With love


With love 

my mother kept me alive,

And taught me how to count

from one to five


With love

I cried in an empty room,

Vowing to never let a man

decide my doom


With love

I was speechless,

When he knelt on one knee,

as the sun set on the glistening sea


With love 

I beared the pain of giving birth

To a child more beautiful 

than anything of this earth


With love

he cried over my body

as my spirit slowly left me


Love after all

makes life worth it.

With love,

Everything is just bittersweet

Nightmares and sweet realities



I woke up with a start, the vivid images from my dream digging into my skin. I was shaking, sweat pouring profusely from its glands. I tried to shake off the feeling, trying to get a grip on reality. My arms on instinct snaked their way onto my husband’s side, and I breathed a sigh of relief to find him there. I began to shake him awake, afraid of being alone. The room seemed to be closing in on me, the darkness and silence as deafening and as blinding. He soon woke up, sluggishly opening his eyes. These eyes whoever, widened at the sight of me.

“Honey? Are you alright? What happened?” He frantically searched my body, his eyes scanning every inch of me. When he was done, he turned back to me, looking at me intensely in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

I began shaking again, and he hugged me tight. The warmness emanating from him was a gift from heaven, as I inhaled his scent of pine trees and mint. I tried to calm myself again, breathing in heavily. He pulled me closer to him, his big arms wrapped around me. I took a big breath, before burying myself deeper to his chest.

“I-I had a bad dream.” I said, my voice shaking with every word. When he didn’t say a thing, it urged me to continue. “You left me. You said you were tired of me. Then you shot me in the heart, and ran as far away as you could.”

Everything flashed in my mind, the feeling of loneliness, and death that was slowly creeping into me. To some, I might sound like a lovesick teenager, but this man was literally my rock. He made it impossible for me to live without him. Without him, I’d be a walking dead person. My husband only kissed my forehead, trying to calm me. I didn’t even know I was crying till he wiped a tear from my eye.

“It was just a dream, alright honey? Just a dream. I’m here.” 


I looked up onto his eyes, and I saw only sincerity. Gosh, I love this man. He closed the distance between us as he kissed me on the lips, sparks flying everywhere. His grip on my hips tightened, closing any milimeter of distance between us. When we finally let go to breathe, a thought entered my head.
“But what if you’re a dream too?” I asked, my voice faltering.

He surprised me by biting the tip of my nose, making me smack his face away. 

“What was that for?” I asked, rubbing my injured nose. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“Of course it did!” He lowered his head to kiss my nose, his warmth spreading all over it.

“Then you’d know that this isn’t a dream. I’m here. I’d always be here.”

My heart fluttered like a bird, as he cuddled me into his arms. We fell asleep like that, just hugging. I knew that no nightmare would ever harm me, as long as it was sweeter in reality.


————–

Fiction. I texted this to my boyfriend the other day when he asked me to imagine married life with him. I came up with this one. 🙂

Little Timmy

“Go to hell you stupid prick!”

I heard mommy yell. She began throwing things at daddy again, and he only turned to me with a sad smile. Her face looked like a dragon, and I could see the smoke coming out of her nose. I laughed, but daddy put his finger to his lips, which was code for ‘be quiet’.

“Go to the secret room Timmy. Mommy and I need to talk.” He whispered, giving me the small wooden sword he made for me earlier. I nodded, and gave daddy a kiss. The sword was really heavy, but Mr. Teddy helped me carry it.

“So that’s what you’re going to do now? Make our son run and hide? Am I a monster in your make believe world?”

I saw daddy wave at me, and I knew that it was code to run. I ran up the stairs like dad told me to, and soon jumped on the string that dad tied to the secret stairs leading to the room. I stumbled going up, with Mr. Teddy wanting to climb up first.

“We have to be careful Mr. Teddy!” I whispered.

Mr. Teddy nodded at me, then we slowly went up. I soon saw Mr. Wizard with his hand stretched to me. He was a very old man who had a green dress. I laughed when I met him, because what kind of guy wears a dress?

“Little Timmy!” He bellowed, “Shall we go to your castle?” He said, his beard puffing as he talked. It was almost to his knees, and it went up and down when he opens his mouth.

I giggled, and I took his hand. Mr. Wizard tied a rope around me, then pulled it to secure it just like dad does. I showed him my sword, and he smiled at me. He waved his old hands on the sword, and just like that it became shiny. Dad’s painting was right in front of us, and Mr. Teddy jumped in first, wearing his armor.

“I’m going to get our son Michael! I won’t let you poison him with your stupid stories! We’re leaving!”

