Catharsis_writes

Personally written literature 🇵🇭

[catharsis-writes]

(Chapter 1)

Trust Me

“Trust me.”

Nova held her right hand out, the same hand that dawdled and traveled to parts Millie never knew about, the same hand that sent chills of pleasure pulsing through her last night. She eyed her lover’s hand fixedly, contemplating her thoughts about last night.

“I know you feel unsure,” Nova assured her. This time, Millie dared to look directly at her lover. “but I’m as inexperienced as you are.” Nova added, her head nonchalantly bobbed to the right as she gazed back at Millie. Her obsidian eyes giving out their usual intensity of certainty, a strand of hair slightly cloaking her right eye, her right hand still bare of Millie’s touch.

Millie abhorred being surmounted by anyone’s control. Nova Clementine’s towering stature of 5”10, intent stare, and utmost seriousness basically made Nova ooze with supremacy. The irrevocable fact that Millie loves this woman in front of her doesn’t help. Unlike most miscreants who wear their power over people around their necks, Nova on the other hand is somewhat one of the good eggs; if that makes sense.

“I’m sorry.” Millie finally whispered, she took Nova’s hand as she shoved her thoughts about her qualms in bed last night.

“You’re at it again.” Softness evident in Nova’s tone. She took a step towards Millie, closing whatever space there was between them. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.” Nova placed Millie’s palm on her right cheek, closing her eyes as she took her warmth in. She pulled Millie closer, her left hand on Millie’s back as her right hand combed through the back of her head, lightly scratching and tangling with the Millie’s hair. Nova’s jaw clenched and unclenched, her breathing slowly escalating into lengthy draws of air.

“Is this okay?” She asked Millie when she breathed her shampoo’s scent, her lips travelled to Millie’s forehead and lingered- waiting for an answer. Nova leaned back to allow a bit of space between the two of them, lifting her lips from Millie’s forehead.

“Yes.” Millie managed to say. She raised her head to look at Nova only to realize that she was waiting for her to do the same, her lover’s eyes glassy and unfocused. She broke her stare and decided to gaze at Nova’s lips instead.

“Oh, what shall I do to you?” Nova took a small step back and began tracing Millie’s right bare shoulder and arm with her index finger, letting her nail lightly dig into Millie’s skin while her right hand aptly grasping Millie’s shoulder. Her eyes following her left hand’s movements.

“What a nuisance you are my dear.” She added “You drive me wild, I suppose you indulge on your dominance over me.” She leaned over Millie’s right ear and whispered, slowly tugging on her earlobe as she finished what she had to say.

-Catharsis_writes

[catharsis-writes]

My wristwatch ticked along with the rhythm coming from my chest. Each tick accompanied a lub and each tock escaped with a dub. Hand in hand they murmured to me about the seconds that passed since the few hours I've felt afloat in the air. My toes barely brushing the ground as I saw her again after months and months of anticipation.

Today, my anticipation grows again akin to the days that have followed the few hours we had together. Growing not like of a flower that sprouts greeting spring with blooming petals, awaiting to be plucked and placed in a vase. No, my anticipation will not fade after one encounter. No my dear, it does not. Growing as in the moon revealing itself after its long slumber, only for it to meet the sun for a brief glimpse and perhaps a peck on the cheek. Then arising again and again hoping for an eclipse where the two of them shall share the same sky. Now if it could only last a lifetime, that, that would be how I would describe the hope I have been holding on to.

I will have you again in my arms for another few hours. Then again and again and again, until we are granted the eclipse we have both prayed for.

-Catharsis_writes

[catharsis-writes]

Proving that I am, in fact, human is no longer in my list of priorities

If you think I was born barren of a heart, go ahead and point me to where the pitchforks are

Once wrought iron meets liquid rust

Once air's pushed out of my lungs

Don't dare change your mind once I bleed crimson with eyes aflutter

-Catharsis_writes

[catharsis-writes]

Art by: @tihssue (Instagram)

#writersph

I know my bed’s a mess, along with my hair and my cabinet of rolled clothes. I know I look miserable, but I really can’t bring myself to smile. As much as I’d like to please you, I just can’t. Believe me, I wake up every day in hopes to tidy up, to finally stick to the routine I made in my head. Although I’ve already constructed a list of tasks I intend to follow bit by bit, I still end up getting dragged towards my bed. Where I then spend the majority of my afternoon, asleep or dreaming how things could turn out if I would simply get a grip on my life. ⠀

