jellyace

Carpe diem

[jellyaceiswow]

Task #5 (Tree)

If a tree could speak, it would speak with wisdom. With all the wisdom it learned from its whole life and the wisdom it got from each generation of people it lived with. It would also speak with empathy, from all the pity of humanity it saw and the empath it has become since the day it was called a “tree.”

[jellyaceiswow]

Task #5 (River)

I’ve been flowing since the chart start I began to see the unknown you try to dart I saw the trees beside rot And I also saw how you try to change the plot I saw how the first ones play the game rough But I also saw how was their first laugh Like how their stories flowed like I Until the sun made me dry I saw how they face me in sorrow And how their laugh at their reflection I saw how they smile with a cloud And how it starts to pour when it’s too heavy and just drop

I remember everything in every wave I shouldn’t have How their hands touched to how they rub Until they bring the first child to their last But mostly I overflew when they picked me last

[jellyaceiswow]

Task #6 (Pacing)

Scenario 1: Slow: As we tried to relocate where we are, no signal was found. Silence filled the air, all we could hear was crickles, breathing, and our thoughts wishing we could just disappear there. We roam our eyes trying to meet each other's sanity, but there’s only silence, uncertainty, that’s all we got. Except we also have fear, as well as madness for each other. But that’s not what we need at the moment. Fast: We search our ways out. We already did everything. Silence. Creep. Fear. Just scream. Blame them. But that’s not what we need now. Scenario 2: Slow: We jumped puddling in the mud, laughter, enjoying the moment, seizing the day like it’s our last. All fun and young until we heard a whimpering, like a small thing with a loud sound, like it hurt, by its sound, it’s a puppy, a very young one. We wandered around, flood, wet roads, molds, and all just water. Until we spotted a hole, we tried telling each other that one should get it, until the rain started getting harder. We ran towards it and saw that it’s struggling, we tried our best and.. WE GOT IT! We ran home immediately and warmed it with a dry towel. Fast: The hard rain started pouring, just adrenaline in the air. Until a sound struck our ears. Shrill. Loud. Hurt. A puppy! We ran into a small hole. A hole we ignored the whole time. We rushed home. Wet. Slippery. Scenario 3: Slow: Our teacher called our attention to start presenting our works, while all seated, she asked who wanted to present first. Two people raised their hands at the same time, our teacher chose the other group, and that’s where all the tension starts to build. The other asked in a challenging-angry way why she chose them. The other was threatened, now I don’t know where to be scared, to them presenting, or me presenting sooner. Fast: I was trembling to present. Zoning out. Murmurs. Until two of my classmates are arguing. Scenario 4: Slow: Me and my sister were playing in the farm, dark clouds, trees, wet grass, but we didn’t care. All we can hear and feel is us laughing while our stomach’s hurting, all naive. Until a roar from above made us freeze, I was too scared to move until she pulled me, us hiding in a tree as if it would save us. But you wouldn’t care once you’re there, all young. Fast: We’re having fun until the rain started pouring and the clouds made a heavy and scary sound. It was loud. Roar. That sound. Us, fearful.

[jellyaceiswow]

Q2 Task #5 (Emotions)

I wanted to be the cold breeze The one you always please The one you look for when heats on blaze The one you’d always have a gaze I tried so hard being the one that aint me I ended up ruining the things I could’ve set free I pour the things that shouldn’t be in I ended up being the chunk that shouldn’t begin I am the hurricane you thought to be a gentle wind I didn’t realize I was always the one from you hid I tried to fold myself into your quiet space

But hurricanes do not fit in a fragile vase And when I pass, the silence screams my name

A ghost of winds, of fire, of unclaimed flame

The calm returns, but something’s left to mourn

The wreckage of a heart too wild to be worn

[jellyaceiswow]

Q2 Task #4 (Reflective Essay)

