Journal · Poems · Short Stories

when you see this, call me.

sometimes i just wish in the morning i opened my phone, your texts would be the first thing that i read. right now, i can’t believe that there was a time when such thing even happened. i’m sorry i let you down. so many fucking times. i’m sorry i let my insecurities win sometimes. they told me i’m not ready for love. and maybe i am? cause when it’s real–it seems scary. but not with you, never with you. when you sit next to me, i can’t help but wonder what you’re feeling. do you feel cold? are you happy? what’s bothering you? does sitting next to me make you feel uncomfortable? and the list goes on and on. and you, still, have no idea. muse comes and go. muse comes and go. do they? mine hasn’t been gone since 2 and a half years. sometimes i think screw it. maybe the next time i fall in love with people, i should focus more on their appearances. for the hopeless reason that is, so that i can get over them easily. i’m mad. i’m so mad, but also so in love. wasn’t that the purpose? wasn’t that what i wanted to do this whole year? but God, i love when you’re around. and please don’t tell me that you’re not happy. cause that makes me want to bring the whole world to your feet. i want to see you happy. i want to protect you, even when you clearly don’t need it. they remind me of you, and i remind them of you. and now i just laughed it off. sometimes i act like i see the answers written on your face. then i go home telling everyone that you finally love me back. that finally after all this time i could stop listening to those songs that really hurt me. since they’re actually the ones that could stop myself from hoping. i’ll listen to them again and put my phone on my chest as if i could engrave the lyrics down to my skin. i need them, but i need you more. i need us alone. when you see this, call me.

Journal · Short Stories

it’s in the mornings: where my heart aches.

It’s the mornings that I hate the most. The times where I don’t even need to teach myself how to feel numb. He did it again, I whispered to myself as I looked to the ceiling and wondered why I never learned from the last time he did this. I still don’t know how you managed to do that. I don’t know what you meant by doing and saying all the things that you did or said the night or the day before that. I wish I knew you, I wish I wish I wish, that’s what I always said.

It all started in January.

Continue reading “it’s in the mornings: where my heart aches.”

Short Stories

It wasn’t keeping both of us awake. But I’m glad it was over.

This is how it should be.


One night, I was talking to him on the phone. He asked me how would I describe my own description of darkness. I told him that it was such pleasure for me to explain, in fact on the other side I’ve been dying to make him understand. At that time, he said that he was alone in his bedroom, hearing nothing but his sister watching television. He asked me would it be better if he closed the door, and I said,


“Yes, please.”

Continue reading “It wasn’t keeping both of us awake. But I’m glad it was over.”

Short Stories

A little throwback: The Raindrops

[Trigger Warning]

I have this old writing project that me and my friends in high school had in our grammar class. I think our writing’s so underrated–which is why I brought it back here. I was reading it again–and it reminds me of how stressed out we were to finish this writing before the deadlines because the teacher also gave us another tasks to complete, one of them is this fun (personally stressing for me) screen-play. But I’m glad everyone had so much fun.

Continue reading “A little throwback: The Raindrops”