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Raw Script: Emo Doll

Here I go with the strongest, so far, pang of pain. I want to cry my eyes out until my pain sensor gets numb and my cries finally get dumb.

Sometime ago, I began to believe in what you swore as truth. In any tendency, I thought I can handle whatever cause I would end at.

I don't want to bother you about anything that does wrong with your mental focus on reviewing, more so with your health.But it hurts so much that it's hard to contain the toxicity inside all by myself so telling you I'm hurting is what I'm thinking to be the first move. At the littlest hint of it, you turn into your genius of alibis.

I just can't go on doing things with somebody hurting.

I'm so whacked out. I find no strength to give you up. And still into completely fooling myself I am your stimulus of your magical metamorphosis. I don't want to end with this first relationship of mine being traumatized. Can we be honest about ourselves to the least?

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World Teacher's Day

   For today’s sake of celebrating teachers, let me get down my memory lane circa 1994.  Ms. Florida Dao-ines was my grade 1 teacher in the then Kayan Community School. I thanked that I was bit of a reader so I was spared from her famed stick. Of course, my hearing wasn’t excused of her voice harping on the day’s if not yesterday’s lesson. Oh, I could see her small figure with her short curly hairdo passing by my grandparents’ place because she used to visit her brother on the next house. Ms. Dao-ines taught us room maintenance the organic way— scrub off graffiti on wooden desks with sandpaper tree leaves, sweep off dirt, whip the floor with banana leaves and finish it off with coconut husk. On my second year with my grandparents going as second grader, I had Teacher Jeaneth Juan. She was my first troop leader in GSP and Agadangan became a vivid memory of the Scout Movement. Enamored with her not-so-strict classroom bearing, my classmates and I were saddened when on...
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WOMAN-ified ME

I was born a woman but ended up acting the opposite. Clumsiness and its cousins in the thesaurus is what I am. Finesse goes unsaid and unheard in my world. I preferred oversized tees over fitting blouses. I refused figure-flaterring dresses for loose pants. I would choose a paintless face even being merged with a bin of all-made-up pretties. But I knew I am a woman inside. So are the secret feelings that have silently died. It was only me who knows everything of what-really-is. It was hard shifting to finer moves. Oh graceful me in sweat! I hate being with someone who I cannot see myself. Because to me, gaudiness is parallel to fun. Not long after, I’ve been to stores of pallets. So the smudged me emerged. Little by little, I’ve added garments I thought I can never wear. These changes of seeing ourselves that can improve us.   
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Another Day Lived

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