 In the modern world we step our foot out, wherein we’re getting driven by technology and machines in every chance they get; wisdom and hard work will still stand out. Based on my understanding, it was never about what we get after them, it’s about treating something in a respectful way even though it wasn’t a person, more of a cultural practice; though I don’t mean that we don’t get anything from them at all. In a typical case, Palawan Sacred Forests. According to their practices, haunting, cutting trees, or any activities that could affect the place are strictly prohibited. It’s that sacred that people are protecting, not the law nor the government, but the ethnic and spiritual beliefs that the community has. It affects the people nowadays to continue what they’re used to, no deep explanation, no proof, just trust and awareness. These practices affect the modern world by building that sense of responsibility and a borderline where they would know when they did surpass it. Also a sense of appreciation with what has been given.

[jellyaceiswow]

Q2 Task #4 (Poem)

I swam across the deep sea The one no one actually see Where the first ones to behold its sheen Actually discovered its decree I finally got to the old shore A shore who remember its lore It may seem like a bore It will always keep its core And now I’ve seen this water uncovered I understood why they kept this bothered But it might probably stay quiet Till the day I’ve come to die yet

[jellyaceiswow]

Q2 Task #3 (Twist of Home)

Pag-ibig sa Katahimikan

Takipsilim ay paparating na Kayumanggi mong mga mata ang tanging nakikita Dala ng tahimik mong paghinga Ang puso kong napapangiti nang talaga Hindi mo man alam ay tinatanggal mo na ang tinik sa aking dibdib Kahit sa paraan lamang na ikaw ay nasa aking isip Patuloy mong pinapawi ang takot kong dala Parang meron ka atang tinatagong mahika Akala ko nga’y tuluyan nang nagsara ang daan patungo sa aking puso Nagulat nalang ako nang ikaw ay pumasok Lalo na noong sa bawat ngiti mo, mundo ko’y naging payapa na Hanggang sa napapasaya mo ang mundo ko nang hindi mo sinasadya

Pusong kumakaba sa tuwing nasulyapan ka

Parang nalibot ang langit, ikaw lamang ang nakikita

Hindi inaasahan, hindi sinasadya

Ngunit patuloy kong nasilayan ang liwanag mong lihim na dala

[jellyaceiswow]

Q2 Task #1 (Talinhagang Bukambibig)

• Tulog mantika -refers to someone who's a heavy sleeper • Balat sibuyas -refers to someone sensitive • Itaga mo sa bato -phrase that makes someone keep a promise • Makati ang dila -referring to someone talkative • Dugong Bughaw -referring people who's rich • Igalaw ang baso -to break the silence • Balat kalabaw -refers to someone insensitive • Mabigat ang kamay -refers to someone who's violent • Butas ang bulsa -symbolizes the poor • Mababa ang luha -refers to someone who cries easily

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #13 (Three)

“In every wisp of smoke that dared to rise drifts a wish I breathed in hushes too faint for any ear to catch.”

On everyone's birthday I was always present, from the planning, to the execution, to the setting up of cameras, I love to make everyone happy, to make everyone feel they’re loved. I reckon that once your days are counted, it’ll be the only things you’d like to happen. But what if I couldn’t make my own loved one feel they’re loved?

Three months to go and it’s my best friend’s birthday, she’ll be turning 18 by then; but she hates celebrating it. She hates to be a destruction to anyone or to even burden anyone by making their schedule tighter. I knew her better than anyone, I wish she knew it too. In every household, there’s someone that carries every family lore, hopefully it wasn’t her, it was her older sister; but that led her being a glass child. The one who they expect to be less of a burden, someone who has always said “don’t add to this, we already have many problems.” The one they expect to not feel anything at all.

I want her to know that she’s not, at least not me. For her birthday I want her to feel special, the way she did when everything was going well and her father was carrying her because her legs were too weak to stand for too long; I want her to feel comfortable being vulnerable again, at least before adulthood eats her alive. I have 3 months, 90 days to do everything she might want to enjoy her last years as a minor. We met when we were 15, 3 years together and I believe I could do everything alone.

