So this is how it feels like, huh? It hurt. It hurt because I can never be good enough. I've probably lost myself a long time ago and this is the consequences of my actions and whether I liked it or not I had to deal with all the repercussions. Sometimes I blamed all those people who came into my life. I blamed them for breaking me and turning me into a coward who didn’t know what she wanted and didn’t know who she was. But then if they didn't come into my life, I'll never become who I am right now. The hardest question I've been asking with myself for quite some time is 'Who I am?' because if I'll ask myself,I'm scared I won't get any answers. It's all started when this professor of mine said we should know who we are because if we don't know ourselves how can we be able to know others then? Now that I think about it, I am a big mess filled with nothing but fears. I realized this day, that being like that isn't healthy anymore and God knows I want to get back on track but how can I when I can't even collect myself again? My insecurity would always be fed until it grew into this gigantic monster that dragged me into the pits of hell with it. I keep on denying that nothing is wrong with me that I'm not lost and I'm not broken  or perhaps it's just one of my 'creative escape' to feel like I'm still okay. That nothing's wrong, I don't want to pity myself but I can't help it. I was blazing and I couldn't just stop, drop and roll. I had to endure it until it burned itself out. It's really hard to admit it but here goes nothing and I think I'm losing myself to the point of insanity. I am defensive and sensitive and these days I care less and less about the people and things around me. Don’t you find it scary, this spiral I am in? Because I do. And I didn’t want someone else in it. I didn’t want to drag them into it. 
I worry a lot. I worry about what the past can do, what the present can bring and what the future could possibly hold. I worry about so many things in my life that sometimes I think I live just to worry. Now that I experienced that kind of pain I don't know anything anymore. What if I'll be the one who will bring this kind of pain to another person? Imagine having the power to make or break a person? Someone will feel like they are God while you’re asking for their mercy. You’re a slug and without any conscience they’re going to pour salt on you. They’ll watch you suffer until you dissolve. And I can't fathom that thought. It's just indescribable. Am I too late to back out now? Am I too late to undo all my mistakes in the past? Because I'm scared of the day that everything will crash and burn until i'll be forced to admit that I need help. I don't want to burden anyone and If I did I don't think they will be able to help me maybe they will try but I know it will happen because I give up on me a lot too. And I was so utterly fucking scared that I would break them the same way I probably broke myself. 

On positive note, I could rebuild myself. I was determined to rebuild myself  and be a better person. I would rise from the ashes and be stronger. I didn't need to be closed off, scared and untrustworthy. It will be a long journey and someday I will be able to answer that question 'who I am?' I'm constantly on a journey to work harder and better myself anyway.

I always had a small notebook where I would always write about my feelings, about the nature, weather, or something interesting caught my eye. You could put it as a journal but I don't know, it's beyond like that. Like in books, this was my another 'creative escape'. Books can't teach you everything you have to really experience it for yourself to know everything. That’s the power of words and the edge of books. You feel things that aren’t happening to you and you know things you haven’t even felt. And reality speaking, the best way of learning things may be to experience them yourself but the wiser way of learning them is to learn from the experience of others. And that’s what I do. I observe people from afar. I write about their feelings. I write about possible thoughts that might be lingering on their minds. That's how I eat. 

We're watching the game of Ginebra and Meralco last night. By we, I meant me, and my dad. I was pretty pumped up with the intense game and yes, I'm being bias so I really want to win Ginebra but a game is a game. You'll win or you'll lose. That's pretty much life. Anyway, while I was watching I really can feel how Ginebra was striving to at least overcome the points of Meralco. But here's the thing about time, it doesn't give a shit about anyone. It doesn't care whether you've been struggling to win some game. It doesn't care whether you'll lose a battle. It doesn't care whether you're shattered and broken beyond repair. It doesn't care that you're grieving for a loss so immense that your heart literally aches every time you breathe . Nope time doesn't care. It keeps on moving, never just staying still. You might want it to remain unmoving, everlasting but that doesn't work out does it? Time doesn't care that you want to won some game. It doesn't care if you don't want to pick yourself up to do things just because the hour requires it.  It doesn't care whether you're giving your best just to keep moving with it. It doesn't care that you're in so much pain that your body's become numb. All it does is keep on ticking and asking you to move along with it. Time doesn't care for anyone. And I just thought, maybe just maybe if there's still some minutes left for Ginebra perhaps they could win. Every minute counts and we shouldn't take it for granted because we'll never know if the game's already over..

"She'll either find a way or make one doesn't it?"

When she was sixteen, she mapped out her dreams on Post-its and stuck them all over the walls of her room. Every day, she kept on making a note and woke up with the promise of certainty around her. If she could write them down and read them over and over again, they just had to come true... that's what she thought. During that time, she's still naive with obstacles, hindrances and consequences of the world. Little did  she know, it's a backwards, messed up freak show world we live in. 

As the years passed, the notes have been taking down one by one without her knowing it, or maybe she did, she just didn't paid any attention to it anymore.

Until she woke up to an empty wall. 

Perhaps, she realized they weren't really what she wanted and she had nothing else in mind to replace them with yet. Her mom was the first to reassure her that she didn't need any Post-its to give her any sign nor direction to keep going in life, she has mind to steer her, and the anchor of a heart to keep her. She also added, she still have a Post-its anyway, she just have to make a new note whenever she wants to. She digress to that fact, not because she loathed her mom's opinion or anything but because she just felt she'll grow up if she keeps on making a new changes in her life and that's the point she'd never want to grow up. 

Her eyes darted to the mirror and all she saw was her brown wavy hair sticking out in all the wrong places. She wept for summer rains and things that are no longer so she cut an inch and watched the strands fall to the floor. For a while she stood there, snipping and watching her own reflection until she was staring at someone she did not recognize. All that she has spent so much time for growing, just a pile on the floor. The way things change in an instant or the way she rocked herself to lullabies of yesteryears that day when she remember how she cried for regrets, what ifs, and what could have beens, she couldn't just wrap her head around the idea of how life goes by so quickly. 

As time passed, she's growing up and she went on viaduct, on what seemingly felt like the edge of the world, and let all the Post-its she once had on her walls fly off with the wind, off into the great wide unknown. Still, every morning her hand runs to her head looking for the missing hair and she realized goodbyes don't happen in airports, funerals, graduation day or parting of memories. You do it in different ways, in ways only you know how. You let go slowly, saying goodbye one day at a time. 

While she was writing this, she remembers the note she knew by heart. The note read: 'The world awaits. Go when you can. You will never be ready.' And with that, she promised to keep waking up for a Post-its and living a life full of pictures that's worth a thousand stories. After all the latter are taken by survivors.

How does it feel to be a princess even just for a while? Isn't it exciting? Too surreal? Is there a living proof princess nowadays? I  wonder. In reality, you would come to know that there was no prince coming for you. You would understand how scary the witches, dragons and monsters were. You would see how thick the high walls could be. You would know that a freaking kiss would not bring the dead back. You would see that bitches existed and you were not born a princess but a freaking pauper. Screw you, reality.

You don’t have to be what other people want you to be. You don’t have to be interesting or agreeable or entertaining. You don’t have to tone yourself down, quiet your voice, or hide your feelings. You don’t have to be outgoing or spontaneous or sociable. You don’t have to be thin or beautiful or anyone’s definition of attractive. You don’t have to be anyone other than who you authentically are, and you sure as hell don’t have to spend your time and energy trying to convince people that you’re worth keeping around. The right people are going to recognize your worth. They are going to respect you, appreciate you, and accept you, without forcing you to compromise who you are.