For the night is dark and full of dreamers ♥


I saw a post in Pinterest that says ‘describe the color red but don’t use red’. And it was so marvelously written that it has moved me to create mine also. I chose black which I know is not a color. In fact, it is the absence of light where all colors come from. But it is for the same reason that it is isolated from all others that I believe it is a color of its own. 

[Describe black without using black.]

It is the color that you see when you choose to close your heart from what the world demands you to feel. It is the color of tranquility, of momentary rest, when nothing needs to be achieved, no one needs to be pleased and no pretentions are needed to cover a battered soul or a chaotic mind. It is what you see when you are done staring at your own pool of blood on the floor at 2am or the color that your exhausted senses welcome as you swallow a handful of pills. It is the color of your coffin, the color of tear-drenched funeral clothes. It is the color of your ashes as you meet the sea. It will not be the color that they’ll see when they’ll remember you. It was not the color of your favorite dish that your father loved to serve you. It was not the color of the first dress your mother had bought you. It was not the color of the fading edges of a photograph of your family a long time ago. It was not the color of the convenience store you used to go with your friends to waste time and have a laugh when everything else is so fucked up. It is not even the color of your tears as you decide to leave it all away. But all the same, it was the color of salvation. It was the only color that you saw.



Leave your marks all over my body. Claim every inch of it like you never knew what satisfaction means until you’ve had me intertwined, like you only know thirst since you tasted the breath of life in your lips until your tongue danced with mine. Paint my body red with every bite and every kiss from the curve of my neck to the inside of my legs down to the nerves at the tip of my toe. Reach inside me and find the galaxy you wanted to escape to.

My entirety is yours. It will always be yours. In every moment you decide it to be.


“Maybe the journey isn’t becoming anything at all. Maybe it’s unbecoming everything you think you should be so you can finally be who you are.”

I was switching between radio stations when I heard this quotation by chance. I remember being emotionally exhausted on top of going through thee burden of studying for the licensure exam. It is draining me beyond anything. So I lie there with my consciousness drifting between sleep and wakefulness when I heard that over the radio. It has then become so fitting at that instant as if those words were meant to be for me. And it struck me how a lot of aspiring youths like me would rather categorize themselves among others than realize that each of us are unique individuals. Everyday, since the moment we learned to read and write, we were taught to be this and that. We were taught to be a ‘what’ rather than a ‘who’. As for me, the goal would always be to succeed in the profession I had. But that’s what I wanted to become. That’s what I thought the whole journey was about. And that, I think, is what dehumanizes people as they grew up. Because we are so pressured by the expectations of society, we lose the sense of individuality and uniqueness. We would rather conform than be different. But we are different, you are you and I am me in every aspect, every bit of vulnerability and imperfections. That’s who we are. And somehow, I think this whole journey in life is suppose to teach us that. Maybe this is more on untangling the net of deception and expectations rather than covering ourselves with it. Maybe we are not meant to find a purpose, an explanation or a validation of why we are here at this very moment. Maybe we are not meant to find but rather to free ourselves and let that be the purpose, the explanation and sole validation of why we should be here.


All she wanted was for someone to be brave enough. All she is asking was for someone to stop her when her monsters take over. When they lash out, when they endlessly scream the disappointment and frustrations, when they pound so hard in her head like an alarm clock on snooze, all she wanted was for someone to care. That’s all. All she wanted was someone to realize she was in pain. All she needs is for someone to hold her hands and stop them from the physical torture they are doing to her body, to look at her angry and crying eyes and never look away from them, to not be afraid of being devoured.

But the moon waned, the sun rose and no one was brave enough. So when someone came in the middle of the havoc, she became so hopeful. But it was just her who came tired and sympathetic part of her who embraced the monsters like a mother’s welcoming arms extended to her child. It was that day when she cried out of exhaustion, of pity and of grief. It was just her all along, all this time of waiting for someone else to save her. 

It was the loneliest moment, realizing that. But it was also the strongest she would ever be.

She wanted a hero but time taught her to be one.

Your Light

To Naruto and Sasuke, you are more than anime characters to me. This is for you.


It was one of those many moments when I have fallen prey to the misery of my own existence that I am awaken by something. It was dark and it was cold but something had called me from afar, had needed me from afar. I followed the path towards you but what met me in the end was no colder and darker than the path I left behind. It was you who had called. It was your heart looking for another lost soul to embrace and to share the burden and though you may not recognize it yourself, I know it was you. For a broken boy only knows too well what another broken boy looks like. And although you ran and chose to be consumed with hatred, I tried my hardest to turn your way to the light which had led me to you. I persisted. Because to me, you are important. To me, you are someone who can love as much as you have allowed yourself to hate. I ran and ran until my legs are to the point of breaking, my hands are to the limits of being stretched from reaching out to you. But once I caught up, you intended to extinguish the light connecting us.

