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Faith in the Ashes of Dreams

@furitoji | March 23 7:19PM

I walk a path not of my choice,

Silent steps, a muted voice.

The weight I bear, none else will see,

A duty bound, yet longing free.

As a child, I dreamed in shades of gold,

Soft whispers of a story untold.

But dreams were luxuries I couldn't keep,

So I tucked them in and let them sleep.

Years have passed, the struggle stays,

Though brighter now in subtle ways.

I give, I carry, I stand alone,

A pillar carved from flesh and bone.

Yet in the quiet, late at night,

I hear my heart’s unspoken plight.

Where do I fit? What space is mine?

In this vast life, where do I shine?

Endurance taught me how to wait,

To bend beneath the hand of fate.

But still, I hope, I search, I yearn,

To find the self I once deferred.

So let not time erase my name,

Nor duty dim my inner flame.

I pray this road leads somewhere bright,

Where dreams take wing and soul finds light.

One Sip of Poison

@furitoji | March 21 8:57 PM

One sip of poison, all it takes,

To watch a body bend and break.

A whispered threat in veins runs deep,

A promise made, yet never cheap.

A single breath of tainted air,

A touch unseen, yet lying there.

The silent creeping of decay,

That steals your strength and walks away.

A moment’s choice, a life undone,

By careless hands or hidden ones.

Be it hunger, be it greed,

Or trust misplaced in time of need.

The doctor sighs, the hours fade,

A price too steep, too late to trade.

One sip, one dose, one small mistake,

And all that's left, a heart that aches.

I realized that I don’t want to reach a point in my old age where my kids will have to worry about my medical expenses because I failed to save and prepare for myself when I had the chance. I don’t want to see them struggling, stressed about where to find money for hospital bills, or sacrificing their own needs just to cover what I should have planned for long ago.

I now understand that financial preparedness isn’t just for me.. it’s for them too, to give them the freedom to live their lives without the burden of my shortcomings. I refuse to leave them with the weight of my unpreparedness. So, while I still have time, I will start securing my future.. not just for myself, but for them as well.

In the archipelago’s embrace, a leader once stood tall,

With iron will, he faced the call.

From Davao’s streets to Malacañang’s gate,

He sought to shield his land from fate.

Through fire and storm, his banner waved,

Yet choices made, both bold and grave,

Drew watchful eyes from lands afar,

Where justice weighs both wound and scar.

Now in The Hague, his fate unfolds,

A leader bound by stories told.

From power’s peak to judgment’s stand,

A nation’s past within his hands.

O, Philippines, your journey flows,

Through trials only history knows.

May wisdom guide and mercy find,

A path where truth and grace entwine.

#WeStandforFPRRD

Grief in disguise

@furitoji | March 7, 2025 8:17PM

I saw you crying when you thought no one could see,

Fear in your eyes, pain weighing heavily.

You spoke in whispers, your voice was shaky echoes,

And in that moment, I felt it all.

But I stayed silent, held my ground,

Afraid my words would just fall down.

For I was never one to show,

The love I hide, the care I know.

Yet, Mama, hear me in the quiet space,

In the way I stand, in the way I brace.

I may not say the words you need,

But in my strength, I let you breathe.

I will be your pillar, firm and true,

Though my heart aches, I’ll stand for you.

You are not alone, not now, not ever

In silence or speech, we’ll face this together.

__________________________________________

When I learned the true condition of my mother’s illness. I wasn’t sure how to react. Deep inside, I felt a sharp, aching pain, even though I’ve never been one to openly express my emotions especially toward my parents, given our complicated history. I’ve always maintained a certain emotional distance from them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

Earlier, as I reviewed the CCTV footage, I saw her crying while talking to her eldest sister. She looked terrified and heartbroken. Witnessing that moment affected me more than I expected.

Yet on the surface, I remained composed and silent, as if unaffected because allowing myself to break down wouldn’t change anything. Letting my emotions take over wouldn’t help her or the situation.

As her eldest daughter, I know I have to be strong. I need to be her pillar of support, ensuring she doesn’t lose hope. Even if I struggle to put my feelings into words, deep down, I carry the weight of it.

Magaraya

@Furitoji | March 6, 2025

As we sat across from each other, the conversation dwindled into a quiet lull,both of us grasping at fleeting topics that failed to take root. The minutes felt stretched, not by awkwardness, but by a shared understanding that neither of us had more to offer at that moment. Rather than forcing an extension of time that had already run its course, I chose to leave preferring the brevity of our meeting over the weight of an unspoken obligation to linger.

Beyond the pages, I am seen.

@furitoji | November 2024

They call me a thinker, a keeper of words,

Lost in the pages, where wisdom is stirred.

A wanderer drifting through ink stained seas,

As if that’s the only version of me.

But I know the rhythm of laughter and light,

I speak in their language when the moment is right.

I listen, I learn, I shift, I bend

Yet I choose with care the ones I call “friend.”

Not time, but presence, defines who will stay,

Not years, but the depth of the words that we say.

