She found the balance of the hustle and the unwinding. — I’ve always dreaded the waiting season. To be fair, no one enjoys being put on hold. Waiting on the other end of the line, listening to the “elevator” music. The first few minutes are fine, but then the music never seems to end, always repeating. You can’t figure out anymore…

There is no thrill in trying to be gentle — to be compared to a fictional woman written by a man. — When we were young, we were told to be the ideal Filipina. Reading the books of the great Jose Rizal, and seeing how Ibarra pines for Maria Clara. And that was what our history teachers ingrained us to be. To be Maria Clara. To be as gentle as the leaves…

Written last 2019 I am a woman. I am a sister. I am a mother. I am a human. I am not an object, That is simply meant to be played. I am more than just some luck, That you can talk about me like some kind of subject. I am more than your lusts, That’s mere purpose is to open my legs. I do not deserve to beg, And only to be broken by men’s deadly threats. Respect me as a woman. Respect me as a sister. Respect me as a mother. Respect me as a human.

“I just don’t believe it will happen to me.” — Written last 2019. “So, what’s your story?” “What about it?” “Why do you not believe in love at first sight?” “Oh, I believe in love at first sight.” Silence as we drink the coffee. Until he breaks it. “But?” She sighs. “I just don’t believe it will happen to me.”

I wish I never met him in the first place. — Trigger Warning: Abusive relationship Note: This story is originally written in Filipino last 2019. “Who’s your ‘the one?’” He waited for my answer as I sip my coffee. Flavorful. Bitter. “What’s your understanding of the concept of ‘the one?’” I ask, answering his question. He looks at me, surprised. Nevertheless…

That’s when I know it’s real. When desire doesn’t leave in the morning. — There are nights when the hours pass by in a blur. And it usually ends in disappointment. The meeting is always accidental — reading a book in a cafe, drinking in a bar, watching a movie, or even running on the treadmill. But when he comes, he refuses to leave…

Will you still hold my hand if you knew, I could choose to hold another? — Would you still love me in my darkest times? When I refused to talk to anyone while talking to everyone? Would you wait for me on the other side of the door if I choose to lock the gates and shut you out while everyone in my life foolishly believes…

I promise to love you in times of happiness and sorrow. — Written last 2020. “Gwen, I remember the time when I first met you, I hated the sight of you. You were the new student in our high school when we were in junior year. When you walk, people can sense your presence. I immediately thought you were the know it…

I just thank God we got to talk again, even if it was by accident. — Written last 2020 August 5, 2017 Dear Nova, I can’t believe high school is finished. Do you believe it? We’re in college! Although, I didn’t expect you to move so far away. Why do you have to go to the other side of the world? I can see you’re trying…