What’s Three* Years Compared to the Rest of Your Life?

Recently, I had one of those in-depth conversations with a very inspiring lady. One question that really got me going was this, “What’s [three] years compared to the rest of your life?” Yes, indeed.

This is one of those questions that are not even intended to be answered in a spur of a second. It has all sorts of answers depending on your state of mind at the time that it was fired at you. When my friend posed that question to me, she spoke it like a prayer. Like some kind of an advice but a whole lot more than that and so I didn’t even bother answering because I knew that she wasn’t expecting an answer. She meant for me to take it with me after our conversation.. to ruminate upon, poke at it in different ways, see all sides of it from different angles. But I answered anyway silently inside my mind. I like to keep things simple. One word. Yes, at that moment, that was what was inside of me, waiting to be uttered but the word was like a shy kid. It refused to come out.

We have so much time in this world. So much time we can swim in it, who knows, for one thousand, one million laps, or more, so much time it cannot be swam through. It cannot be contained. (This sounds like some movie I watched a few months back.) Who knows right? What will be coming is waiting to be spent, waiting like the moon waits for the skies to get dark every night in this part of the world, like the days that couldn’t wait for the sun to rise for new beginnings. The rest of my life is waiting, it can’t wait to show me what could still be. What I could be. It can’t wait to show how there are so much more to explore, not just physical places, but places that don’t require the senses..

If something is no longer as fulfilling as it was before, if it’s stifling you, if it is stopping your growth.. If you feel like a plant with a Tupperware protectively hovering over it, sheltering it from the sun, the wind and the rain.. if it’s something that’s holding you off from venturing out of your comfort zone.. if it’s something that’s hurting you, makes you want to lock yourself up and cry.. If it’s something that no longer fulfills your needs and wants.. then it’s got to stop. If it’s something that will make you change the essence of who you are.. that will make you forget what makes you tick.. Erase the codes that you’ve carefully built in within yourself for twenty-something years.. Auto-delete what’s been programmed in your mind to make you laugh without inhibitions.. what makes you do all the quirky things that you do.. what makes you you.. If it’s something that makes you fake your laughters and smiles.. then it’s got to stop.

Alright, so let me ask you now. What’s three years compared to the rest of your life? What’s four, seven, ten years compared to the rest of your life? Nothing. They’ve all gone. Three beautiful and sad and tragic years and now this sounds like a Taylor Swift song. Three years was everything with a list that goes on and on so long it could span the entire length of this island, so long it could break records but that’s not my purpose in writing this. 

I guess whoever’s reading this now, I want you to think about it. What’s three years, five, seven, ten years? These are just numbers.. There shouldn’t be regrets or perhaps just a little, but definitely no turning back. 

What’s to come is like a promise, you can almost touch it now if you let go and let be. It can hardly wait and YOU ARE worth the long wait.

*could be three or less or more depending on the reader’s personal experience 🙃


Kawalan by Makatang Rosas

This is a special entry by a dear friend, someone I consider as my second mom, and she gifted me with this poem and it’s very fitting of my situation right now.. Thank you, Makatang Rosas. 😘

Sa sandali ng pagtahak sa landas ng pag-iisa,

Sa daigdig na kung saan hindi ka na nakakasama ;

Walang oras at sandaling hindi kita naaalala ,

Pagkat ang mundo kong ito salat sa kulay at sigla.

Para akong naroroon naglalakbay sa kawalan,

Kung saan ako patutungo yun ay hindi ko alam;

Pagkat ang pagsintang taglay ay pilit kong iniiwasan,

Ay sadyang naroon pa rin at aking nararamdaman.

Saan ako paroroon at dadalhin nitong paa?

Kung ang iyong mga haplos ay di ko na nadarama,

At ang bawat tagpong yao’y silay na lang sa alaala,

Mayroon pa ba sa mga labing mga ngiting maliligaya?

Tahimik ang bawat paligid at puso ko ay nakaratay,

Nag-iisip sa desisyong ipinasyang maibigay;

Paano paninindigang tuluyan na sayong mawalay,

Kung ang damdamin kong ito sabik pa ring naghihintay.

Bawat sandali sa pagtahak ko ng landas,

Nais pa ring sariwain yaong mga nakalipas,

Pinagyayaman ko pa rin mga natitirang bakas,

Pagkat nais ka pang makasama sa darating na mga bukas.

– Makatang Rosas

Sa Malayang Tulaan

10/16/2017  11:53am


But somewhere out there.. there we are, holding each others’ hands.. we, marveling about how they perfectly fit together the way my heart fits perfectly inside your chest cavity and yours in mine, so perfect we could swap hearts and the difference would be hardly noticeable.

She walked down that path. They were meeting for the first time. She was ruminating about how many times she’d been doing this.. meeting people for the first time. Meeting a friend for the first time. How people would start as strangers completely clueless about what they were like when they were younger, clueless about what time they were born in this world, hmmm she doesn’t even know when exactly she came to this world.. completely clueless of the quirks that they were hiding from other people.. and suddenly they are friends and that is just so mind-blowing, don’t you think? Like we are such social animals and can’t leave each other alone.

So why can’t we leave each other alone?

I. Couldn’t. Get. Enough. Of. You.

He was wearing a polo shirt and she was thinking that they could be perfect together because why not?

You. You told me things. Like how you like to do lots of things. Like you’re some sort of a jack of all trades but a master of none. And I believed you and I had come to know that that is true.

You told me things. About you. And I just wanted to know more.

So why couldn’t we leave each other alone?