My mom was shouting again, and I knew that she was right below me because Mr. Wizard put his finger to his lips and pointed downstairs. I nodded, and I copied his motion.

“Timothy! Get down here now! We are leaving your father!” The door to the room was banging, and I felt my heart going baboom!

“Quick Little Timmy. Into the castle we go!” Mr. Wizard pulled my hand and we both jumped into the painting, and the green grass of the castle made me happy, just like it always did. I didn’t hear my mom’s voice anymore as we strode into the gold walls of the castle. Everything was shiny and quiet, with the guards wearing a suit. Teddy was the main guard, who saluted at me. We walked to the throne room, where my crown waited in place, next to daddy’s big crown. Mommy never wears her crown, but then she never comes to my castle.

“Do you think daddy will come?” I asked Wizard.

“He always comes Timmy.” He replied, ruffling my hair. “Would you like me to escort you to your room?”

I nodded, feeling a bit sleepy.

“Could you bring me a glass of milk and cookies please?” I asked, putting on my puppy dog face.

My dad says it always works with Wizard, since they’ve known each other longer. He laughed loudly, and smiled at me. He looked like Santa Claus sometimes, but Santa wouldn’t wear a green dress. We went to my room, which was bigger than our house! I had all my toys there, and Teddy was inside too, looking all serious. He was really such a softie.

I felt a tug at the rope from the other side, and that’s when I saw my dad running towards me. He had a big smile on his face, and he wore his crown. He immediately hugged me, kissing me on my forehead.

“Are you ready to go to sleep little guy?” He asked, putting me down on my bed. Teddy shrunk and crawled to my side, and I hugged him tight. Dad soon hummed me to sleep, and I smiled at him.

“Dad, is mommy ever going to come here?”

He looked sad for a moment, and I felt sad too.

“She’s not going to come here for a while little Timmy. Now go to sleep.”

When I woke up the next day, Daddy was by my side, still asleep. I walked around the castle, following the scent of pancakes and honey. That’s when I saw a figure I’ve never seen before in the castle. My mom. I immediately ran to her, hugging her right leg.

“Get off me you- Oh hi honey!” My mom looked like a Queen, with her crown on her head. She was smiling at me, something I haven’t seen on mommy’s face for a long time.

“Mommy, is that for me?” I said, pointing to the pancakes.

She nodded at me, then lifted me up to the stool. I giggled as she touched a tickle spot, and she only gave me a confused look. She then sat down on a chair beside me, watching me eat like a big boy.

“Timmy, do you like it here?” She asked. I nodded vigorously, and she looked sad.

“But I like it better when you’re here mommy!” I smiled, trying to make her smile too. But she only looked more sad, but didn’t say a word. A few minutes later, we were walking towards the door that lead to our house.

“Mom, daddy is still asleep in my bedroom, would you like me to wake him up so we could go home together?”

Mommy began to look like a dragon again, huffing and puffing. She then took me up, then carried me towards the door. I cried so loud that Teddy heard me. He was by my side in an instant. He took me from my mommy’s hands, then he led her out the castle.

“You think you’ve won Michael?” My mom screamed. “You’ll never come back here, and you’d be stuck there with YOUR kid!”

I saw mommy cut the ropes that connected me and daddy to the house, and I remembered Daddy saying that we won’t be able to go back if it was cut. I saw daddy running towards me, and his rope turned to dust.

“Come here buddy.” He took me from Teddy, and I hugged him real tight while I cried. “It’s going to be just you and me okay little Timmy?”

I nodded, as my daddy took me back to my room. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but as long as I had my daddy with me, I knew things would be alright.

———————————
I hope that made sense. 😀 Completely fiction.

Taking baby steps

With a dream of winning either a Pulitzer award or a Nobel Prize in Literature, I dream big. But with every dream, we all have to take baby steps. For me, those baby steps were starting to write for magazines and starting my blog. And with these two slowly becoming stable, I decide to take the next step: Try to get published.

So most of you have been encouraging me to either write a whole book, or compile my stories and get them published. So I figured, I could try to do both! Since I have a three week semester break, I could do just that. I have used a site called Wattpad for my whole story, while I will compile all my short stories. I’ve always wanted to become published, to be in definition, a “writer.” I know it’s a complete struggle to do so, but this is something I really want to do. I’m going to do it one small step at a time, hopefully finishing before Christmas, or earlier. This is honestly a struggle for me, as I have a hard time trying to concentrate on one story, thus the series of short stories. However, I will see this as a challenge for myself.

