I want to leave. I want to stop caring. I have stopped caring, have I not?

But it’s keeping me awake at night, and bringing me down to sleep at day. I am in constant denial, in constant fear, worry.

Often I would rather not see anyone. I would rather it be dark outside my window. I would rather it be night rather than day.

Cause then I know.. No one will be looking for me. I am free.

But when the sun comes out and I hear noises of life outside, I began to worry. Reality is coming back.

I would rather shut down the world. Sometimes.. No… Often, I don’t miss anyone. I want to be alone.

There’s the internet. There’s the books. There’s the vlogs, the movies, the docus, if I want to peek the outside world. I’m fine here in my room all day, all week. Maybe even, all year round.

But… If I quit my hell of a job…

Where do I go from here?

I’m not happy.

Is there a place I can be fully happy to have live this far in my life?

Or… Will I be forever in a limbo, in the name of survival?

Do we need chaos?

The world is being ravaged by a virus.

But we didn’t even stop, not a bated breath; all went on rushing with their lives, not even pausing to look back after bumping shoulders with it.

Have you ever felt that angry?

When in a busy street, a stranger bumps to you. Hard. Suddenly, you staggered, almost falling, disturbing you from the equilibrium that you had, and sometimes even causing you to lose direction. But the stranger doesn’t even stop nor turn to look back, as if you are nothing worth noting of. The stranger just go on with his life, vanishing in a blur as you stare at its back, expecting a reaction.

The virus got angry.

Just like you, it wanted to be noticed.

To be given the time.

To be recognized.

To be feared.


Even with all the deaths it has caused, our nation was not shaken.

No, not because of bravery nor resiliency.





We think we are above all others. Especially to those who suffered from the wrath of the virus.

Bat soup? How disgusting they are, we said. How could they eat such abomination?

We forget the basic answer: survival.

They eat to survive. They eat because that’s what they have eaten to survive and has grown accustomed to surviving in such a way. Like all humans do.

Are we any better?

As they die, we watched them. Most, even with relish, mocking as they fall. One by one.

And we mocked them even more when we went on with our lives, unperturbed of the virus.

Why? Because we’re clean? Because we’re decent than them? More humane?

Are we really?

The body count rises, our mocking escalates. Some feigned compassion, but slips out a blame or two, comparing lifestyles as they do.

The virus dominates.

Those who had fallen and struggled behind its path, cried, screamed, warned but to no avail. The large nations refused to adhere, to listen.

We will not fall. We are not weak. We are not dirty. We are unlike you, they said. This virus will die at my fist.

But it didn’t.

These nations are now falling to its knees, begging, bargaining, and hiding even from the mere mention of the virus.

And yet, why am I still outside?

Why do we still put up a strong front?

It hasn’t showed up here yet, he said. No one in my domicile has fallen victim to it yet. Why should I raise the white flag?

Go on with your lives. I daresay, you all are weaklings, he said.

They asked him, are we to wait? Are we to wait for someone to fall before we act?

Peace is a luxury. Health is a luxury. And soon, freedom to walk and breath freely will be a luxury.

But he squanders them, serving them all on a silver platter to the unknown, merely to puff his chest to his “weak” peers.

To survive an impending doom,

do we need chaos?



It didn’t look like the usual 05:38 A.M. sky. It was too dark. I had to pull the curtains twice and look at my phone twice just to make sure I was not deluding. 05:38, shows my phone in BOLD font.

It was cold. It was amazing my body woke up early but I stubbornly went back to sleep. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I thought I’ve got more time to buy.

Then, I dreamt of my senior colleague. Senior. Older than my mother. At the time, I didn’t think it weird. I was dreaming.

No one’s usually quick-witted in a dream, are you?

Then, she fell down on her knees. I helped her up. Then somehow we were playing around and laughing. It’s as if I was very comfortable with her, than usual. We suddenly danced.

Not breaking into a dance like 💃🏻. But more like we became dance partners. I held on to her, she held on to me.

Then, it happened.

She, barefoot, intentionally lifted her feet one by one over my feet. So when we danced, I would carry her step by step.

Then, it hit me.

Mama? In my dream, I suddenly became quick-witted and made a realization that the person who would play around like this with me… is my mom.

Before I could react to her, I woke up.

It’s already 06:30 A.M. I’m running late. But..

I couldn’t move. I DIDN’T want to. Mama. I can’t be wrong. I suddenly felt it was really her. Not my colleague. I felt like… I’m falling again.. to despair. I don’t want to leave my bed.

Reality is hitting me hard again. Waking up to a reality where my mama is gone, where I could no longer hold her, where I could no longer laugh with her, play with her, dance with her..

where I have to be desperate of any chance that she may show up in one of my dreams…

I ignored the school bell of the high school near our home. It’s 06:45 A.M. I didn’t get up and rush downstairs like I usually do. I crouched on my bed.

I didn’t feel like it. I don’t feel like facing the world.. I went back to sleep.

But she didn’t show up again.

If not for my failing attendance, I wouldn’t bother going to work. But I couldn’t help taking the morning off.

Just take everything off.

Lost Souls

It has been two years since the loss of my mother and I thought I have move on. But I still find myself crying all of the sudden in the middle of the night. Grieving. Missing her. Not accepting that she’s really gone. I was never a teary person before, not so much after my little sister’s death, but my Mom changed that. Anything could make me cry. Movies, music, books, or even just a glance of someone or something that reminds me of her. But at a second glance, it barely looks anything like her.

They say that when people die, some don’t pass through successfully and become lost souls.. But how can the living claim anything about the dead? What do they know of something they have not experienced yet? Are they not actually really talking about the living? About the people left behind?

About us?
After my mom’s death, I thought life goes on, time still flows, and I still have a future to go to. My Mom, months before her death, always asked me what my plans are. Screening me with then hypothetical questions of what if‘s, generally what if she died. I was so confident back then that I can handle myself, I have a direction. But that was just my denial playing out. Arrogant. Naive. Ignorant. Now, her fear has been realized. I really did thought I have a clear direction of where I’m going. But it all seem delusions now. I’m lost. I’m trapped. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, I’m not sure where I’m at and if the path I’m facing now, is it really a path? Or have I been just standing and staring into an empty expanse of nowhere the whole time?

We’re they really talking about the dead?
Aren’t we the living, left behind, the real lost souls?

I miss my Mom..
I really miss her a lot.
But wherever I go, whether I take a step to the so-called future or stop here and jump to death, will I ever meet her again?

Or were those times I wasted locking in my room the only opportunity I had for more time with her?

I’m beginning to fall…