A short story I wrote for Filipino class. (just posting it here para may online copy, just in case)
The bed where we once lay.
This is actually sad. This was in my grandparents’ house in the province and my grandma sleeps in this alone now. It may or may not be true, but the sad romantic within me wants to believe that maybe my grandfather slept in this too, beside her. This could be the bed where they once laid together, but now, only memories remain buried within the fibers of the sheets. Reminders of what was once the warmth of embrace.
There are days that I wake up to feeling alone, but then you speak to me and convince me otherwise.
because I have all these feelings and I actually want to write about them
Respect is something I don’t get often, but I give it away to anyone who deserves it.
It’s one thing to say I’m not pretty, but it’s a totally different thing to tell someone that they don’t even deserve to at least feel pretty.
If I were to tell it all to someone, all the problems and trials, I’d spend more than half of the time trying to get my point across. I’d find words and lose them altogether, and I draw further away from my point and into another and it won’t make anymore sense. Maybe when it comes to other problems, I can say it outright, I can fully express what I feel, but not this one, because I don’t know where I stand, and if I force myself to come out, I’ll end up hurting everyone, including myself.
This is not a photo blog, nor is it a personal blog, but how many times have I used this blog to rant or to write about my day? I don’t think I’ve done that ever since Summer ‘11, my post-break up days, when I found it hard to breathe in open spaces. I abandoned it for months, but now I’m completely utilizing it, slowly turning it into what I can call my own.
I don’t want to label my blog. It’s not a photo blog, because it doesn’t only hold pictures, but also my feelings and my words and little by little, I let it hold myself too. This is not a personal blog, because if you do post something online, it can’t be something personal. It’s obviously not personal enough to let the whole Tumblr community see.
This is simply mine. These are my photos, my words, my feelings, my thoughts.
But while it is mine, I’ve never really posted something that truly reflects me as a person. Everything I post seems to only show who I am at the surface, or who I am as a photographer. Unlike other bloggers, I rarely post about my day or what I feel at the moment. I’ve never felt the need to do so, and I doubt people are really looking forward to what happens to me. I like to think that my followers look forward to me, but my realistic (or is it pessimistic…) nature begs to differ.
My lack of ‘me’ posts seems to defeat the purpose of calling this as ‘mine’, so maybe once in a while I will blog about what happens to me. I just hope you won’t get annoyed at my lack of ‘interesting’ and other sparkle-factors that other people here on Tumblr seem to have. Bear with me and what is mine.
This is not a photo blog, nor is it a personal blog. It’s mine and that’s what it always will be.
I am drowning in my feelings, but I don’t need any saving. In fact, there’s barely anything there to save. I don’t deserve any salvation. I don’t deserve any kind of happiness
I’m okay with that.
One of the best things about taking a picture is how one can freeze time and show the viewer the little things that go unnoticed, the magic behind the magic.