In solitude I may find myself
Far away from you, I may seek to be whole
Yet your presence I long
And your love I yearn to feel
This peace giveth me a chance
To rebuild the pieces broken
From chances forsaken


On Never Looking Back

It has been a week since you left me hanging. As I walked back home with a heavy heart, I looked out to the EDSA skyline and wondered to myself, “How is this going to be any better?”

I wasn’t sure how it would, but something in me tells me to never worry.

Monday came, and it was never the same again. No more of your morning messages – teasing me every now and then, or reminding me to take my lunch when I intended to skip the meal to work in the lab. I was no longer looking forward to nine o’clock to hear your sweet voice and beg you to sing a song for me.

How I wished Sunday never came, but it’s a Sunday once more. A week has passed and no word from you. I have decided to move on from this. As I look out at the gloomy horizon outside the window, even if it takes me more than my remaining courage to walk in the rain, I’m pretty certain there are better days ahead of me.

I shall no longer look back in pain; I will hold on to a great promise of tomorrow.


This post was made as a response to today’s one – word prompt! If you feel like challenging yourself to create great stories from these prompts, check it out here :)

Bus Rides (and First Impressions)

It was past nine in the evening, and the mall was about to close. For the weirdest reason, I found myself worrying that something wouldn’t turn out right when you arrive. No, don’t worry. This is something new, I tell myself as I rub my hands together, while waiting for you outside the mall.

At last, after a few minutes of waiting, you came. I tried my best to assess this situation and not make a fool out of myself. You confirmed our meet up spot was closed already, and you suggested we go elsewhere just before you ride the bus to your weekday place.

I tried to do small talk, but there you were fixated on something you didn’t want to disclose. After that flight of stairs and another stumble, I decided to just bring you back to the bus stop, as you constantly reassure me that nothing is wrong. (As if I would take that for real.)

Why does it always have to be like this, when I go to such places? Always afraid of sending off someone close to me, and feeling they may never come back?

As I slowly succumb to the cold air, and the texts that came colder than your usual warm self, I begin to question myself.

It made me realize how much I hate buses.