You Are Loved


You are loved.

With an everlasting love.

With unfailing kindness.

You are loved.



Contemplations, Daily Life

Let me tell you what goes on inside the head of a suicidal, or some of them at least.

First off, no, they don’t really want to die. Unless they’re going through some really intense physical pain, then, otherwise, yeah, maybe they do want to die. But, most don’t. No, emo people are longing for love. They long for affection, for acceptance. They wish to feel wanted and adored.



This is one of the hardest things for me to accept.
Maybe because it strikes a little too close to home.

Because it hurts losing her. It hurts because this means that I’m just not the one for her. That I couldn’t be the one for her. That I’ll never be the one for her. And she’ll never be the one for me.

That no matter how hard I try, all my efforts will be in vain because we’re just not compatible. And that breaks my heart. Because I feel helpless. Unable to prevent the constant drifting apart of our souls.

I’ve always believed that if you love someone, if you just love them hard enough, you’ll stay together. That if you just won’t give up, you’ll always be together. But, now, I don’t think that’s the case anymore.

And I don’t want to believe that because it’s like you’re not valuing it enough. Remember what they say? If you want something, you have to be willing to fight for it. But, if you just leave it all to compatibility, it’s like: “meh, I guess we’re just not compatible then.”

I don’t know if I’m making any sense right now, but do you get it? It’s like, just because something doesn’t work out, all of a sudden, it’s now okay to throw it away. As though it’s something so easily replaced.

Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time accepting that. Because I feel like it belittles love and leaves you helpless to do anything to fix it. Like, there’s no other solution, but to just give up.

I’m not saying there’s no hint of truth in those statements, there is. I know that there are things where you shouldn’t push yourself and accept that it’s just not meant to be, but when can you tell which is which? How do you know when to persevere and when to face your losses?

I guess that’s where the dilemma stems, you have these two truths, but they’re opposing one another. And now, you’re left with a gut-wrenching question:

Where is the line between compatibility and effort?

I just keep that to myself


I know I used the words “I loved you”

But honestly, I still do.
Despite everything, I’m still willing to take you back.
To welcome you back with open arms.
To love you more than you can ever love yourself.

Foolish as it may seem, I still love you.

But, I just keep that to myself.
I keep a lot of things to myself.
Like how every time I get to the office, I check the lights of your office window and wonder if you’re there.
How I get this nagging urge to talk to you whenever I see that green dot light up beside your name in the chat box.
How I try to stop myself from searching you in Twitter to see what you’ve been up to lately.
How I wish I’d get a glimpse of you whenever I climb the stairs to the office. Hoping you’d exit through that door.

No, I hold all of these things in. I keep them to myself.
I don’t say it out loud anymore for fear that it might drive you away.

Because, really, I should consider myself already extremely lucky to be able to see you and speak with you again.
How could I possibly push the boundaries even further and ask for more when doing so would risk ruining what little connection I was able to salvage between us?

But, still, even so, I write them here.
I write them here in hopes that when you start looking for me, for my thoughts, for my heart, for my soul, you’d find it.

You’d find it here, loving you unconditionally from the shadows.
Waiting, patiently, for you.

Holy Shit

Daily Life, Throwbacks

Okay, so I just uncovered an old poem I wrote back in high school. Damn. It’s fucking horrible and hella embarrassing. At first I thought it wasn’t mine since the handwriting was off, but reading it, I faintly remember bits and pieces of the memory.

Fuck, was this the kind of person I was even back then?? Damn.

Anyway, without further ado, here’s the poem:



My chest tightens around my heart. I could barely breathe. The more I inhale, the harder it is for me to breathe.

It hurts. Every breath I take hurts. Every breath suffocates me even more.


I’m struggling with it. Not when there are so many questions left unanswered. Questions whose answers I’m dying to know.



I’m really trying to see you less than what I perceive you to be. That is, I’m trying to see you only as a friend and not someone whom I’ve given my whole heart to. But it’s pretty difficult.

I’m trying to move on, really I am.