If There Were Such Things As Galaxies

 

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Photo from AmourAmelia

 

A Tumblr post once told me that galaxies reside within my body.

It was one of those 3 AM nights filled with inexplicable loneliness and okay, maybe…hunger.

Months later, when a random phone call informed me that a dear friend took her own life, I did not think about the galaxies.

I did not think about the said constellations around my body–such meaningless names for lifeless beauties.

I did not think about the billions and billions of stars running through my blood, said to provide light because damn it! There are some places I rather not visit.

When the rain wept along with me on that particular September night, I realized Science is once again right.

There are no galaxies–only water and blood. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Because if there were galaxies, I would not feel blankets of heavy water tugging at my feet.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? Because if there were galaxies, I would not feel blankets of heavy water tugging at my feet.

If there were stars then surely, surely, she would have seen them, admired them, tried to live instead of leave.

Do you believe me now? There are no galaxies! 

Last week, when my mother jokingly told me to kill myself, I almost told her about the meteor showers sleeping deep within me.

How these cluster of stones can fulfill her wishes and please, please, do not give me the permission I need. 

When I woke up this morning, my same old mind telling me it wants to die, I felt like a remnant of a dead galaxy.

NASA said that galaxies are ripped apart when they encounter strong tidal forces–well lately, my sadness has turned into a huge, screaming, tidal force I cannot always battle.

Therefore, Science is right. I am being ripped apart…there are days where I can no longer conjure sentences, a task as familiar as the scent of my bed.

Science is right!

A black hole can cause turbulence in a galaxy which may result to its death. I am scared of the fact that my heart resembles a black hole, building friendships with darkness and misery.

Two years ago, I thought there were no such things as galaxies living inside of me but I have forgotten that half of the stars in the night-sky are nothing but corpses!

And probably what she saw was a spitting image of herself, likely the one I also see in the mirror during the very bad days.

If galaxies were real, I am terrified of the idea that my time has already ended, the stars running in my veins are more dead than alive.

So please, please, do not let the galaxies be real. 

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Somewhere between sleeping and living

I’ll sleep until the unwanted passes,

Until every horrible well in my mind shushes.

I’ll sleep until my eyes forget what it feels like to see the first rays of sunshine,

Or how I look like bathing on it during the good days—

Smiling, laughing, dreaming.

 

I’ll sleep until the knots inside my head break free,

Until the loud pounding in my chest reverts back to a heartbeat.

I’ll sleep until my toes forget what it feels like to stand,

To have the strength to lead the way and the power to stop.

Lately, all I wish is for the world to stop.

 

I’ll sleep until the darkness becomes a friend,

Until the hushed pleas turn into echoes— help asking for help.

I’ll sleep until I forget how to conjure whimsical adventures in my dreams,

Because if dreams represent reality, I’d have thunderstorms as my sun—

My skin a hint of goodbyes and broken promises, my breath: lifeless.

 

So, I’ll sleep once more,

Hoping not to be blue as the skies and deep as the ocean.

I’ll sleep, sleep tight—

Tighter than the bedroom of the screams I keep,

Thinking, feeling, wishing: a better tomorrow.

6/23/17

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Taken at CDC Parade Grounds, Clark City (5/14/17)

Doon tayo magkita sa hangganan ng kahapon at bukas,

Sa sandaling mas maigting ang ligaya sa kalungkutan,

Sa saglit na oras kung saan maaring limutin ang kinabukasan.

 

Doon tayo magkita sa hangganan ng kahapon at bukas,

Kung saan ang araw ay marahang yumayakap sa gabi,

Kung saan maaaninag ang tuwa mula sa iyong labi.

 

Doon tayo magkita sa hangganan ng kahapon at bukas,

Sa maliit na espasyong binuo lamang sa panaginip,

Sa panandaliang pag-asang makikita ka pang muli.

June

Note: I wrote this poem while listening to Kina Grannis’ California on loop. I didn’t know why, but I started crying as soon as I heard the first few words. This song made me write about the things I kept in the farthest places in my mind. I feel sad and vulnerable but like always, I know this will pass.

***

Summer kissed by regrets,

The wind catches my breath.

Daylight’s almost leaving,

Gentle waves kept crashing —

Trying to wash the pain.

 

Anatomy of Faces and Hues

 

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From our exhibit last February 28 about mental health awareness (Photo taken by me)

 

When people ask me if I am doing fine,

I close my eyes and pick a color farthest from the nightmares in my mind.

“I’m fine,” I say, as I watch myself paint another face.

Another masterpiece, another lie–today I’ve survived.

 

When people ask me if I am doing fine,

I examine the ugly scars in my body and imagine an unblemished canvas.

“I’m alright,” I whisper, choosing a red, blissful face.

Another masterpiece, another lie–today I’ve survived.

 

When people ask me if I am doing fine,

My mind immediately cries–while my hands automatically pick the brush.

“I will be okay,” I promise, as my demon wakes.

Another masterpiece, another lie–today I’ve survived.

 

To my five year old cousin, please never grow old

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I can still remember the day you asked me why the paper cranes hanging on top of my bed doesn’t seem to fly.

