my mind.

Ang masokista ko talaga

Hindi ko rin alam bakit pa ko nag-aabala para sa’yo, kahit alam kong ang isasagot mo lang sa’kin ay ang piping katahimikan mo. Email ako nang email, kahit alam kong wala akong marereceive na reply. Kahit hindi ko alam kung binabasa mo ba ang ang mga sulat ko para sa’yo.

Kahit na habang itina-type ko ang bawat letra, binubuo ang mga salita, at pinag-uugnay ugnay ang mga pangungusap, hindi ko maiwasang hindi mapaluha. Nasasaktan pa rin ako sa nangyari sa atin. Nagrerewind ang mga masasaya nating ala-ala, na naudlot dahil sa mga hindi pagkakaintindihan at pangit na mga nagawa at nasabi.

Pero kahit di ko alam kung may patutunguhan ba ang mga ginagawa ko, di pa rin ako titigil. Hindi ko alam kung mali ba ang umasa, pero pag-asa na lang ang meron ako ngayon. Lagi ka pa rring kasama sa mga dasal ko.

Dahil hanggang ngayon hindi pa rin nagbabago ang nararamdaman ko para sa’yo.

Not all by myself, but through You

Fill me with the Holy Spirit, oh Lord, so that I could do the things I needed to accomplish, not all by myself, but through Christ who incessantly strengthen me. I know I am not alone in my struggles, because Jesus is always with me to help me carry my crosses and lighten my burden. For my successes are not for my own glory, but every achievement is offered for Your astounding Magnificence and unparalleled Grandeur.

Today I Write For You

Today, I write for you.
I poured myself as an ink
and used it to put my feelings
into words I wish you’d read.

Last night I waited until twelve
counting down for the moment we were supposed
to celebrate together.
But as I lay wide awake
at two in the morning
on my sea of sheets,
I felt the chills of a desolate January night
which was made lonelier and colder
because you’ve put out the light.

So today, I write for you
even though I am so scared.
Because each time I transform my emotions
into words, the memories
come like crashing waves.
Still, I gave in and let myself write for you
although it is a very painful thing to do.
I took out the notebook
with dedications you’ve never knew
and made love with words
because I couldn’t do it with you.

Darling, you are my bittersweet muse
and I let it take over
even just for today.
I let the poetry drift through my veins
and created poems
in a melancholic, agonizing haze.
I wrote you a long love letter
and talked about our memories and promises,
your beauty and strength and sweetness,
my enduring love and unyielding hope and fiery passions.
Honey, I tried to write them all;
but words are not enough
for the magnitude of my devotion.

Today as I write for you,
I let myself take a glimpse at your photos.
And as always, I felt a painful pang in my heart
When I see you hold her hand.

So tonight, my love,
let me write for you
these words I’m not even sure
if you will ever read.
But dearest, I’d cut my skin
and open my veins for ink
to write you
these poems
and songs
and letters
and stories
as I cry myself to sleep.

— ibcn
01.15.15