I was planning on giving her 3 gifts, for the 3 years I cannot attend until she turns 21. 3 business days of vacation, for the last 3 days we could actually spend time with each other. 3 emails that would be sent exactly on her next 3 birthdays.

It’s been 2 months since I’ve planned everything, now all I have to do is execute it. 2 months of chemo indeed made my body weaker, I hope she wouldn’t notice. I was so busy planning I didn’t reply to her, she probably started to notice. My phone rang, it was my doctor, it was an awkward silence so I started the conversation.

“Doc, why did you call? Would you add another pill of my tons of doses of medicine? Shouldn’t we just accept that I’m dying” I said trying to light everything

“W- what are you saying?” A familiar voice started to cloud my head, when I checked the name, it was her. Way back she always told me that she will be a doctor once she graduated, so I started to call her doc, my own doctor. But I didn’t know that it would mislead me, I was so anxious I didn’t know what to do, I hung up. I rested my mind for hours until I had my courage built.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to hang up on you, I was just shocked, and about what you’ve heard, sorry if I didn’t mention it earlier.”

“So it was true?” She said she caught me off guard again.

“You know it was just an excuse so you wouldn’t notice that I’m planning something”

“Was it for my birthday? I knew it!” She said laughing her lungs out, it’s no longer a surprise.

Days passed until it became weeks, to months. Her birthday is gonna be tomorrow, I hope she will still enjoy it. I couldn’t sleep, all I can think about is her. But something will happen tomorrow than her birthday, I couldn’t say what it was until my tears just dropped uncontrollably like a flowing river. I have to drink sleeping pills again.

Now I’m in my car in front of her house, waiting for her to come out. She promised me that today we’ll spend our time together, not with anyone else. She came out and my world slowed down, like anytime I could confess my three years of love for her, but now I understood, I couldn’t, I shouldn’t have.

“Hey!” She said and now I look like an infant being so hungry looking at its mother’s milk zoning out.

“Oh sorry, you look so fine.” I said stuttering.

“You’re head over heels on me again, you’re getting obvious again” she replied laughing

I laughed back, not because it’s funny but because it’s true. I drove to our favorite beach, Passenger Seat by Stephen Speaks plays on my mind. She slept on the passenger seat looking like a baby, I wish she was my baby. It came like that until we arrived.

“Hey, wake up”

“Hmm” she hummed trying to resist me, too bad I couldn’t resist her too.

As she enjoyed her sleep I covered the window so she wouldn’t have to be bothered by the sunlight’s bloom, and carried our stuff to our room; my weakness grew so bad I couldn’t even carry 2 backpacks without tripping more than thrice. The moment I came back, she’s finally awake.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She said sulking.

“I did, in fact you resisted. But it’s fine, it’s been a long day. Oh look, the sun is setting now, hurry up!” I said, trying to light up her mood, I don’t want to ruin her day for her.

We ran on the bitch like a 7 year olds getting away from their mothers’ sight until we got tired under the orange skies of noon waving goodbye. She sat on the dry part of the shore as I lay my my head on her legs.

“I’ve never seen the sky this orange before” I said trying to approach a conversation

“I did, but it was when my mother drowned before” she said

“Can I admit something to you?” I asked

“Sure”

“I liked you even before we became friends, but I thought if you knew I’d lose everything we had; and you were straight.”

“Who said that? And why are you saying this now? Aren’t you afraid of losing me now?”

“I still am, but now I have nothing to lose. I’m dying.”

Awkward silence filled the air, but I hear three things at least, the waves, her heavy breathing, and the loud bang that’s slowly getting louder. I know I’m dying, I need to at least say these three words.

“I love you.”

Until everything became dark, and have you heard when they say that there will be seven minutes before you actually lose consciousness? It was unbelievably true, but the moment her tears dropped on my cheeks, the rest of the seven minutes suddenly became all about her.

