I wrote this piece when I was 22; a naive, disillusioned girl who dreamt of something big but never had a chance to realize it.
Feeling nostalgic, I cleaned out some of the boxes housing manuscripts and quickly scribbled nothings in napkins and torn pieces of paper. It was nestled between two stickers that melded together, its adhesive just melted over time.
It was one of the poems I wrote when everything seemed to be crashing down, a reminder that an idealistic fool thought she could rule the world, but the world was too big for her even to navigate through.
At sixteen, many realizes that they’re on top of the world. Well, at least I thought I was. And when reality comes knocking, it does knock… and boy, does the realization reality bit me hard. Continue reading At Sixteen
I found myself staring at a blank page for what seemed like an hour or so, trying to find words that I no longer can remember.
Have you been in this situation a lot?
I have… and it’s worse than writer’s block.
I’m prone to rambling and I’ll take this opportunity to apologize because I need to write it down or forever hold my peace. So bear with me if you can as I strive to make sense out of the craziness of it all.
You see, it’s been a cloudy weather inside my fishbowl head for quite some time now. It taunts me and tells me, “Hey! There are a lot to write about. But let’s make it a bit more interesting by making it a bit cloudy so the obvious is not that obvious.” Continue reading Cloudy With A Chance Of Crazy
I’d like to share a poem I wrote when I was in my early twenties. It was during a time when I was lost, confused and angry at life… at everything. A time I swore I wouldn’t want to experience again for as long as I live.
I barely recognized myself during those times. I was hurt and lonely. Nevertheless, I took a creative turn for it and just poured everything out on paper. This is one of the results of those angry, bitter, sleepless nights. Continue reading Heart Beats
When I was a kid, my parents used to warn me to keep my hands behind my back whenever we’re in the fragile part of a department store (i.e., the glassware and home accessories section). My mom would tell me that if I break something, I’ve got to pay for it. For a kid with limited funds, that’s enough to make me get scared and opt-out from the excursion on that part of the store.
Now, looking back on those words, I can’t help but relate it to every day my life, but it a less literal way.
I learned early on that glass, ceramics and porcelain are not the only things that can break. Trust, hope, love and all the abstract things in our lives can be broken too — and we have to pay for it one way or another. Continue reading You Break It, You Pay For It
Yes… it’s been months of radio silence, and I promise that there’s an acceptable reason for it. But before I try to explain my prolonged absence from the Blogosphere, I wanted to tell you something with how crazy this chick can get some or most of the time.
Writing has been and always will be a sort of therapy for me. When things get to overwhelming, I write — whether I’m too happy or I’m too sad. Somehow, I can’t get into the middle ground of the emotional spectrum. Beats me. Continue reading Is It Or Isn’t It?