Now That You’re Gone

It’s only day 3.

I know I’m not going to hear from you and I can’t let you hear from me too.


I unlock the door and hope that I’d find you on the couch waiting for me.

I walk down the corridor and look back hoping you’d been following me.

I start the car and hope that you’re somewhere at the entrance of the parking waiting to say bye to me.

My fingertips remember how your skin feels.

When I take a breath I can lose myself in the memory of your scent.

The ghost of you haunts me. And even though I’m the one that called the shots, even though I’m the one that set the rules, I wish your ghost would come in your flesh and bones.


I want to tell you that I have my answer, but I’m afraid that you still don’t.

So I have to wait.


Now that you’re gone, I just have to wait.



Worthy Is A Six Letter Word

They insisted that I make a password.

I didn’t want to. I don’t want to do much these days.

I get late to work, my eyes go blurry when I’m driving because most songs make me cry and I force myself to smile.

But everyday, I fake it till I make it. And I do make it.

But then it’s 6.30 a.m. again and the miserable clock resets.

And they wanted me to make a password and I could not have been fucked. But they insisted.

I insisted. I have nothing special on there, but no, they were persistent.

I’m couldn’t be fucked to fight. Fine.

I thought of a number combination, but I knew I’d forget it. Then I thought of using a word. The only word that came up in my head was “worthless”.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit.”

And stupidly, without thinking, I went on to try and type out “worthless”.

9 (W)… 6 (O)… 7 (R)… 8 (T)…4 (H)… 5 (L)… 3(E)…

3…. 3… 3…

I snapped out of my daze and realized that I could only have 6 figures in the password. They should have told me at the start. I would have come up with something else.

So I deleted 3 and hovered on 5, thinking of how to end it. Then I deleted 5.




They asked me to hurry up.

Y? 9?

I guess?

9 (W)… 6 (O)… 7 (R)… 8 (T)…4 (H)… 9 (Y)… ?



I guess I’m worthy.


And it’d be a pleasure to not be this overwhelmed by everything. Feelings leave me motionless. So I learn to not feel.

But you sat across me and I heard the sirens of an ambulance, and I assured you that this is so, so normal. I hear them at least once, everyday.

But one day it’d be your hands in mine, and that sound that normally takes a turn around the corner and fades out…..that sound, will park it’s four frantic wheels right by our side. And then what?

What good would this desensitization be?

No good…

I’m no good till I figure out how to direct all this overstimulation instead of shutting it out.


How To Fall Out of Love

1. It is very important to not make eye contact.

Eye contact, leads to words, and words lead to feelings, feelings are bad.

The goal is disconnection.

You don’t want to hate them, you want to not care about them. There’s a difference.

2. Avoid proximity.

If they are going left , you go right. Proximity, could lead to eye contact, eye contact could lead to words, and as established above words -> bad.

3. I’d like to tell you what a trap social media is but who are we kidding, you won’t quit it. So quit them.

Unfriend the shit out of them (and maybe their friends, or your common friends). You should have the numbers of the friends that really matter, so there’s no need to keep them on social media where you can stalk your ex- lover /love interest through their photos.

They don’t get notifications for that. And even if they find out, really does it matter?

You need to not care. And till you get there, you don’t need reasons to maintain care.

4. Distractions are your best friends.

Wait, your friends are your best distractions. But if you don’t feel like you have friends, just know that I’m a person that names tables and chairs.

Your couch – distraction. Sleep on it, reupholster it.

Your kitchen- distraction. Learn every recipe from continent to continent.

Your balcony – distraction. Clean it, out a chair out there, add some fairy lights.

5. Chuck the memorabilia

Chuck and chug. Get that Lambanog (Filipino drink of death, in my books) , get those old photos and thingamys and for every 5 items that go in the bin you take one big swig of your drink.

Alcohol is antiseptic after all. Disinfect that system of yours.

You’ve got this. If you’ve got to move on, you have got to move on.


You can’t make mistakes.

If you do, say sorry.

You can’t just keep saying sorry, you have to mean it.

What does that mean anyway?

It’s hard. It’s hard to educate our kids and each other on when to stop 2+2 is 4 (quick maths!).


This is what I think of love from all that I’ve learned from my relationships with family, friends and romantic relationships:

Love is:

conditional because you need to love yourself enough to be capable of loving someone else.

conditional because you need to have enough self worth to accept love.

conditional because it’s a cycle, you bounce things off of each other.

constantly choosing to fight for it.

not justifiying your defense mechanisms.

adding quality to life.

mutual respect.

getting out of your comfort zone.

not a thing to tick off your bucket list.

not a remedy to loneliness because you may love and be loved but still feel lonely at times.


Love not  worth it Рyou dont have to do it- but you can.


A little interview my partner and I did with my grandad, inspired by Human, The Film.