To check out my “novel” in the works, here is the link: Sparks and Fireworks

As for my short stories, I will try to self publish them since I don’t know any agents or publishers who would be interested in publishing an eighteen year old girl. I’ve got my fingers crossed! I’m shooting for the highest star here, hopefully hitting the mark. 🙂

Sewed to him

“Lily”

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to jolt me awake. I pried my eyes open, glancing at my digital clock. 12:01 AM, October 31. I looked around my apartment, noticing the absence of my best friend on her bed. I concluded that it was only my imagination. I then decide to lie down again, knowing that I still had six more hours of sleep to go.

“Lily.”

This time a cold chill travelled up my spine, making me shiver. I glanced at the AC to shut it off with the remote, but it wasn’t even on. Odd. I shook off the feeling, and tried to resume sleeping. My hand hung on the side of the bed, as I slowly drifted into sleep. 

“Lily. Wake up.”

This time I crumpled myself into a small ball on the side of my bed, eyes completely shut. I felt the cold feeling of the wall on my back, as I made myself as small as I possibly could. I clutched my phone tightly in my hand, frantically looking for my best friend’s number. This is not real. This is not real. My brain overloaded with thoughts of a murderer or a burglar in my apartment as I tried to call Stacy. But like a complete thriller movie, I didn’t have cell service. Crap.

“Lily”

The voice was becoming louder now, making my heart beat louder. I was sweating so much like I ran a marathon, when I’ve only been hiding myself under my comforter. Stop being a baby Lily. Take a look. At least you’d know who to haunt if you die.  I slowly lowered my comforter, but what I saw made me wish a murderer got inside my room. Because right in front of me, or better yet above me, was my ex-boyfriend. My dead ex-boyfriend. 

He was literally floating in front of me, looking so real. He looked the same as he did two years ago, right down to his little mole on his cheek. The last time I saw him was when the coffin was closed on his face. I remember how my heart broke when the doctor announced he died of heart attack. I was gaping at him like a mad man, he only smiled at me like this was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Hey Lily”

My heart accelerated out of my chest, as I hid under my comforter again. I only heard a ghostly laughter, and I was literally shaking. 

“Wh-why are you here?” I asked, saying the million dollar question. When he didn’t answer, I looked around my apartment. It was empty. Was it really just a dream? The room suddenly felt colder for some reason, and I knew in that moment that this wasn’t over.

“Hello Lily.”

His words seemed to roll of his tongue, like a viper calling out to its prey. He was walking towards me, his all black eyes weirdly making it hard for me to look away. He sat on the edge of my bed, a huge smile on his face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

I quivered from the coldness of his voice, my body somehow detecting him as an enemy. I backed myself up further into the wall, as if that was physically possible. Think Lily. Think! Or at least say something!

“Ple-please don’t hurt me.”

My nervousness was so obvious that he smiled once again, creepily I might add. This whole situation was creepy, and he was just making it worse.

“Lily, Lily, Lily. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it the day I died. The very day I sacrificed my life to save yours.”

My eyes widened as he said this, but I didn’t say a word.

“Aren’t you curious Lily? That I died the day you got into that car crash?”

His words pierced into me like a cold knife, making me involuntarily shiver. Where is this going?

“I took my life Lily,” He said, crawling towards me, “To save yours.”

He suddenly opened his polo, revealing a stitch on his chest that was eerily a match with my own scar. I reached out to touch it, but when I did I only went through his chest. I immediately grabbed my hand back, almost peeing myself when he chuckled softly.

“Yo-you gave me your heart?” I stuttered, needing to say something.

“This isn’t a cliche story Lily. I died of ‘heart attack'” He said with his fingers up to quote the doctor. “I tied my lifeline onto yours to make you live.You’ve been using my life years.”

I suddenly felt dizzy, subconsciously feeling the scar on my chest. The doctor said it was from a shard of glass that pierced my heart, barely missing it. That’s when I noticed a red string that connected my scar to his, and I tried my best to pull it out. But the more I pulled, more came out. I looked up towards him, confused.

“Bu-but..I-I..” My brain stopped functioning when he came forward, his cold lips on mine. I didn’t feel anything, except a cold, unnatural feeling. He then pulled back, scratching his head, looking disappointed.

“The string won’t come off. It was there when we were born, and only strengthened when I sacrificed myself. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” He smiled before he continued, “I’m literally stuck to you Lily.”

He suddenly disappeared from my sight, and that’s when I blacked out.

When I woke up the next day, I breathed a sigh of relief. A jingle of keys came from the other side of the door, and Stacy came in with a smile on her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night.” She said sheepishly. “I got preoccupied.”

I only nodded at her, still hung over the dream. I then noticed something hanging from the inside my shirt. When I looked at it, I froze. 

It was a red string.