⠀

Countless plans thrown in the trash, all a vain attempt to finally live up to my own expectations and potential, which people have been telling me about. I’m somewhat sick of that conversation. Every one of them unable to convince me that I could do and be better. Sometimes I feel my life’s but a saga of disappointing people. One by one, I lose those who believe in me because I refuse to do the same for myself and because I can’t. And every day I worry I would have no one left. Yet here I am, writing this at past 8 P.M. in my unmade bed. Used dishes at the sink, waiting for me to my emerge from my blanket cocoon.⠀

⠀

Tomorrow would be another day that I may attempt to follow through my list of to-dos. Another day where I could unsurprisingly fail to keep the promises I made.⠀

⠀

Another day. ⠀

-Catharsis_writes

[catharsis-writes]

“15 more minutes. Mere 15 minutes where you're still mine.” His voice shaking at the utterance of his request. The room felt colder than usual, the bed even more inviting than it was three days ago when they slept entangled in each other's arms. The air was dry, almost refusing to be breathed.

“I won't stay and watch you torture yourself.” Faye began inching away, her fingers slowly detangling itself from his hair and loosening her embrace around his torso.

“15 minutes, baby. I'll keep my eyes shut. After that, you can get up and leave me in bed, cocooned under the blankets.” Neil quietly pleaded while steadying his breathing.

“Give my cheek a single kiss, and whisper that you're only getting up to get yourself a glass of water.” He inched closer, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “All while I keep my eyes shut tight, feigning sleep.” He added as he gently shook his head. Rubbing against her shirt’s neckline, further dampening it. A desperate attempt to stop crying.

“So when I wake up, tomorrow or a few hours from now. I'd think it was a beautiful dream. With you as the lovely muse and someone I'd never see nor meet again. Perhaps a single tear would escape my eyes, but after that, I'll only be happy that I at least met you, even for a brief moment as a substitute to a lifetime.” Faye gave out a single half-hearted nod, her eyes glassy and swelling with tears.

“That's all I ask. 15 more minutes, and then you're no longer mine. I love you so much.” He whispered, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion.

“In another lifetime, maybe I would stay.” Faye kept running her fingers across his scalp. Softly humming a song familiar to both of them.

“It isn’t this lifetime, is it?” It took him all his resolve not to hope for the answer he wants to hear.

“No, honey, I don’t think it is.”

[catharsis-writes]

Most days I think I'm all better, that no matter what bullshit is thrown at me I could surely handle it. But I was a fool to think I am, I'm still wounded. Those that have healed had its scabs scratched off, reopened and bleeding again. And I'm so so sorry for those who had been bleeded on. I can't, I don't know what else I could do. I'm tired and no amount of sleep had been able to surmount my exhaustion. But I'm awake now, and everything seems to be demanding too much. Too much energy, attention, commitment. Everything seems to be asking for things I cannot give.

What more do I have to do to get out of this mess of a person that I am?

[catharsis-writes]

I’ve been told that I’m quiet. That I usually open my mouth to say please, yes, and thank you; to simply articulate the slightest indication of my manners. I dislike how they mistake my silence for docility, it would be nice if I could give them a piece of my mind but I usually end up pursing my lips; holding back a tongue itching to unleash a thunderous storm.

My quiet is never weak nor conforming, it is not pacifism nor blind obedience. My quiet is fire creeping up the walls, burning everything its ember kisses. Quiet is the slow and steady hum vibrating underneath concrete ground baptized by crimson fluid dripping from my fingers, blessed with crystal tears shed from clandestine battles I’ve singlehandedly won. With my roar of victory still echoing in Valhalla, shaking and sending shivers along the spines of those who are foolish enough to challenge me- a harbinger of either nightmares etching incomprehensible voids inside skulls or sweet sweet kisses of red grapes, hinting of wild blueberries. My demons begging with the words “no more”.

Instead of unlocking my lips and sending a fury of words, I sit back and smile. Praying that they never provoke my ‘loud’, knowing fully well how unforgiving my quiet can be.