And you did. 

But I was glad that you did.

For through that darkness engulfing us, you had the freedom to show your burden and your tears. So for awhile, let me relieve you from that despair and hatred I knew all too well. Let me share the love I have received, the same love you have refused yourself to have. Let me be here for you. Because that’s what friends do.


“Ore wa anata no hikaru ni naru.”


“I will be your light.”

What a beautiful fanart this one is. All credits of course goes to the awesome person who did this.

A Reminder

I want to capture your laughter and pour it in a bottle where I can keep it safe and close. I want to be able to drink it in times when I lose myself in my own madness, driven to hopelessness by self-inflicted pain. I want to remember, to know, to convince myself that I am someone who can make somebody produce that mirthful sound. I have to know. I have to be able to save myself when no one else will.

I want to hold your tears on the palm of my hands. I want to remember how it feels like to see so close the pain of another. I want to remember the feeling of wanting to protect another person. I need to know that I have to breathe for another day to be by your side and that I have to be okay for me to soothe your grieving heart. I can’t drown in my own sorrow because I have someone else to save and someone else to be happy for.

I want to keep the anguish and pain that you have received from someone else. I want it to course through me in times when I am tempted to choose what is easy than what is right. I need to be reminded that I have to win my battle for you. I need them so I could tell myself to be strong and to endure more.


I want to etch your whole being into my memory. I want to be reminded that I can love this much too.

Those of Us

Those of us who see only ugliness in ourselves could only offer as little as our whole being. Those of us who love so much could only beg for that love in return. Those of us who suffer could only ask for nothing but a head turned our way, a touch of sympathy or words of kindness. Those of us who would cross willingly the line between life and death could only hope for the tiniest pull from someone else — just someone to care even if it’s only temporary.


But there are times when the world just decides to deprive us of that little drop of life we are thirsty of.


People aren’t born monsters. People become one between answers untold and questions unasked. When the world doesn’t care enough to listen to that pleading voice between the silence, to hold the child inside the eye of a walking storm, to stop and look for a heart when everyone else says it does not exist, those of us learn to curse it instead.


And the world knew what our wrath means.

And the world knew what coldness means.

And the world felt what living and dying means at the same time.

Supposed to Be

What happened?

It was like the familiar street which had been our pillows at midnight when the ones in our bed would rather pull us into our nightmares turned into a stranger’s home. I walked on the same pavement, waited under the same street lamp and looked for you on the same spot across me. But you weren’t there. You were supposed to be there. You were supposed to arrive 10 minutes late, like always. And as always, I would still be there waiting. Waiting, because I know you’d arrive. We were supposed to waste precious time we could have devoted to much serious things like what others are doing. But you and I are not others, right?

You aren’t. You weren’t.

Did you just leave because you got sick of me? Was there no explanation? Was that something between us so passing that you’ve decided to abandon me like a suitcase when you’ve found a home to settle in? Am I not supposed to call for you to comeback? Am I not supposed to find you instead?

Two hours had passed. A day. Another night. Everything is becoming blurry now. I don’t know if these are my tears or the memory of you and I fading instead. But I will wait. Because that was how it’s supposed to be.

At World’s End

Sometimes her excuses catch up to her. Sometimes they swallow and blind her wholly. So sometimes, she just lets them. And then she wanders there in her own pointless world like Captain Jack Sparrow in Davy Jones’ locker— hopelessly lost but with all the company she needed at that particular moment. Her and herself.

But as often as those episodes of aimlessness drown her, she had always found herself beckoned by reality, by the people around her. And it’s like being doused in ice in the middle of blazing summer— she always had to wake up slapped with the things she needed to do, things she was told she must do for herself and things everyone else wants her to do.

And now that she had returned, once again bearing the ocean’s weight on her shoulders, she looked around and suddenly felt a pang a sadness. She remembered something — a question asked by Captain Jack Sparrow. It had been funny at that time, listening to him ask them. Now, she just understood how sad it is to ask for that slice of truth even if the one asking is known to have a hard shell for a heart.

“Did no one rescue me just because they missed me?”

She is not ready for whatever their answer might be. She’ll never be. No matter how cold-hearted others might think she might be.


All day she had waited. All day she had hoped. But when they came, they came first for what they needed before who they wanted.

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