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #12 (Time Folds)

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.”  Dawn bled slowly as if it wanted me to mourn deeply in every breath I took in its cold breeze, so cold it felt like it was farewell; as if it would end eventually even though it just started. It has been a year since I've transferred schools, 365 business days to wander around; I haven't even thought of it that much but I didn't realize how many things had happened.

“Owhen!” I shouted trying to get the attention of my best friend. I love to call him “Owhen” although his real name is Lauren, because his family calls him that, and I find it endearing knowing his younger siblings call him that as well. He turned his eyes on to me, those eyes, those amber slanted eyes. What’s funny is he’s the last person who welcomed me to this school, but as they said “Save the best for the last.” He was my favorite. My favorite shade of my favorite color. My favorite dish of my favorite ingredient. In my eyes he was everything.

“Will we just have a staring competition?” he asked sarcastically.

“Oh, my bad I just zoned out, what were you saying again?”

“Weirdo, you’re the one who literally called me.” he answered

Owhen was my universe, and in the Milky Way, they saw, he’s the sun I orbit around. He spoke so loudly it felt like he was screaming, but he asked so softly it felt like he was lullabying like I was a baby he was trying to put to sleep. But Owhen is a whole different person if he’ll be seen from others’ perspective, the problematic, careless, negligent Lauren. He’s a breadwinner, he puts food on their table, he gives knowledge to his younger siblings, he carries the burden a two parents should do. In the wandering eyes of people around him, he couldn’t be Owhen.

The vacation started, and we also started losing contact. As I try hard to tan my skin in the morning sun on the beach, he also tans his skin effortlessly, ruining his skin barrier at work. Things happened too fast, I didn’t even realize I started to lose him. I lost Owhen. My only Owhen. He mailed me a letter of everything he felt while I enjoyed my vacation on the beach and at the bar with the girls I tried to flirt with–to forget him.

Now, as I walk through the hallways where I used to be with him, things were just different. I went to school earlier today, I just jumped through the walls like I used to do with him when he had to go to work. As the moonlight struck my curly hair, and as I breathed the morning air; all I could think was how could I do everything without him to bear? Lost in me a door so strangely familiar appeared, taking my attention from its eerie creaking sound. I knew this hallway too well to know it wasn’t there yesterday, nor the other previous days; and it was strangely placed where Owhen and I used to smoke when we knew we shouldn’t.

Curiosity starts to drive me crazy. I didn't even realize I’m now in front of it. Should I open it? Should I just let my curiosity stay as it is? Should I–the door kept opening itself, slowly, on its own rhythm, as if it's waiting for me to gather my whole courage to see what’s on the other side. I’ll open it, without fears, without hesitations, I’ll just run and let things happen, 3, 2, 1. I ran inside as fast as I could, and the light suddenly changed as if it was the brightest the sun could ever show. I tripped, and the moment I looked up, everything seemed so familiar. I stood up and scanned my eyes around, and everyone I knew looked so young.

I was still processing everything until a boy ran past and banged against me. I was ready to scream. He was a junior; he should know how to respect a senior. I turned around to the boy who flew after banging against me. All I could do was look. Everything makes sense now. It was the first day of school, my first day of meeting him, my Owhen.

Now I have the choice, will I do everything the way I did it before, and just enjoy his company? Or let him go so that we won’t have to collide paths again, and for me not to love him that way again?

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #11 (Falling Leaves of Autumn)

"Blood is thicker than water, but in the family tree, water is needed; and the roots of ambition dig deeper than family trees, leading us to paths where legacy is forged not by birth, but by the fire we walk through."

If you refer to my life as a palette of paints and hues, you’d be disappointed to only encounter monochrome; in a lifespan full of colors, I’ve been living in a lifetime of whites and darks. I work for the crocodiles, those who lead, those whore in control. Ever since I wanted to walk on this field, I was ready. Ready to walk into a room that's on fire, a room that’s full of the hopeless.