Somewhere out there are people loving for the first time, breaking up for the first time. Or maybe for the last time but what I have in me is hope. Hope that there are beautiful days to come. That this is just a hiccup, a major hiccup, but a hiccup nonetheless. Nothing that can’t be fixed. Somewhere out there are all the other possibilities. Thousands, endless, so many possibilitues — and yes that’s a typo cause I’m writing way too fast—the world couldn’t hold them, the last ones remain floating in the Galaxy. You, perfectly fine, alone.. nothing and no one to worry about except for yourself.. You finding someone else better than I am.. I, finding someone who shares my interests and quirks and dreams in life. But somewhere out there.. there we are, holding each others’ hands.. we marveling about how they perfectly fit together the way my heart fits perfectly inside your chest cavity and yours in mine, so perfect we could swap hearts and the difference would be hardly noticeable.

Sometimes, I worried a lot. I worried about that time when I thought I had disappointed you. I would obsess about it the whole time. It would lurk inside my head, like a ghost on my hindsight, waiting to present itself.

I would worry about not remembering that feeling of excitement the first time I met you. That giddy feeling that I never want to forget. You had that smile on your eyes, you had that look on your lips and I knew right then that you were going to kiss me on the cheek. You did. And I couldn’t take my eyes off you.

I never told you, but I was worried shit that day we first met. I have never been on a date with someone I was meeting for the first time. I swear I wanted to un-send the sms I sent you. You must know by now that I am not one to think things through. I make decisions in a spur of a second and I know that that is bad but that day, when I decided to see you, it was the best in-the-moment decision I have ever made. Never, ever, even at this point am I regretting that.

Everytime you talk about the universe conspiring against us, I laughed at you and teased you for assuming that you were the most unfortunate man in the universe. Because you weren’t. Know that even the best among us are passed up by luck (or the equivalent of that) because nothing in this world is good enough without all of these imperfections. You are lucky because, to me, you are perfect with all of your imperfections and I know that’s cliche but I speak the truth.

Oftentimes, I wonder why I hadn’t met you early on, why you hadn’t showed up when we were still in college. It would’ve been perfect. Proximity happens by chance, by coincidence. But, in our case, you made it possible. You said you weren’t able to resist me and the distance between us. You said, “I know I had to cross it, and the sooner the better so that I may know if you wanted me as well.” Of course, I did. Still do. Want you. Love you.

That book, the first one you gave me is about memories. Some of these memories won’t go away. I have mine, too. Words cannot be unsaid and actions cannot come undone. But we can utter more loving words and do thoughtful actions and make new memories. Yes, even at this point. Happy ones, preferably, so that we won’t be rattled when the past tries to catch up with us.

I look stupid here but I love you. While you are asleep, I love you. And by the time you wake up, be reminded again that I love you.

The Waves are Coming

The treacherous waves are coming and the girl is not quite prepared for that. If she could just stop them, she would. Of all places, this is where she remembers him though they’ve never been to this particular spot before. Sunsets and beaches and skies painted with ochre, burnt orange, sometimes purple and your face just surfaces in my mind.

That was the day before it was over. We held hands by the beach. The spaces between your fingers, that’s where mine perfectly fit, but that day, it didn’t feel quite right anymore. I grasped your hand, traced my finger in the inside of your palm, feeling every crease and line but your fingers didn’t tighten at the slightest touch the way it used to before. You were staring at the horizon, deep in your thoughts, and though I was dying to ask you what you were thinking about, something stopped me. I realized that I was afraid of knowing. The waves were coming.

The waves were coming and the girl ran away from them but you didn’t. Perhaps, you were tired. Tired of your life, everything, meeting other people’s expectations. And I understand. If you push her away, she won’t resist anymore. But know that she will always be there.

I will never leave you, that’s a promise.
The tears flowing down her face are joining the saltwater and no one would know the difference. The waves were coming to wash out all of your memories of you and I and you were just standing there, you can hardly wait for the waves to consume you.


In it’s simplicity, 1 is the grandest of all numbers. One means number one, like, “You are my number one!” You are my number one man, my hero, my comforter, my Panda, my shoulder to lean on. You are my one and only, my love, my bestfriend.

We are not in the habit of counting the hours, days, and months. But today.. Today, let’s scratch that. Because, today we turn one. How great is that? 😄



I wasn’t expecting you, love.
You are not the man I wanted.
You are not the skin and scars I saw in my slumber.

You are beautiful, you are careless sophistication.
You stirred in me a passion deeper than what the senses could perceive..
You are more captivating than the beauty that the eyes could see..
More than fire that the skin could ignite.
You are more than flesh and bones.

You are more than flesh and bones.
Your words– my hope– reawakening my heart’s desires..
I thirst for your touch.
Your mind, brilliant mind, is my sanctuary.
Your eyes, two large orbs allowing me a glimpse into your soul, I love to kiss.
You are beautiful,– soul, mind and body.

No, you are not the man I asked for. I wanted the best. But you, are different.

You, are better than all the best combined.

Pretty Boy

You are pretty.
Your skin is clear– unscarred, unscathed.
Your face is of an angel, your stare is gentle, your smile sparkles.
Those muscles well-toned, your physique is built into perfection, built to defend someone. And you move as though the world revolves around you.

But you are only pretty. You are nothing else.
Your arms should be wrapped around her in passionate embrace, but, no, they are guilty of strangling her lovely neck. Your hands are to touch her face, hold her hands, and the small of her back but you turn them into fists, slap her face, punch her sides, and pummel her until she is a bloody pulp. Your lips, are meant to kiss her gently on the lips but the venom you spit poisons her. Your words are supposed to be sweet caress on her ears but, alas, they hurt like blade stuck into the heart. You are not a man. You are a murderer. Her body is still alive, but her soul is torn apart. Can’t you see, she is barely breathing!

Now tell me with all the honesty you could muster: are you a man?

You are nothing. Nothing but your looks.


Photo via Global Citizen UK

To S. — you are a brave woman.