And it came from the scar above my chest.

————————–
Fiction. I’m getting into the Halloween vibe, so I wrote this. My second horror story. I do hope I spooked everyone 😀

My Lego King

He builds his kingdom by hand,
With bricks that are stronger than sand.
He wears his crown on his head,
The crowd hanging on every word he said.
He might be small,
but he is my master.
But only because 
he’s my little brother.
We use swords and shields
that no one could destroy.
We’ll be better than the kingdom of Troy.
Even when we grow up,
I’d never forget.
That my brother was once a king,
the best I’ve ever met.

Just a touch

It was just a touch
A slight flicker of hand
But what I felt at that moment,
No one would ever understand.
My whole body erupted,
jolted with electricity.
My walls came breaking down,
her simple touch felt like an army.
My breathing got laboured,
my stomach filled with bulls running amok.
Yet everything felt perfect.
We didn’t have to talk.
As I laced my fingers through hers,
the world seems right again,
if only for this moment.

Morning voice


That good for nothing boyfriend!
I’ve been calling him for maybe the hundredth time that morning, hoping to any god out there that he’d answer. I’m willing to bet everything right now that even if an earthquake shook his house, he’d still be sleeping like a rock. Stupid boyfriend. I groan as the irritating recording started.
“The number you have dialed cannot be reached. Please try again later.”
I did everything within my will not to throw my two year old phone across the room. I love this phone. I love this phone. I repeated to myself. The heat of the morning began to catch up to me, making me feel more irritated. 
“Wake me up tomorrow okay?” He said.
I nodded, before he kissed me goodbye. A million butterflies exploded in my stomach like fireworks, and I felt myself melt into him. He gripped my back, making me stick to him like fly paper. We both removed ourselves from each other, both in need of air. I smiled at him sweetly, before closing the door.
I regret that decision with every bone in my body. I should have shut the door in his face. Or I should have thrown my alarm clock at him that I have lovingly set at five am to wake him up. Stupid boyfriend. I slam my forehead on my computer desk, knowing fully that a small bump was bound to appear there. I dialled his number again, and I stuck my phone to my ear like glue. The deep tone kept ringing, and I breathed in heavily to calm myself.
“Hello love.”
I was ready to yell at him. I really was. I prepared a number of profanities that would hail me as the wife of Satan. I was ready to shut off my phone and let him call me a hundred of times. But damn, everything in me was either turned on or jittery as my heart palpitated for a few seconds. Is this what a heart attack feels like?His voice was so gentle yet so masculine, so caught off guard. It was candid, a situation I loved the best.
“Are you there?” 
His voice brought me to reality again, and I hated the smile that tugged on the corner of my lips.
“I hate you.” I said, pouting. 
He laughed, that laugh that would skyrocket me into a certain kind of high that no drug can ever give. I sighed deeply, feeling the anger wash away.
“Are you done laughing?” I asked, adding a bit of anger in my voice to scare him.
“I’m sorry. I dreamed that we were together. I didn’t want to wake up.”
How could I get mad with an answer like that? This boy is good, too good for my own good. I pretended like I was irritated, so I didn’t answer him.
“Honey? I know you’re there.”
Silence.
“Answer me. I’m like a puppy waiting for a biscuit. But I’m your lost puppy.”
I’m about to lose my resolve here.
“I miss your voice. Talk to me please?”
Five..four..three..two..
“I love you.” Damn it. Was that me? I was so close. I could only imagine him smiling at the other end, looking like a drugged up loon.
“I love you too.”
—————————————————

Don’t you just hate it when you’re so mad at someone, but they do something that makes your anger melt? This is not fiction by the way. This has happened to me a hundred times before (I’m not exaggerating), and I hate my boyfriend. That’s why we’ve been together for years now. Stupid boyfriend. -.-