A decade ago, my life was never in terror, because in this field, as the crown of silence weighs heavier than the sword of truth, you’ll never get defeat — only the echo of battles you refused to fight. In the midst of my momentum, someone knocked at my door.

“Come in.”

“Det, I have news, bits of good and bad, as well.”

“Did you find something that could help for the testament?”

“Well that’s the bad news” my assistant replied

“So how come it’s a good news” I replied with irritation visible

“I know this is quite old and you probably left this as a scar” he said as an intro

“I found the letter of the massacre case you handled a decade ago.”

“What case?” I said in confusion

“Don’t you remember?”

It was the 13th of October 2000, in the midst of leaves falling due to autumn. A call poked my sleep; it was my wife; I was always in different states for work, away from her and our beautiful girl, our fruit of love. I thought she was just heating up and missed me, so in my half-sleeping consciousness, I just sent a voice message. A voice message that would mess things up.

Hours later, I woke up late for work. In a hurry, I forgot to open my phone, I took a bath, and hurriedly drove to our office. In the middle of the stoplights on red, I was also turning red; I would be later than usual. My phone rang once again. It's my neighbor.

“Man, I’m really sorry for your loss. I know this is a deep wound, and I apologize to the bottom of my life that I failed to look after your wife and your daughter,” he started, voice shaking

“What are you saying? What do you mean?” I replied, my mind was mixed with discombobulation and anxiousness.

“Don’t you know? A massacre happened last night, our village was attacked by unknown people. But there were rumors that the congressmen you fought against last month were seen outside the gate with 13 vans convoying them,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

I dropped my phone. I’m not mad at him for not keeping my wife safe, but I was mad that he wasn’t there. How come my wife had to die while they had the will to live? I trusted him. He was a policeman, surely, he was armed. How come he didn’t manage to do the only job I asked him to? How come he wasn’t there? Why did the congressmen attack my family and not me? My clouds were getting filled with heavy rain, ready to pour.

I picked my phone up, trying to be sorry, trying to ask him for details, trying to live with the information I just received. But no voices were coming out, and the moment it did, the only word I could say was “Fuck you!” I didn’t mean it. I wanted to say something more, but my mind was thinking something less. I ended the call, I felt like I was drowning, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see anything, I could only hear how my wife screams for my name, wishing I was there.

As I opened my phone once again, I saw that I sent a voice mail. My heart shattered into the smallest pieces as if it was a glass with what I saw. She was spamming me messages asking to call for help. But before my voice mail, it seems like she tried to call me and sent me a voice mail as well; but it seems like she didn't intend to send that. All I heard was her phone dropping and her crying—asking for mercy.

My eyes were somber, and I couldn’t see, until I came back to my senses. A vehicle patrol was knocking aggressively on my window. I’m still on the road. I’m still alive. I couldn’t bear to talk, so I just stepped on the paddle and drove as fast as I could. I didn’t know where to go, I didn’t know where my hands would bring me, but the only thing that I know is that my wife’s still waiting for me. In my mind, she’s still hiding in our cabinet while our daughter’s in her arms, scared. My family is still waiting for me.

As I arrived at our subdivision, my knees weakened. No one’s face was familiar. It was strangely familiar, the houses were surrounded with yellow tape, police mobiles everywhere, blood dried on the road, guns used were selected, it was like I still didn’t know what was happening. A cop wearing a full uniform approached me.

“Excuse me, mister, who are you? No one was allowed to enter until everything was investigated.” Investigate what? What is he saying?

“I live here. I was just out of town.”

“What’s your surname?”

I said my surname and he quickly searched for it on his papers.

“Oh, your wife and child were at the nearest hospital beside our station. I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied coldly

I ran to my car and sat, everything was blank, and suddenly I forgot to do anything, to drive, to move, to breathe, I forgot how to live.