[catharsis-writes]

It wasn't so long ago when I saw your unfamiliar face in a crowd, and I paid no attention. It didn't occur to me how someone so unfamiliar, so insignificant, would soon amount to be the only face I'd search for, the only touch I'd yearn. ⠀

⠀

I love how you've shown me that I haven't lost my humanity despite growing cold against life's harsh winds, you led me towards who I really am; sometimes I wonder if you know me better than I do or if somehow, you held a compass that led straight to where my heart was. I love how meeting you made more sense every day, how you've made everything seem easier than it really was, how you've made waking up a tad bearable for me.⠀

⠀

I watched myself slowly getting attune with you. Your footsteps had become an all too familiar noise, how your breathing had become a calming rhythm which I've never failed to fall asleep to, how your arms and the curve of your neck felt as one of the safest and warmest places in the world. I watched myself detangle words I've yet to tell but you. ⠀

⠀

Like wildfire, you flushed me with overwhelming ferocity. I had no time to arrange my thoughts, no time to think if my actions still made sense. I wanted everything to slow down, but I was curious, I was intrigued with where things were going. It was a roller-coaster of euphoria and confusion. You've triggered a rush I had no control of, and you were never sorry for it; you shouldn't be. Right when I thought the euphoria was over, the pandemonium had settled until there was only calmness and you, until all that remained was you. It was only then that I deduced, there was nothing stopping me from wanting you, not even my own reservations. ⠀

⠀

And here I am, I'm all yours. ⠀

⠀

If one person were really meant for another, if such things such as destiny did exist, if at one end of the red string bound us to someone. ⠀

⠀

For the love of God let me be yours.

[catharsis-writes]

Pass the happy! 🌻🌿 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications! (Don't sweat it though if you're not up for this!)

*my girlfriend

*sleeping

*books

*food

*writing

[catharsis-writes]

I heard you, when you said goodbye.

It only felt empty. Miles and miles of unfathomable silence, awkwardly filled with half-hearted smiles and promises the both of us never intend to keep.

It hurt, but I would never allow myself to show you how I winced when you said your farewell. When the only thing that kept you from taking another step away from me, from us, was a subtle nudge.

I don't think anything could usurp your hollow swan song, your magnus opus if you will. It was as if a hundred eulogies were written for a death that never ensued. What pains me the most is how it was I who wrote the eulogies, a seemingly all too familiar track playing in my head. Remembering a man who had only given me promises but not love.

[muchymozzarella]

From Ezra Acayan on Facebook:

Do you remember the kid who, while playing with his friends in their Tondo neighborhood, was shot dead by a police officer out of nowhere? And do you remember the police officer's excuse? It was an accident he said, that while patrolling the area he tripped and accidentally fired his gun. The kid's name was Aldrin Pineda. He was 13 years old.

Do you remember that, in that same neighborhood, a secret detention facility was discovered where kidnapped drug suspects were kept, tortured and raped, and their families extorted huge sums of money for their freedom? Do you remember that this secret jail was found inside a police station—a tiny one by five meter unventinalted room hidden behind a bookshelf, where at times 30 people had to cramp inside? Who knows if this secret jail still exists—the police officers involved had all been promoted.

Do you remember the two kids who went on a trip to Baguio but never made it back alive? One, police said, was killed in a shootout with police officers after failing to stop at a checkpoint on a motorcycle. A claim, her mother says, is impossible since the kid didn't know how to drive a motorbike. Meanwhile, the other kid remains missing to this day. Their names were Joshua Laxamana and Julius Sebastian. They were 17 and 15 years old.

Do you remember the night of December 28, 2016, when unidentified men looking for a drug suspect opened fire on shanty houses at a slum community in North Caloocan? Seven people died that night, including three minors and a pregnant woman. The incident was dubbed as the Caloocan Massacre. The fatalities that night were: Angelito Soriano, 16; Jonel Segovia, 15; Sonny Espinosa, 16; Cristina Santor, 45; Ednel Santor, 22; Kenneth Lim, 20; Analyn Dayamla, 25 and her unborn child.

Do you remember the little boy who, one night while sleeping in their home at a slum in Pasay, was killed together with his father by bonnet-wearing gunmen? Police claim his father was a notorious drug suspect. The killing left an eight-month-pregnant woman at that time a widow and with one less child. The boy’s name was Francis Manosca. He was 5 years old.

