it lives by
chapters and spines
it lives by
chapters and spines
A step forward,
The sun seems to burn his foot.
A step back,
and the darkness fills his remaining part.
It’s the first week of December already and I haven’t posted anything yet here for almost 2 months I guess. And I absolutely regret to leave this blog on a negative tone, my last public post was really a melancholic one. I have a few good reason for being MIA: first, life is really happening right now and I don’t have ample time to write; second, I tried to write, I tried really hard but I cannot make myself write anything cohesive, and; third, I’ve written some poetry and prose, however, I deliberately did not post it on this blog.
Please excuse me for this waste of space and time.
What happened, October?
Many firsts happened last October:
To my surprise, I was somewhat comfortable with the new environment. I could sleep well on a different bed which was very unlike me. I could eat well on a different environment which again was very unlike me. I’ve never seen myself comfortable in a new environment which was very surprising.
What happened, November?
Kung Alam N’yo Lang by Ricky Lee
Ricky Lee never disappoints. Love is really an understatement for this masterpiece!
The Maps that Contain Us by Marla Miniano & Reese Lansangan
First time to read a collection of flash fiction and poetry and it did not disappoint.
Holding Up The Universe by Jennifer Niven
Review is on Goodreads.
Life lately was full of surprises and unexpected circumstances. I learned so many things and lessons from what happened the past months. And I am happy on how life unfolds before my eyes. I am still in awe on how God orchestrate everything. I love how grounded I can be in this season of my life. I am forever grateful to God for all the blessings He has bestowed me. I am forever grateful.
There is a time for everything. – Ecclesiastes 3:1
You let your voice out. But your words came out wrong. It exited your mouth like a rapid river trying to suck all the people happily playing in the water. You are so used on letting your voice be silenced by your fear. Then when it finally came out, your voice sounds like a piercing knife.
You let your voice be heard this time and then you quiver. You’re not so used with this kind of voice. You’re not so used on hearing it audibly. You wished you haven’t spoken at all.
You let your words came out. Like a song on its last song syndrome, happily then daunting then painful then it cannot stop you from feeling coward again. You let the words out, the words that made you up for the first 4 months of this year. You let the words out, the words you’ve been keeping to yourself since 2010.
And those words, from the past, it is like a phone ringing with an introvert holding it. It is haunting. It pierces. It slices. You said it will never haunt you again. But it did.
Those words finally came out and I am inside again. Rewinding what I’ve just said. Replaying the syllables and wanting it to be pushed back. But it can’t. Letting people know what you’ve been through, letting them have the glimpse of the chaos inside you… It is suffocating than freeing.
I’ve already mastered the art of being silent. Maybe this is it. My voice shouldn’t be heard after all.
When you are falling in a forest and there’s nobody around, did you ever really crash or even make a sound?
Goodbye to you
You’ve been standing in front for this long
You’ve choked the life inside
But you’ve never passed the holy light.
Goodnight to you
The dust above the head
The creature under the bed
Farewell to you, so long!
This is the last goodbye
Hoping you settle somewhere else
Hoping you will not come by
again in this beautiful sunrise.
Have you been in a position wherein you’ve been pushing on a pull door (literally and figuratively)? Funny, isn’t it? We keep on pushing even though there is a clear sign on the door that says “PULL”. In its literal sense, it is funny and even entertaining. But when you dig deeper, it is frustrating. […]
Sometimes, we just want to make sense of all the thoughts inside our heads. Yet, conversations with people aren’t enough and most of the time superficial. So we seek an outlet to let all the words out. We grab our pens and bleed words we badly want to utter. We write until words run out and the only thing that remain is the bleeding. No, not the physical bleeding or the tangible one but the bleeding that flows inside us – the bleeding of hope.
In writing, we can discover a new found hope. A hope that someday, someone can hear us out… can hear the voices inside our minds… can hear the words we want to say but can’t utter. A hope that someday, we can hear our own… we can stop the shouting voices in our minds… and we can finally utter the words we badly want to say.
It is not enough to have the right talent and the right tools. Most of the time, it all boils down to timing and how badly you want it to have it.
How badly you want it that you courageously go out to your comfort zone? That fine line between your cowardice and bold goals.
How badly you want it that you can risk every known familiarity? That fine line between your cowardice and the unknown.
Many have died believing their talents are enough. But it is not. It is deeper. It is the courage from within. The courage to believe, to start, to fail and to start again.
Inspired by The Cowardly Lion of Oz Series
“Life is short.” I have heard this cliché many times; so many times that I have never imagined that it will hit home and it will hit home hard enough; so many times that I have never imagined that it would be literal as 6 days, 14 hours and 55 minutes of living.
It is already 9 days after my niece died (as of writing), but I still couldn’t comprehend how and why this little baby girl, innocent and full of potential, should suffer and feel the pain even adults couldn’t bear. Why in her young age, she should undergo angioplasty? How her young body could bear all the pain?
Life is very short for this young little girl. She hadn’t seen the world. From the day she was born, she was taken to the heart center for operation. 6 days in the ICU. She didn’t see her mother; her mother didn’t have the chance to hug her. September 21 was her first breath. September 28 was her last.
In times like this, I want to tell every person I meet that life is short; that they should not spend it YOLO-ing but instead make out of most of their time loving and caring for people; that they should not be selfish to flick a cigarette while others are dying from lack of oxygen; that they should learn to value their health; that time is of essence; your time spent more to one thing is a time you spent less to another; that life is too fragile to break it.
Seeing my niece (7 days old) inside the coffin was heart-breaking. It is as if imagining how she suffered greatly, how much pain she endured. I would like to ask God, not to whine, but to have a conversation, just to know His plans, just to know what’s going on in His mind, to be assured that this little angel is safe and sound to His loving arms.
“A man’s days are numbered. You know the number of his months. He cannot live longer than the time You have set. So now look away from him that he may rest, until he has lived the time set for him like a man paid to work.” – Job 14:15
For all things bookish and wonderful
The wonderful life and magical experiences the world and I work together.
Unfathomable thoughts and feelings can destroy your little world of make-believe.
When she speaks, everybody listens.
A woman writing about the One who made her heart
The Life and Times of D. Leones
Chasing life, one day at a time
"Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." Howard Thurman