My assistant snapped his finger once again, and I was back in stereo.

“Oh, it seems like you’ve remembered,” he said

“I never forgot it anyway,” I replied

“So what’s inside the letter?” I added

“I haven’t read it in case it was something personal,” he said and passed me the paper

“It’s not like she’ll wake up from her coffin and suddenly ghost you up,” I said, trying to lift up the mood. I opened the letter.

“My dearest, Theodore.

My love, what happened to us? I thought we were fine? I thought everything was alright? My love, if ever you find your way to this letter, I’m now hiding in our secret spot. You said I should hide here if I feel endangered. I didn’t think I’d hide from you. You called earlier, saying the congressmen won against the lawsuit you were helping defend, but I didn’t know what fully happened; I just heard shooting outside. I didn't expect it would be you. I trusted you my whole life, my Theodore, now your baby’s shaking beside me. I trust you to protect us, and now I don't know what will happen sooner, but please save us, or at least spare us some love.

Sincerely, Sienna.”

My heart broke into pieces. I didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t understand what was happening. But wait, have I told you? I was diagnosed with severe schizophrenia.

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #10 (Chimes of Yesterday)

"Each time the clock resets its chime, echoes of yesterday drift back through time." A phrase that’s easier to get fooled than to hurt yourself to accept the truth.

“Claire!” her uncle called.

For Claire, a day or two isn't a day to survive, but a day to end your time.

“Your mom is here, she’s waiting for you!” he added

She came down with a non-smiley face

“Oh, hi Claire. Long time no see, I missed you,” said her mom

“Can I go?” said Claire

They don’t want to let her, thinking she’s just trying to get away from confrontation. 

“I still have a lot to do, I have online classes tomorrow,” she added

“Oh, sure. Do well,” her uncle replied

As she walked towards the stairs, she looked at Claire’s emotionless mask, now with shattered glass and a bedspread on the ground.

“I thought you were getting better?”

Now trying to throw the small pieces of the sacred glass on Claire as she brushed her fingers on her wrist, a wrist filled with the past broken pieces of her glass, her mother’s glass. She doesn’t know what to say, saying she’s getting better would be like trying to deceive her face to face. But if she said she’s getting bad, she’d hate the consequences even more. In a household where dependency is like asking for help by drowning in a 4ft pool, she prefers to not swim anyway. But now asking those questions is like drowning in an unknown deepness of an unknown body of water asking for help to breathe but not to live.

“This is nothing” she replied and pulled her wrist

she heard her mother start talking again. Telling Claire’s truth to her mother is like creating a trap for herself; and now a trap is a trap where no one can save her anymore. Not even her strongest soldier, and fooling around is much worse than making your own path to death.

Days passed and her mother chose to stay there for a while. She felt like a puppy who got away from its owner but got found anyway; in a way she couldn’t get away.

“Claire, love”

“Oh, why are you here mom?”

“I just want to tell you something, but I really need you to be open minded”

She already knew what it was about, like she was listening to a hum of a music she knows better than anyone. But it’s not an arty-music, it’s a loud danger noise, like an alarm of bad things getting foreshadowed.

“I’ll bring you to where I live. I have to look after you.” she revealed.

It always happens. She just wants to show others that she was never a bad mother.

“When will we leave?” she replied

It’s like doors continuously opening and once you enter the new door other doors are locked.

“Later, so pack your things”

Claire’s mind has been a flowing river for hours, and it ran like it was in a marathon. She checked the time and realized that she only had a few hours to pack her things. 

She put everything she needs, clothes, meds, everything; those things were as light as an ant but burdens her as if she brings the whole land. As she got to clean her cabinets, she saw a watch. A gold watch with red plates. She thought she had moved on, she thought it wont hurt anymore, and now she sees herself in a form her mother broke her. Her lights finally flickered as she tried to be the lighthouse everyone wanted her to be, a symbolic source of hope; but her fire was never made for a never ending light, she’s tired, fragile, afraid.