I recalled sleepily telling you, “It’s because they’re still too young.” And you replied with an incredibly ridiculous, “Why?!” 

The next morning, I woke up only to find you sitting right beside the cranes, blowing as hard as you can-trying your best to teach them how to fly.

When you saw me looking, you smiled so brightly and proudly told me, “Look, they’re flying!” 

Dearest, I want you to remember that moment whenever the world turns you down. Whenever it discourages or belittles you or when it stops you from doing what you want to do just because you’re too young. Too inexperienced.

I want you to remember that there is a way. There will always be a way. And that sometimes, all we really need is just a little push, just a soft blow, and we’ll be able to fly.

 

To my five year old cousin, please never grow old,

Never stop saving the biscuit you dropped in your hot, sweet milk; hands as steady as a surgeon, calmly whispering “It’s going to be okay” over and over again as the biscuit’s core slowly crumbles.

Dearest, I want you to know that there are people who chooses to sink. There are people who prefers to bury themselves together with the leftover powdered milk; like a silly metaphor for their once, innocent dreams.

I want to tell you to never let them go. Never let them sink. Scoop them up with your little metal spoon, bring them to your mouth and whisper, “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay.” 

 

To my five year old cousin, please never grow old,

Continue singing the lullaby you learned in school whenever you see me cry and I will continue to defend you to your mother, who keeps on telling you that the yellow star on your small hands which says, “Good!” is not good enough. Because believe me, it is good enough. You are good enough.

Continue waking me up in the morning with that cheeky smile of yours and I will continue to tell my father to stop deciding your future; that you’re not his to begin with and that the game you should be playing is rock, paper, and scissors not “Please Father, spare me some glances!” 

Continue being the kid who cried because I told him that his favorite cartoon characters, Peppa and George, is what we had for dinner last night and I will continue to fight for you.

I will never let you shrink yourself so that your body can fit into a tiny ribboned box, like a goddamned Christmas present being displayed for everyone’s amusement.

Continue riding your bike fearlessly through the wind because I will never let you live like me. I will never let you be treated as a decoration or a proof of good parenting.

I will not let them hang you like they did to me. Treating me like a dusty paper crane, swinging in midair-while they are below, screaming, that I don’t have the capability to fly.

Because until you, I didn’t know how to fly.

So please, when you do grow old, never forget that you’re someone who believed that everyone can be saved, even a half-drowning cookie, and that kisses heals any kind of pain.

That once, when you were five, you taught people how to fly.

My Mind is an Endless Zoo

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(Photo not mine. All credits belong to its proper owner)

Lips sealed,

Repressed memories,

Lone bird watching,

Fighting the urge to flee.

 

Flowing letters,

Of pieces shattered–

Feisty shark awaits,

Tearing off verses and flesh.

 

Tipsy feelings,

Paired with burnt lungs and promises.

Tigers prancing along the flames,

Leaving embers dressed as kisses.

 

Sleeping portraits,

Of wasted colors and tomorrows,

Voiceless parakeet singing,

Body hanging like a crooked comma–aiming for defeat.

Lost in a maze called, “Today”

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Today seems like an ordinary day,

Instead of chirping birds, I stare at dusty paper cranes.

Outside, the world continued to play

Unaware of things called, “pain”

 

Today seems like an ordinary day,

Waking up and avoiding the mirror like a game,

Hiding in the darkest corners, as if to say there isn’t a way –

With thoughts like these, it’s a challenge to stay sane.

 

Today seems like an ordinary day,

Nauseous of bitter coffee and emptiness.

I glance at the sky but all I see is gray,

Mimicking my self-portrait of hopelessness.

 

Today seems like an ordinary day,

The bent umbrella foolishly soaking in the rain,

As if begging the misery to run away,

Loading heartbreaks disguised as suitcases in the last passenger train.

 

Call(u)ses

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From the film “A Werewolf Boy” (I do not own the photo. All rights goes to its proper owner.)

Unwanted memories residing in my heart,

Crashes like a tidal wave again.

Like a soft, sadistic melody,

Tears instantly falls.

Time says it’s flying,

(I can hardly differentiate night and day) 

I guess bad memories can grow wings, too.

 

The black ink of my pen have memorized you,

Like the yellow painted flowers always aching for the sun.

Eyes closed, right and left, periods and parentheses-

My callused hands traced you,

Engulfed in your shadows,

Word by word, it’s all coming back.

(Why aren’t you coming back?) 

 

Regretful moments locked in these pages,

Your name, always drowning in a pool of bittersweet tears.

(I feel like I’m drowning, too)

The calluses between my fingers are so familiar to you,

(I’m used to the pain called you)

Like the grains of sand in the ocean being kissed away by the waves-

The separation no longer hurts, for it knows you’re going to visit again.

 

Pages and chapters written to erase your marks in my skull,

Silently pleading the universe to take you away,

Like the way the thunder surrenders itself to the summer breeze.

The hands which once held yours now only writes sad memories of you,

Like a baby uttering its first words,

My calluses repeatedly aches while madly writing for you…

(It knows nothing now but you.)