sumusulat para saan?

para sa Kanya.

malapit na.

Astig pala mag-Filipino

bakit ngayon ko lang nalaman?!

masarap pala paglaruan ang lenguaheng ginagamit ko,
'di ko man lang napansin noon.
nag-iinarte kasi ako noong matutunan ang pasikot-sikot
ng salitang Ingles - mas madali kasing maintindihan at
magsalin ng saloobin pag 'yun ang gamit.
pakiramdam ko, ang mga makata lang ang may karapatan
sa Filipino - 'yun tipong may kalaliman.
akala ko kung balbal ang Filipino mo, wala ka nang
karapatang magsulat -

malamang ganoon nga. pero susubok pa rin ako -

dehado ako sa MP10 (hayop sa lupit ng subject na 'yun -
tugmaan lang 'di ko pa nakuha). ayaw ko namang masayang ang P900
ng mga magulang ko para sa subject na 'to dahil lang sa hindi ako masipag
mag-Filipino. mukhang sa subject lang na 'to
ako posibleng pumalya - pinangako ko pa man 'din
sa kanila na aarangkada ako ngayong sem. nakakahiya naman sa kanila -
at sa P900 nila.

kaya napagtripan kong sumulat ng labing-apat na tula sa loob ng dalawang linggo.

magagawa ko kaya?

dudugo muna ilong ko - pero ayos lang, ganoon naman ata
talaga ang pagiging isang Pilipino -

Madugo.

The Unexpected Battle

It’s weird how things go: one moment you’re minding your own business, the next you’re concern about somebody else’s. Unfortunately, they have a term for that – “crush”.

I do have one.

Bad Trip.

Lord,

he’s way beyond my reach:
accelerated in all the sense of the word, we’re close – but i’d rather be closer to banish the feeling
he’s invading that part:
he resides temporarily in that miniscule space that no one permanently owns – and might probably stay a bit longer than i’ve anticipated
he’s kind:
everyone is. but the effort he’s unconsciously showing to illuminate my day somehow makes him kinder than the rest.
he’s extreme:
everyone is – but his is a rare case of wit.
he needs to go:
so he could permanently stay with me.

We’ve been through a lot, Dearest. You, of all being, know how vulnerable i am to people like him:

how guilt sometimes dissects my brain because i uncontrollably think of him;
how simple gestures and conversations can invade my memory and make me dumbfounded with this being;
how hard i try to eliminate this feeling, but on the contrary, it gets stronger as i fight;
how weak i often feel because i can’t fight him, and the thought that maybe i want him to stay makes it even worse;
how down i usually become because i’m not the only one who takes notice of his radiance;
how sometimes he invades the space that’s rightfully mine;
how i look up to him because he looks down to me;
how he makes me write anywhere, about anything, and about him;
how i sometimes find myself praying for him, wishing hard that he knows You;

how i wish that i can talk to him beyond the reason of acquaintance and just ask him straight to the point if he really believes in You;
how i wish hard that You will take him away from me because i am clueless of what to do at the moment;
how i wish hard that You’ll just give him to somebody else, to someone who can properly introduce You to him;
how i wish that the blood of the confused won’t be blamed against us, because i am afraid to speak up;
how i wish that he’ll just wake up one morning to find out that You love him more than anyone else could, because You created him perfectly;
how i wish that he’ll find out for himself that he loves You, and that his God-given void will finally be satisfied;
how i wish that time will just do what it does best: slip away, because i am not certain of what will happen if I dwell on this a little longer;
how i wish that he’ll love You above all – so he can finally learn to love others and himself without fear;

how i pray that i could just be honest with You and with myself, even if it’s just a fragment of time, I’ll admit that maybe he’s not just a crush –

i love him.

maybe.

Jesus, thank you for making me love You above everything else. And about him, I’m confident in You.

This is just one of those bad trips that i’d rather take because it will make me feel a whole lot better.