somewhere, somehow, you turned the hourglass upside down, and from then on, we knew: neither of us could stay. we weren’t built for a long romance, just one along its edges. and as the grains of sand make their way to the bottom cylinder, so are our memories shedding: one by one, piece by piece.

this is not for us, we insist. so what, then, is for us? watching movies while we hold our hands in the dark? sunday breakfasts and mid-week coffee dates? an extra nursery in our two-storey bungalow? no. none of them is for us. none of anything is for us.

we will never be more than two strangers in a chance encounter, fueled by whatever vices we have that keeps us going. and these vices can only keep us up for some time. and that time is up. and so are we.

somewhere, somehow, we took chances that led to nothing. but that’s okay. it’s better than where it could have led to.

Hours before enrolment, and I’m already begging: I need this summer to be okay. I don’t need it to be great, or breath taking, I just need it to be okay. 

See, three months have passed since the start of the new year, and 2014 is turning out to be more depressing than ever. It’s a quarter year filed with loss, heartbreak, failures, and downfalls; I’m not even sure how much I can still take.

Sometimes (read: always), though, I feel like it’s my own fault anyway. Maybe I should have studied harder, or been more honest, or said the right things, but does it really matter still? I find myself in the here and now, and whether I like it or not, I have to face the consequences of my (in)actions.

Forgive me if I whine like a teenage bitch, but I just had to put it out there, out here. I need this, or else I won’t have much to look forward to anymore.

I didn’t plan on being there for you that October night. But you were already crying, and I had nothing else to do. Like a good human being, I just had to listen. I didn’t know much about you then, and even now I’m as clueless. But I listened - because that’s the only real thing I have yet to suck at.

I was wrong. I did suck at listening. But the problem wasn’t processing the words you tell me. The real situation was that there were words you never uttered, and yet expected me to hear. “How could you have missed it?" are examples of those. I never had an answer. I never thought there was a question.

Now that I know, I still can’t answer. Because I find it unfair to even engage in this bickering when it never happened for me but it always did for you. See? Just establishing if it’s okay to fight is a source of a fight in itself.

Let’s understand this: there’s nothing to understand.
All we were was a flash in a pan. All we ever will be is nothing.
And now that you’re dying, though I have nowhere else to be, I choose not to be here for you anymore.

Anonymous asked:
I'm a guy and I think I love you already.

No, don’t say that. You’ll regret it the moment you get to know me.

Anonymous asked:
You think falling in love with a writer is a good idea? :)

Yes.

Unless you’re not prepared to cling to his every word. Often times, you will find yourself looking for a semblance of you in his poems. You have to accept that not everything he writes is about you. But take comfort in the fact that he does not write everything he thinks, and that not everything he writes is real.

But probably the most the difficult thing to realize is that just because you understand what he writes, doesn’t mean you understand him. Writers are so much more than the words they publish. In fact, it’s probably even better to understand what he doesn’t write. And when you have finally figured out how he chooses between what to write and what not to write, that’s how you really know that you really know him. 

But I don’t know, maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but since when is falling in love really a bad idea? :)

Anonymous asked:
You've been writing a lot. Wow. Your sad makes me sad haha miss you Jyle

I don’t know if it’s because I have time now, or because I’ve made time now lol. Don’t be sad for me. Be sad for the people who think sadness is a disease.

I miss you, too! Well, at least if I guessed right as to who you are. :)

I understand that I don’t always have to understand things. I get it: not all that are broken needs to be fixed, and not all that I want to fix are broken. 

There are words that deserve to be written, like an epitaph on the tombstone of a loved one. But there are thoughts that have no place beyond the insides of the mind. And if you can’t read them without me telling it straight, there’s just no point in saying them anymore.

Yes, this is a cop-out. But I’ve been telling everyone our story all week long, and my courage, or lack thereof, doesn’t even matter anymore. We’re done here. I will leave you in peace, while you allow me to live in pieces.

Anonymous asked:
ANG TANGA MO

Oo nga e. Alam ko naman. Minsan, ang hirap lang aminin.