Ano’ng Meron Sa Butas Ng Donut?

ANG BUHAY ay parang donut, may butas sa gitna..

May kulang ba? Bakit kailangan may butas? Ilan lang yan sa mga tanong na marahil naiisip ng ibang tao kagaya ko.

Hindi natin alam kung ano yung palaging kulang, hindi natin alam kung bakit dapat may butas sa gitna. Hindi natin alam yung dahilan..

Pero hindi ba, hindi natin naiisip yung mga bagay na yun? Hindi naman natin sya napapansin? Pero tulad nga ng iba, marahil ay tulad ko din na nais din malaman. Marahil tulad ng iba at tulad ko ay sumagi sa isipan na magtanong o mag isip ng mga ganung bagay.

Donut. Oo, masarap. Kakagatin natin. Kakainin.. Hanggang sa maubos. Donut. Pag kinain na natin saka natin marerealize sa huli na wala palang kulang.

Walang kulang. Na sapat na pala. Kung minsan gusto pa natin, parang nakukulangan. Pero ang di natin alam ay kapag kumain ulit tayo sa pangalwang pagkakataon ay hindi ba, hindi tulad ng satisfaction na naramdaman natin sa unang pagkakataon? Iba pa din ang isa. Iba pa din ang una.

Sapat na ang isa. Dalwahin mo at masarap pa din ngunit bumaba ang kalidad. Tatluhin mo at mas nabusog ngunit sapat lamang sa pandadagdag sa tyan at di na inisip ang sarap o lasa. Apatin mo at sobra na.. Limahin mo at hanggang sa isuka mo na.

Ewan ko kung bakit ko ‘to sinusulat. Hindi ko din alam kung bakit ko ‘to naiisip. Hindi ko rin alam kung sasang-ayon kayo sa akin. Ang tanging alam ko lang ay sa pagkain ng donut.. Ngunit hindi ko rin alam kung bakit ito sumagi sa isipan ko.

Parang buhay ang donut. Ika ko nga nung una, may butas. May kulang? Ngunit pag kinain saka lang mararamdaman na “ay, tama lang pala. ay, masarap pala”

Parang buhay na kapag namuhay lang tayo, may kulang?

Parang buhay na sa kakaisip natin kung ano yung kulang nakakalimutan natin ang ibang bagay na nasa harap na natin.

Parang buhay na sa kakaintindi natin sa mismong buhay, naiwawalang bahala natin ang mga ibang bagay na may tunay na kahulugan sa atin.

Parang buhay na sa kakahanap natin sa kulang ay sya din pagkawala ng paningin natin sa kahalagahan ng kung ano’ng meron tayo.

Parang buhay na akala natin palaging kulang, hindi pala.

Hindi pala. Sapagkat kaya lang naman sya nagkukulang ay dahil na rin sa ating kaisipang “may iba akong kailangan”

Sapagkat kaya lang naman sya nagkukulang ay dahil na rin sa hinaing nating “bakit wala ako nito? bakit wala ako nun?”

Sapagkat kaya lang naman sya kulang ay dahil na rin sa paniniwalang “bakit ba palaging may kulang?”

Bakit hindi nating subukang mamuhay lang at wag intindihan ang kulang.. wag kwestyunin ang buhay..

Huwag na tayong mag aksaya pa ng panahon sa pag intindi sa mismong buhay, mamuhay na lang tayo sa alam nating paraan.

Tara! Iwanan muna ang mga isipin. Donut? (:


A Poem

YES I can write

A five-worded poem


Just To Write

I CAN’T think of what

to write about

so I think of

writing it down

just to write something.


Could You Talk To My Heart And Tell It To Move On?

IF SOMEONE will ask me why am I wearing this.. I am wearing this because I made it. I am wearing this because it is simply beautiful.

But if I would be asked why am I still wearing this.. It’s because this is special. It’s because this bracelet is as special as who taught me how to make it. What’s the big deal then?

The thing is.. I am still wearing this because I haven’t move on. The only reason to move on is I don’t feel anything for him anymore. But the only reason that I can’t and couldn’t move on is that I can’t bring myself to believe the only reason to move on. I can’t believe because it’s the reciprocal of what my heart has been telling me.

I don’t know til when I’ll be wearing this. But you know.. I tried not to wear it. But my body looks for it. My wrist crave for it. So I simply followed them. But that’s not my reason. It’s an excuse of an in denial me.