Wasted



Eight years and a million lies later, we were over.
No one saw it coming. That’s for sure. But after seeing your fiancé practically shoving his tongue down another woman’s throat while his hand was discovering the softness of her underwear, he deserved the black eye he is now sporting. My best friend, who was with me at the time spilled her drink all over him, then applauded my right hook. And to make the situation more cliché as it is, I caught him the night before our wedding on his bachelor party. I guess couples didn’t see each other before the wedding for a reason. Lesson learned I guess.
I’ve shut my hotel door and locked it, only open to the bell boy who delivered my food and never questioned my red eyes. My phone has been ringing nonstop, my mother the prime caller.
“It was just wedding jitters honey!” She would say. “I’m sure you could just kiss and make up!”
My best friend however had other ideas, plotting a murder and a funeral. Murder for the woman, funeral for my ex: dead or alive. We both snickered as she prank called my ex and imitated the voice of the guy from Saw. His girly scream was bloody hilarious.
I spent all morning deleting every picture of us in every social website, while drinking my worries away with milkshake. I opened his Facebook, evilly changing his password. I then proceeded to throw away his clothes outside the window of what was supposed to be our honeymoon suite. I soon fell asleep to Bruno Mars serenading me, feeling at peace after what felt like the worst day of my life.
Loud desperate knocks practically pushed me out of the bed, making me yelp in surprise. I took my trusty hair curler and pointed it at the door as I looked through the peep hole. I expected a knife or a chainsaw to thrust through the door, a result of my obsession with horror movies. What I didn’t expect was my ex, flowers and chocolates in hand. He nervously ran his hand through his hair before knocking again. I pretended to be asleep, not making another sound.
“I know you’re awake. You’re not exactly a heavy sleeper Andy. And please put the hair curler down before you open the door?” he said, and I imagined a smirk tugging at the side of his lips.
I cursed under my breath, hating the fact that this guy knew me better than anyone else. With shaking hands I opened the door, ready to count how many apologies he’s about to make.
“I’m sorry about last night, I was so drunk I didn’t even know what I was doing and I’m sorry I didn’t run after you after you punched me, your friend poured margarita all over me and it made me sticky and I’m sorry for-“
The slap resounded through the empty hallway, making him shut up. Three apologies in one ridiculous sentence were too much. I took a deep breath, before looking straight at his stupefied face. He still had the black eye I gave him, but it looked like it was covered with a concealed. His skin looked pale, his lips dry. But he was still frustratingly handsome, with his squared jaw and hazel eyes. My resolve almost melted at the sight of him so vulnerable. Almost.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I looked at him straight in the eye, before opening my mouth.
“One, stop talking fast. Two, as an English major you insulted me with that apology. Pauses were made for a reason and conjunctions should not be overused. Three, you weren’t even that drunk, because if you were you would have passed out already. We both know after two shots you’d be ready to lie down anywhere, even if it was on the street. Four, pick up your clothes on the floor or I’d have my best friend burn it. And lastly, I don’t want to see you again.” 

And with that ladies and gentlemen, I closed my door, or maybe slammed it on his face. The groan from the other side of the door told me the latter happened.
I smiled at myself while looking at the peephole, watching him pick up his clothes. Soon enough he left; grumbling unintelligible things under his breath. I felt relieved, then doubtful, then finally depressed. All under 10 seconds. I was relieved he left; at least I was strong enough not to melt onto his arms. I felt doubtful, as I looked back on our relationship. How many times did he cheat before he got caught? It hit me like a ton of bricks, the lies, the deceit and the fact that I lost not only my boyfriend, but also a best friend.
This made me sad the most, the fact that I lost someone who knew me at my worst and best times. I sobbed like a maniac, as flashes of memories crept on me like a ninja cutting onions. I wouldn’t doubt it if my neighbours began to complain about a wailing hyena. And as if on cue, someone knocked on my door.
“Ms. Sanchez?” A muffled voice said from the other side.

I tried to ignore whoever it was, and it pierced my heart to be called by my last name. By this time I should be Mrs. Rodrigez, but no, I was still MISS Sanchez. I sighed, sobbing once more onto my pillow. When I calmed down I finally got to look around my room. 

The once neat and organized room was now a mess, much like my life. I felt alone and terribly stupid. I felt sorry for myself. I felt like he took my heart then crumpled it to throw away. I thought about the things we had together, and all the wasted effort and time for a jerk. And though I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my body, I felt wasted. 

—————————–
Totally fiction. I’m feeling gloomy as the rainy season intensifies here in the Philippines. I hope you had a nice weekend!

The selfie generation

My generation is vain. Yes, yes we are. We can’t deny that we absolutely cannot go to a trip or a party without a camera. We all would like to “preserve” moments and post them onto Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. It’s really an insane thing, and even our parents and elders are catching on. We have a thing for posting one picture out of thousands that we have taken. Admit it, you take about thirty pictures, and upload only half of them.

So when our professor told us that our final requirement for our subject would be self portraits, you could only imagine our reactions. Yes, we were ecstatic! We finally could be vain and actually get something profitable out of it. Our professor told us to pass the best five pictures, but like I said, I took like a hundred pictures and painfully chose just five. Without further ado, here are my best five pictures. Most of these were taken by my faithful photographer, the camera stand. 😀

So far, I got a great grade out of this, and the remaining other pictures are stored for my “future” profile pictures. Do you consider yourself as a part of the selfie generation?