As she was breaking down, she felt like she’s already blacking out. Then there’s someone knocking. She didn't bother in that case, until she heard a familiar voice, a voice she longed for.

“Claire”

“Lola!”

Her ears widen, knees get even more weaker.

“Happy birthday dear I have something for you, I know that you won’t appreciate this that much right now, but I hope you find the purpose of it soon.”

“What is it lola?”

As soon as she brought out a red box, Claire couldn’t handle it anymore. Does she feel guilt? Sorrow? She doesn't know. It’s like the sky and the ground chose to collide crushing her in.

“Wow! A watch! This looks expensive, la”

“It was, but it’s for you so it would be fine.”

“Red plates? How did you know that I love red lola?”

“I just know”

Suddenly Claire came back to her present self, and it felt like losing her mind. In a flash she saw her teenage self come inside again, angrily slamming the door this time.

“Claire! Watch your voice!”

“Why wouldn’t you just let me do what I want? You gave me a gift and you expect me to do what you want me to do with that gift?”

“I gave that to you for a reason! How do you expect me to react after seeing my gift to you in the jewelry pawn shop right after seeing you gambling?”

Claire was discombobulated, until she remembered everything. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. The good and the bad she has done.

After that incident, Claire was found shaking after collapsing on the floor.

“Am I the reason lola died?”

The first phrase she said after waking up.

“She died after she scolded me, she had a heart attack because of me”

It’s hard to agree but it’s harder to disagree. Does making her feel bad change anything? For Claire, her lola was her strongest soldier. The only person to stand up for her. The only person who’ll choose her in the midst of chaos; and disagreeing would make her feel bad, but it was the truth.  

The night they’re supposed to leave, she misses her lola even harder. But probably coming after her would give everyone the choice of convenience rather than pity. She didn’t leave a note, or something that would make a scene after what she had done. How did they see her? Hanging in the same room she thought she killed her lola, smiling.

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #8 (Desire)

My dearest, Sunbaenim. I wish I could lend you my eyes for you to see yourself as how I do. I probably haven't told you how much I love you, you always say no one does. I hate to see you look at yourself as an alien in your own world, you're as precious as a diamond. Diamond doesn't shine, it won't shine when you look at it but you'll see yourself. Unlike gold, people misunderstood it as a waste, waste of money, investment, everything. But i believe it's the way the higher its price goes up. I’m glad you started searching for your value, it took you years, I know; I also know that you still secretly wish you were like others, you never say it, but I still see how your eyes glimmer looking at them. Sunbaenim, I know you’re in control of your life, but I’m reassuring you that life won’t end when you let the rain out. I hope sooner or later, you’ll finally get out of the closet, a closet others’ built to cage you in.

Sincerely, eonna. 

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #7 (A Letter To Welcome You Home)

My dearest, Maria.

The first time I laid eyes on you, stars struck and aligned. You were so beautiful it reminds me of Aphrodite. For my eyes you shined so bright, I no longer question my brother Leon, whom you call Noel. I was overwhelmed with everything for that day; the way he brought you, and the way I didn't think you'd look that good. With that face of yours, I thought you were like those people in the city we admire, the ones that only show on television. But like them as well, I thought you were no good. But with all of my disappointment and walls built, I was wrong. Probably with the way you caress Labang's forehead, or the way you appreciated Nagrebcan.