The truth is.. I felt incompleteness and my heart kept on looking for it. So I purposely ignored my brain and undoubtingly followed my heart.

How am I supposed to move on if everyday I think of you and every night I dreamed of you?

How am I supposed to move on if every silence means your absence and every voice means your words?

How am I supposed to move on if in every song I hear, I heard your voice and in every music I hear, I remember you?

How am I supposed to move on if in everything I do and even don’t do, I think of you?

How am I supposed to move on if  every time I close my eyes, I feel the pain and every time I open it, I see the past?

How am I supposed to move on if I’ve given you my heart?

How am I supposed to move on if I couldn’t talk to my heart?

How am I supposed to move on if you are the only one for me?


Let Me Close My Eyes

WHEN LAUGHS laugh with me,
I don’t wanna sleep,
I don’t even wanna close my eyes.

Terrified that if I do so,
smiles will run away even faster than Forrest Gump.

Terrified that if I do so,
faces will be as poker as John Keats’.

Scared that if I’ll open my eyes again,
the world will be different –a world where muggles are mutants,
the world will turn upside down –a world where wizards are slaves.

Scared that if I’ll open my eyes again,
I will lose ev’ry single good vibes
stolen by a person who got hands like Harry Houdini’s,
I will be staring at nothing,
staring as what Claude Monet would have been doing.

Scared that if I’ll open my eyes again,
reality will run through the veil of blurriness
like how Hermione’s Fidelius hide stuff,
reality will transform into the mirror of lies
like how Ron’s Fera Verto do so.

Petrified that things will switch itself into something
that even Albert Einstein can’t elucidate;
dreams into broken glasses as what happens
to the Dark Lord’s desire,
love into hatred as how we’ve love and hate
Haymitch Abernathy at the same time,
trust into betrayal as what Fernand and Danglars
did to Edmond Dantes.

But when misery soars up, together with the dementors,
higher than the clouds in the sky, ravenous for my happiness,
all I wanna do is close my eyes.

Close my eyes till it’s tired of craving,
close my eyes till it got a broken wing,
close my eyes till it dive into the ocean of tears.

Thinking that closing my eyes will fix everything as how magic works,
that closing my eyes will erase the feelings as how Alzheimer’s does.

Hoping that closing my eyes will make me as hard as a stone,
that closing my eyes will solve every equation of misery.

Believing that closing my eyes will put away the sorrow,
that closing my eyes will make my dreams better than the veracity.

Because once and for all,
I thought that closing my eyes, that seeing the nothing,
is the only answer to everything!

Let me close my eyes,

even just for a while.
I needed a time,





Undecided Title

ONE IS fighting for the title; the other, for the money.
One is fighting for his life; the other, for the lives of others.

One fight.
One game.
Two people.

Both have their own reasons to fight.
Both have their own pride to win.

Winning for them have different consequences, have different meaning.
But there is only one winner. And winner takes it all!

But what if winning means losing what you have and having what you didn’t wish for? And losing means having a totally new life, a life led by them.

Would you rather win than lose?
Or the other way around?

Would you play the game? What if you didn’t have a choice at all and fighting seems to be the last resort?

(to be continued?)


What’s On The Other Side?

EATING ON the second floor of a fastfood..

The boy on our left side stared at the nothingness and thinking of I don’t know. He doesn’t know I’m looking at him.

Then I veered my head downward where I saw the night lights of the streets..

The girl crossing the street was focused on the vehicle before her and heading to I don’t know. She doesn’t know I’m looking at her.

The man buying a cake for whom or for what, I don’t know. He doesn’t know I’m looking at him.

The group of students walking and laughing, what they are laughing for nor why, I don’t know. They don’t know I’m looking at them.

The couple, holding hands, they’re couple and it’s obvious but who are they and what they’re thinking of, I don’t know. They don’t know I’m looking at them.

I saw them. Look at them. Stare at them for a moment. Think of what they are thinking. But I don’t know their story nor did they know mine.

This is a good example of, I can say, we only know one side of the story.

Little did I know someone was looking at me.

I smiled at the thought that while I was busy looking at others and reading what’s running on their mind, someone was also busy looking at me. I veered my head and saw his face with a smile painted on it. And those eyes of him darted to me.. For a moment I thought he’s familiar, I thought I knew him, but I didn’t know him at all.

Maybe he was also thinking of what I’m thinking. Well I only know my side, not his.

We only know one side of the story.