Do you remember the three kids, who went missing one night and whose bodies later turned up dead the following morning? Their throats had been sliced, and a cardboard sign next to them warned the trio's friends that they would be killed next. The girlfriend of one of the kids even received a text message from one the killers using the kid's phone, taunting her—"He's dead. What a pity." Their names were Jerico Garcia, Harold Bulan, and Jomari Sinerez. Jerico was 16, Harold and Jomari were 17. Harold was deaf mute.

Do you remember the little girl who was shot dead by police? Police claim she was used by her drug-suspect father as a human shield while resisting arrest. “Shit happens”, said one senator who used to be the police chief. The girl’s name was Myca Ulpina. She was 3 years old.

Do you remember the teenager who was executed in a dark yard in Navotas? The day before he got into a fight with one of his neighbors, who went to the barangay and reported him for selling marijuana. The night after he was forcibly taken by bonnet-wearing men in motorcycles. He was taken to a dark yard where residents saw him being taunted. "Run!" his killers said, but he couldn't—he was club footed. So they shot him dead. His name was Raymart Siapo, he was 19-years-old.

Do you remember the two teenagers, who one night went missing from their neighborhood in Cainta? One, police said, was caught in shooutout with police officers in Caloocan who claim he had tried to rob a taxi driver. The police say they had found marijuana and shabu on him. His mother wonders how this was possible—the boy was suffering from depression and didn't like leaving the house. How could he suddenly leave their house one night and decide to rob a taxi driver kilometers away from home? Meanwhile, the other kid remained missing for 20 days until his body was found floating in a river in Nueva Ecija, a hundred kilometers away. His head was wrapped in tape, and his thin body bore 30 stab wounds. Their names were Carl Angelo Arnaiz and Reynaldo De Guzman, 19 and 14 years old.

And do you remember the kid who pleaded with police officers not to kill him because he had a test the next day? “Please don’t, I have a test tomorrow”, he begged. The police claim it was a legitimate police operation and that the kid fought back, but security footage later revealed that he was dragged helplessly to a dark alley where he would be executed. At the crime scene he was found holding a gun on his left hand, but he was right-handed. His name was Kian Delos Santos. He was 17 years old.

If you remember any of these names, then you would know who the real terrorists are.

#JunkTerrorBill

[source link in reblog in order to prevent Tumblr from hiding this post]

[muchymozzarella]

Link to source found here:

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=2703558256410607&id=100002693788139

Never forget what these monsters did.

[catharsis-writes]

For the things I cannot give

For the things I could never be

For the things I lack and could not gain

If I say goodbye too soon without a proper farewell

I am truly sorry. Do know that I tried.

[catharsis-writes]

I've been hurt my whole life

I've made peace with the fact that I never know what rest would feel like

Until you came

You are the only calm I've ever indulged in.

The only silence I've had after an eternity of turbulence.

[bunlly]

“Being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them.”

— Annette Messager

[tacobellee]

Yemen is facing the worlds largest hunger crisis and the world is too quiet.

And it’s the children that pay the highest price. An estimated 85,000 children have lost their lives to extreme starvation alone. Every 10 minutes, a child under 5 dies of preventable causes in Yemen. When choosing what charities or goals you want to support during the last few days of Ramadan, I urge you to keep the children of Yemen in mind. And if you’re not celebrating Ramadan, or are not religious.. you’re still human.

These are a few of charities that I know of that you can donate to:

https://www.savethechildren.org.uk/how-you-can-help/emergencies/yemen-crisis?

https://www.muslimglobalrelief.org/yemen-appeal (100% donation policy)

https://oxfamapps.org.uk/yemen

https://www.dec.org.uk/appeal/yemen-crisis-appeal

http://sharethemeal.org

Remember, it’s the smallest donations that build up or even just rebloging/sharing would help. May Allah smile upon us all, and relieve the children of this world of their heartache.

[sitoutside]

[catharsis-writes]

"It's difficult, isn't it?" He ruffled his hair, wariness evident in his eyes. His gaze glued to the mirror.⠀⠀

⠀⠀

"What is?" The reflection asked, cocking its head, forehead creased in thought. ⠀⠀

⠀⠀

"Staying awake," He exhaled, breaking his trance. "it didn't used to be like this." A heavy lump forming in his throat. "It's not supposed to be difficult. ⠀