With the warmest of our hearts, we hope you felt welcomed. We prepared so much that day we forgot to ask how you feel, but for now I wish you feel safe. I took the other way, the path that will lead us to the same destination but with different . With that trip not so long, you changed my perspective, you were the exact opposite; it's like I was tossing a coin and expecting heads with all of my bets on tails so I wont get disappointed. Sorry for changing the topic, but did you know how excited everyone was the moment Leon told us you'll come?  Please give tatay a chance to get to know you better, he was just shocked for sure. Here in Nagrebcan, our conservativeness is the most unknown treasure. But I reassure you, our hospitality will hook you; and for most we'll welcome you with warmth. I know it will take you time to fully let our values on to your soul, but please still try. For elders it was the most of our wealth, we for sure won’t let it be forgotten. Have I told you how our family gathered to prepare for your arrival? Oh I think we haven’t told you yet, every member of our family was close, even our third? fourth cousin? Yeah, everyone was invited.

For me, everything just makes sense. I’m sorry if you feel quite pressured, but I just keep those values in my life too deeply. It helped us be this close, and for me, this is the greatest wealth I could ever have. Again, welcome to our family, Maria.

Sincerely, Baldo.

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #6 Diary of Eddie

Dear diary, something happened today that I will never forget. The moment I saw my dog, Biryuk's eyes bleeding, everything started to bleed too, even those wounds I thought were stitched. No one would do it except one, my older sister Delia. I know she's hurt, and each time it happens I remind myself that I can't teach someone how to swim while they're drowning, but the thing is, she knows how to swim. She was taught how to swim, so I just watched her. I didn't know what to do because I, I can't swim. She was taught how to swim before she was freed in the ocean of unfairness of life; I had to drown to know how to swim. I wish I was taught too, but by our mother I never had a chance to meet, feel, see, and hear her. Delia kept blaming me for the thing I never had a choice about. I wish I could hurt her. I want her gone, but if she's gone, it would hurt much more.

[jellyaceiswow]

Writing Piece #5 (Sample Scene)

Red’s throat tightens as he stares at the vintage house in front of him; it’s like it’s been built even before the world war happened. Emotions were mixed: sorrow, doubts, everything started to reflect as he touched his one-piece earring—it was given by his girlfriend, no—ex-girlfriend. He started to reminisce until a low, trembling voice approached him; it was his grandmother. He was raised by her. Every time his mother doesn’t want any responsibility, he gets sent to her. He’s used to her; he finds comfort there if he’d be honest—but that was before he cut his blue hair off. He goes to his mother’s old room, where he used to sleep. He roams around to lessen his boredom, opening drawers everywhere. Until an old handwritten map caught his attention, it was just a normal map. Until he noticed that there was a letter behind it, he never met his father, but it seems like it’s from him. He left Red and his mother for his music career. “That explains why,” Red thought. He sat on the bed and played his mother’s old guitar; he always thinks it’s the only guitar that sounds the best. He felt so high once again; he always feels that whenever he hears music. Tears slowly dropped; he remembered something, someone. Red lost everyone for music, even his own family—the one he created. Then he remembered it was the exact handwritten map he gave his ex-girlfriend. He wrote each word, every single one of them. He’s overly discombobulated; he sat in the corner of the room, he didn't know what to do, and then he heard a rolling coin. It’s directed to him; he didn’t bother until the moment he saw the coin. The year was the year his son was born. He didn’t know what to do; guilt was eating him alive. He could be a great father—he promised himself to be a good father.

[iamnotaliar]

Writing Piece #4

Poem

A gentle brush caresses his knees, While the rough rocks lay beneath the trees. A boy so innocent, so naive. My beloved, marry me—he believed.

A hurtful ray flashed upon his body, Whilst his wife was sobbing loudly. The overwhelming regret wandered With the shrieking of his child that bothered.

The light of dawn brightened the field Like his precious youth he unsealed. One could not, but attempt To create the vivid scene he dreamt.

The warm dim of dusk, meteors flew, Like his doubts when one came through. “ My dear blas, don’t go too fast, Enjoy your youth as tis your last."

Nevertheless, one could not but agree To make his son happy, with glee. Though I plea to purse the right track, Yet my footnote to youth will never come back.

[jellyaceiswow]

Nagpost din naman ako pero di naman ganto kaganda