For those who see past the stories I weave,

Are the ones I hold close, the ones I believe.

So let them assume, let them guess who I am,

I walk my own path, not theirs to command.

For friendship is not in the length of the tie,

But in hearts that meet and never pass by.

Story time about the poem Fading Echoes that I wrote.

When I was 14, we met at a summer youth camp. I had a crush on him back then he was the lead guitarist, tall, and undeniably attractive. It was that classic infatuation, the kind that makes your heart race for no reason. We started texting because, at that time, SMS was the trend social media hadn't fully taken over yet. I always found ways to get his attention through texts, even though he took forever to reply. But I endured it, patiently waiting, convincing myself it was worth it. Then, one day, I just stopped. The messages faded, and eventually, so did our communication. Years passed, and life went on. We were both employed he pursued his career in a hospital, while I navigated in the corporate world. Out of nowhere, he reached out again. We exchanged messages on a platform, catching up on life.

But the feelings?

The excitement?

The butterflies?

They were gone.

Everything just felt...Normal.

Maybe that's just how life works. As I grow older, my perspective changes. The people I once admired the first love I thought was perfect, the crush I swore was my ideal eventually become just ordinary in my eyes. He never as special as I imagined. It wasn’t them who changed, but me. My standards, my dreams, and even my heart have evolved. What once felt like the whole world now seems like just a passing chapter in my story.

Hollow

Written by: Fsanchez

February 27, 2025|11:31PM

There comes a point in a relationship when you remain, not out of love, but out of habit when the spark has faded, and the feelings you once held so deeply now feel like a distant memory. The love you once believed in becomes questionable, almost unrecognizable.

Perhaps this is how it always goes when a relationship turns into a disappointment. At first, you fight, you cry, you beg, you chase, desperate to hold onto what once was. Then comes the stage of surrender, where you let go, allowing them to come back, trying to fix things in their own way. And because you still love them, you let them. You convince yourself that maybe things will be different. Yet, the cycle repeats, unchanged, relentless.

Eventually, you grow indifferent. You let them stay, but not because you still feel the same. You no longer react, no longer care as much. It is what it is. But they will start to notice, the warmth you once gave so freely is gone. Because when they had it, they never truly valued it. And now, all that remains is a hollow version of what once was.

Cat fight

Story inspired: Jessie Sanchez

Written by: Fsanchez

Artby: leo.forest

February 28, 2025| 9:26pm

Looking back on our childhood, my siblings and I were like wild little cats always teasing, wrestling, and engaging in playful fights. What began as harmless punches and mischievous pranks often escalated into full-blown catfights, only to end in laughter, as if no battle had ever taken place. Our home was filled with noise the sound of our bickering, our uncontrollable giggles, and the footsteps of children chasing one another inside our home. Those chaotic moments, though exhausting for the adults, were the very essence of our bond.

But as time passed, life pulled us in different directions. We each found our own circle of friends, our own passions, and our own paths to follow. The energy that once shook our home slowly faded, replaced by long stretches of silence. No more surprise tackles, no more petty squabbles over the last piece of candy only the distant echoes of a childhood that once was.

And yet, though our home has grown quieter, the memories remain. They live in our smiles when we reunite, in the playful jabs we throw at each other even now, as grown ups. No matter how different we’ve become, how far our journeys have taken us, the bond of siblings built on years of mischief, fights, and love will always hold us together. Time may have calmed the storms of our youth, but it can never erase the connection we share.

I made peace with the fact that I can’t do everything, but I can do my best. Life is unpredictable. Plans change. Responsibilities pile up. As a working mom and a solo parent, I carry more than I ever thought I could, and sometimes, guilt follows me like a shadow. The missed moments, the times I wasn’t there, the exhaustion that keeps me from being fully present—it all weighs on me.

But I’ve learned that peace doesn’t come from doing everything perfectly. It comes from knowing that I am showing up in the best way I can, even when it doesn’t feel like enough. My love is in the sacrifices, in the late nights, in the tired but determined steps forward. I may not always be able to control how much time I have, but I can control how I make the most of it.

And I trust that no matter what happens, my children will know they are loved. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about being perfect—it’s about being there in the ways that truly matter.

@furitoji • February 26, 10:59PM

The Curse of Knowing

Written by: FSanchez

February 22, 2025| 11:59PM

In the quiet dusk of understanding,

a secret flame begins to stir

a tender burn at the edge of sight,

whispering of truths too raw to name.

I have seen fire creep along your feet,

an ember trail of both pain and grace;

yet you smile, undaunted by the blaze,

calling it the warmth of the sun.

In that paradox of light and scorch,

lies the curse of knowing a luminous ache,

where every spark of insight illuminates

both the beauty and the scars of being.

Each step you take is marked by fire,

a silent testament to the cost of truth;

yet in the glow, you dance with the shadows,

embracing the burn as your own sunrise.

For wisdom is a fierce, unyielding heat

a gift that burns yet awakens the soul,

transforming every searing moment

into the eternal warmth of the sun.

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