They called the two of us boring…

little did they know we’ve been to more lands, worlds, and universes

than any traveler on this planet has already been.

We were sapionaut lovers drifting away in the infinite void of our consciousness,

and all they could they see are our stationary smiles.

Boring, they said.

We laughed.

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How I wish I were never born
so that the day when I met you
would never come
and that our sweetest memories
would never be shared.

How I wish I were never born
so that we would never break
each other’s hearts
and we would never shed
the ever-bitterest tears.

How I wish I were never born
because I’d rather not exist at all
than to live all my life believing
that I could be happy for once
when it was all just a futile lie.

How I wish I were never born
so I would never bear the hell
of seeing you in despair
and losing grasp of your hand
in failing to free you from your chains.

How I wish I were never born
for living a life without you
is worse than dying the most painful death
or burning in the eternal inferno
or even not having existed at all.

How I wish I were never born
knowing that you are here
in the same world as me
under the same stars
but will
never
be.

She was a Capulet,
and he was a Montague,
and everyone knows
the fate of a star-crossed love–

A cupful of poison
and a dagger to the heart,
for better or for worse
till death do us part.

The world is full of Romeos and Juliets
and all that stood against them
and the saddest thing about this story
is that you can’t rewrite a classic tragedy.

The playwright has set the stars.

All those nights we were stargazing,
I wasn’t looking at the sky.
I was looking at her face,
for she was more beautiful than a billion stars.

I was fearless before I met you
but you taught me the fear of losing you.
For the first time in my life, I was afraid
and then suddenly you left me alone.
Now, even the ghosts of the earth
nor the demons of hell scare me not
for what else have I left to fear
when my greatest fear of you being gone
is what I face every break of dawn?

You made me what I am– Fearless.

A Change of Face, a Change of Purpose

How much could change in just 365 days?

Apparently, much.

I know we can all relate to procrastination and very impulsive decisions that we just realize we couldn’t commit to in the end. Case and point, this one. “I’m gonna start myself a blog,” said the July 2016 me, and wrote very tediously for a good month, then soon after, simply went on doing other endeavors.

We always wanted to do something. We always wanted to be something. But sometimes we just do not have the will to do it. Perhaps we got lazy, perhaps we got intimidated, or worse, perhaps our dreams simply… die.

We’re all victims of dead dreamsPerhaps if there would be a list of universal human experiences, this would be one of them, and probably make it to the top.

Come to think of it, when you were young and were asked what you want to become when you grow old (and you’re a child with stereotypical dreams like me), you would answer, “I want to be an astronaut!” “I want to be a paleontologist!” “I want to be the president!” all with a very enthusiastic exclamation point. Read more

Too Old for Crushes, too Young for Love

On concepts of love and maturity– and if you will ever be ready for it

“What is love?”

Most of us have encountered answering this question even at a  very early age.

My classmates during my elementary days have these so-called “Slam Books” and “Autograph Bookswhich they pass to everyone they know in school. Most of these books contain questions, mostly personal ones, about their lives. As I recall, most questions in these books ask about basic biographical details such as birthdays, parents’ and siblings’ names, addresses and contact details. Then it gets more personal with questions asking about dreams and aspirations,  philosophies in life, firsts, names of crushes and worst enemies, most memorable and embarrassing moments and the list goes on.

However, there was one specific recurring question that these books never miss out–“What is love?”

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Everyone of us has this pre-thought-out answer to that question when we were young. I remember myself having one before, but I can’t remember the exact words. Most of us probably don’t anymore. What I’m trying to point out here is that we have been familiar with the concept of love even as children. We have been trying to define it ever since.

Funny how we have been answering “What is love?” in slam books as children, and yet now we still can’t even tell the slightest definition of love as adults.

All of us may have our own answers, but we can’t seem to point out the correct one.


Read more

I don’t care about you.

I don’t care about how you look.
I don’t care whether you
look good or not.
I don’t care when you choose to
put make up on your face,
or choose to go out with
your bedraggled hair.

I just don’t care.
I don’t care about your talents.
I don’t care if you can dance.
I don’t care about how
sophisticated you can think.
I don’t care about your interests.
I don’t even care if you
like this poem at all. Read more

To Love a Sapiosexual…

Superficiality, colorism, and why you should fall in love with intelligence instead

Sapiosexual (neologism)

(noun)
– One who finds intelligence the most sexually attractive feature; behavior of becoming attracted to or aroused by intelligence and its use.

Etymology:
From the Latin words ‘sapien’ and ‘sexualis’ which relates to being wise/intelligent and the sexes, respectively.sex326695

“Talk nerdy to me…”

Living in a  society that worships round butts and big breasts, where everything you hear on the radio would be about sex if not drugs, money or glitters, where everything you watch is about celebrities shaking lumps of fat on their behinds and flaunting their silicon-stuffed mammary glands, it’s hard not to be influenced by what the society wants us to see– altering our perceptions of art, ideals for conservatism and standards of beauty.

It is even harder when you live in an oriental country whose culture is heavily influenced by mainstream western culture. I’m no exception to this. It’s very strange that despite belonging in a race with brunette hair, tan skin and dark-brown eyes, our common ideal for beauty would be something considered as a genetic impossibility– pale skin, light brown, blonde or red hair and irises with colors ranging from hazel brown, blue or green.

In a nutshell, our concept of beauty is nothing close to what we are.

Read more