Time… is all we need

—For the confusion to die down.

—For the strong emotions to calm.

—For wounds to heal.

—For grief to turn to acceptance.

—For us to heal.

And laugh again over silly conversations.

Overlooking our dear sister’s grave, we put back the pieces together, using funny tales and relatable experiences, for the time we lost and a future we will still have.

Our laughs echoed at the desolate cemetery.

We were there not to grieve, but to remember what it was like being a family.

And I’m sure our sister laughed with us.

And so was Mama.

Together… again. Siblings.

Are we in the wrong?

This has been a consistent question in the minds of my friend and I. All this time, are we in the wrong? And we go back and forth between yes and no as we both debunk the arguments between the easy answer.

What’s the easy answer, you ask?

It’s “yes”.

Why is it the easy answer? Simply because it would mean conforming to our environment, to the people surrounding us – no, to be precise – the people suffocating us, pushing us to a corner, isolating us without remorse.

Why is it so hard to do what’s right, what’s essentially is on black and white?

My friend and I have dove into a new challenge. We thought it wouldn’t be so hard as the procedures is already established, the system – although antiquated in this era of technology – is long running, and the guiding policies are all have been in black and white.

New to this, we devoured all that we can learn and research by ourselves of these new tasks we had to face, adapting as fast as we could, developing a new system using technology with a vision that we will soon be able to smoothly transition and maneuver in this new area we are assigned to.

We kept to our lane, striving to be indifferent to what was essentially outside our responsibilities, and being apathetic to the self-interests of others. But still many were not happy.

It seems like in this environment, just seeing us breathing and moving, is offensive to others. If only they could ignore us as much as we have ignored them.

Go run your own paths. Our destination is elsewhere.

As we learned the policies and processes of our tasks, we were shocked on how everyone has deviated from them. We struggled to re-read what we have learned if could there have been misinterpretation from our end but if “outside of” is not allowed, why have they allowed it? If the data should be completely provided of, why is an absence allowed? Why compensate when there’s doubt as to the legitimacy of the claim?

And why are we wrong if our basis is right?

Why are they hating on us when we merely asks to be provided for what is lacking?

Why are we to be blamed for the delay when they are the ones not on time?

Why are we in the wrong?

Welcome back, lonely self~

Look who finally came around after a long time~

Me. And my demons, it seems.

As I browsed through my previous posts, I realized I only come here when I am filled with negativity brimming over the surface, about to spill out, or maybe already spilling over, yet never runs out.

These past days, with no one to talk to without guilt that I’ll eventually wear them down, I thought I should write in my journal. But how do I write without tiring my hands and falling asleep? Just thinking about writing and trying to keep my jumbled thoughts organized on paper exhausts me. The bed right near my desk always wins over my journal.

So I thought, oh, what about an online diary?
And I realized I do have one… that I no longer visit.

So here I am.


With my inner demons in tow.

Welcome me back~

Is it too late?

I had planned it.

But, without noticing the passing of days, it is already the twelfth of January.

Is it too late to start a diary?

I try to remember the days in between today and the first of January, my mind draws a blank… My memory, I realized, is like a hazy painting diluted with too much water.

But who would care, aside from me, if I leave some days blank? No one.

Made my own 3-year diary.

A diary filled of one’s thoughts for three years, ain’t it a wonderful idea? One will be able to read how similar or contrasting your mindset may have been the year before.

I did prefer a 5-year diary but the pretty journal I bought is too small for it.

I found this idea from Sharmeleon’s vlog when she showed the 5-year diary she has.

Here’s to hoping I can keep the habit…


I couldn’t sleep. 04:08 A.M.

The memories of my mother dying in a public hospital haunts me. The mother who always made sure we are comfortable. The mother who always have us admitted in the best facility, if possible; aircon rooms, soft beds, soft pillows, plenty of food. The mother who always watch us to sleep; fan us when hot, tuck us from mosquitoes.

She died in the most pathetic circumstances.

In a public hospital. In a ward. A hot ward, with hundreds of other patients of different ailments.

In a ward, where I witnessed three code blues, two deaths and heard the pained moans of patients and the desperate cries of families.

It was the worst place for my mother to be in her dying moments.

Even a woman as strong and optimistic like my mother, would falter at such environment…

And I… I was not able to do anything to turn her circumstances any better.

I even broke my promise to her. I was selfish at the expense of her wellbeing. I didn’t spare her from pain.

Like what she wanted me to… months before everything turned for the worse.

I still feel bad bout it until now. I am still full of guilt. Mother knows best. I should have listened to her, and followed her wishes.

Everyone thought I was “brave” to have stayed beside her as they forced the tube through her mouth. But I was not. I was not brave.

If I were brave, at that point, I should’ve been brave enough to accept that it’s time for her to go. That I shouldn’t force it upon her, cause she knew what was coming. I KNEW what was coming. She told me.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t let her go.

And that only made it very painful for her.

That moment, when she was to be transferred to the ICU, and the last conscious moment we saw of her was her tears falling quietly, many thought it’s because she sees us her children panicking.

But at that time, my guilt told me that was her tears of the pain being forced to live and tortured with that tube through her throat to the stomach.

She didn’t deserve that pain..

She didn’t deserve to suffer on her last moments. She was supposed to go with a peaceful painless smile on her face…

I was not able to give her that…

I failed.


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…