“Do you love Me more than these?”

“Do you love me more than these?” each of them asked.

And without any doubt you answered, “Yes”, full of conviction and assurance to give your all—and so you did.

You offered them the moon with the glistening dust in the vastly night skies. They became your poem, your prose and every word in your vocabulary. You sing them to sleep even when your throat can’t function well anymore; you endlessly played the guitar even when your hands were already full of blisters due to too much use of it. Every good morning text and wake up call, every good night sigh and write-up song, every blissful hi and ecstatic let’s-go-out, everything… everything was devoted and only for them.

You gave too much, and that’s the entry point for hollowness.


You found yourself, in the midst of nowhere—alone and finding no comfort in solitude—enduring the heat of the sun on your bare skin, the roughness of the road on your bare feet, tasting the salty water of grief coming from your beautiful eyes—covered up with your smudge mascara—and barely breathing, walking with no direction at all.

“Do you love me more than these?” each of them asked, for the nth time.

And without any doubt you answered, “Yes”.

You answered “Yes”, the “yes” felt like the last coin in your pocket, the last piece of pizza in the box, the last strawberry flavored cake in the counter, the last butternut—the last breathe of serenity; the last hope you have; the last sigh of relief and the last smile your face could display.

“Do you love me more than these?” It was your turn to ask.

But you heard nothing. You heard nothing but the sound of footsteps intending to walk away from you. You were standing in the core of darkness with not a single soul to stand beside you. The entire yes’s you gave led you to all the no’s this world could offer.

“Do you love Me more than these?” Someone asked. The voice was different from the others, so soothing and so calm. But the familiarity of it faded, as for the last time you heard the question, emptiness found you.

It hit you. “These” sounds massive, big and wholly, as if it would take your life, the totality of what makes you, all your possessions, all that you could breathe and all that you could give—all your all.

You have decided to be selfish. You have decided to give none. You chose to stay silent despite of the question haunting you every minute.

“Do you love Me more than these?”

“Do you love Me more than these?”

“Do you love Me more than these?”

No response.

The statement was answerable by “yes” or “no” but it was like a lump in your throat—to answer is to break you.

“Do you love Me more than these?” The voice asked, over and over again.

Patiently waiting…

Until, “Tell me, how? How to give when I have none? How to love when my heart is no longer functioning the way it that should? I have nothing but this hollowness inside my chest, this darkness in my soul, this heart that is broken and this soul that is aching to surrender what’s left. How? How can I say yes when I have nothing but no? How can I love when I have nothing at all?” You blasted out as your knees touched the ground, with your hands covering your face that was full of tears.

He stared at you for an ephemeral moment, until a smile find its way to His face.

“Do you love Me more than these?”

“…more than these—these heartbreaks, mundaneness, this pain, this agony and these tears. Do you love Me more than these—these resources, these approvals, these school works, and this wealth? Do you love Me more than the “yes” from others, the moon and the stars the world had already gave you. Do you love Me more than these—all these, everything that’s keeping you from seeing me, from loving me?”

“…because I love you beyond these.”

That was when your heart started aching. How could someone possibly break a heart with such gentleness? How could someone possibly light the whole town with such words? How could someone possibly give hope to the hopeless, how could He possibly replace strength to one’s weakness?

“Do you love Me more than these?” He asked. And there was no other way to count on your fingers how many times.

You have never seen a love so faithful—adhering firmly to one’s soul, a love so selfless, a love that endures—until you saw yourself, standing before the cross, blood dripping from the wounds of a Man, and the hammer within your grasp. You have nailed Him but He was still smiling, praying for you, waiting for you to hold his hand again, and loving you with all His will and heart. He is a victor over sin and death; He came from the grave to the sky in pursuance of you.

That was a love; a love that is so worthy of every “yes”.

“Yes.” You finally responded, full of conviction and assurance to give your all—and so you did, this time for the right person for all the right reasons.

 “I love you, beyond measure.” God retorted back.


Welcome to the society’s chaotic inception.

They have hushed me,
For this is my society,
Their words were like knives,
Each letters and syllables will take your life.
That kid on the street,
Ultimately pleading on his knees,
But he was hushed too,
Just because he was begging to… live.

They have muted me,
For this is my society,
Their thoughts were like snake,
It will slither on your body,
Until every morsel of your flesh be shaken,
Until all the blood in your veins be drained.
That sexually harassed victim,
The society killed her dreams,
For they were judging her in accordance to what they believe,
She was muted too,
Just because she was asking to… live.

They have silenced me,
For this is my society,
Their mindset was lethal,
Every move will cause damages that are fatal.
Can you see the blood-bath wars?
And the scattered fears like stars?
How about the victims’ internal scars?
They chose to be silenced,
Just because they were pleading to… live.

They have sewed my mouth,
For this is my society,
A society of false stories,
No-mercy killing,
Bad faith calling,
Extortion of millions,
Suffering of billions,

They have suppressed me,
For this is my society,
Where people emphasize nothing but your wrongs,
No one ever bother themselves to look beyond.
A society where the central point is a mixture of hypocrisy, chaos and pin-pointing diversity,
A society where everyone wants to… live,
Because everyday feels like an emotional, mental and spiritual’ killing spree.

I hope the second part of this poem will say;
Welcome to the society’s covenant of beautiful denouement.

But when?


End this, for we want to speak.

Moving Forward

And I’ve decided to move forward.

Moving forward doesn’t necessarily mean that we have to take an accelerative step and never look back. I think it’s more on having a higher level of maturity and concentrating in new set of priorities. We all do have different urgencies or main concerns, but choosing to take a step forward means changing how your gaze perceived some things. Moving forward isn’t just about letting go, ‘cause letting go means that you are going to lose your grip on something or someone but your heart will still yearn for it. While writing this, I realized that my totality desires to move forward and the only thought I have in my mind as of the moment is that; it means giving up. Yes, giving up—giving up your old life, giving up the things you used to live your life with, giving up your old habits, giving up your favorite sins, giving up the last piece of pizza, giving up your comfortable seat in public transpo, giving up the last coin in your pocket to give it to that poor little boy you saw in the street, giving up your favorite band, giving up your mediocrity—giving up your comfort zone. Because giving up means giving up. There’s no turning back. Moving forward means being afraid to what’s coming but still taking the other lane that was rightly designated for you. It means that you are going to see life in a new horizon and taking a huge leap, a massive jump to whatever it is that you are terrified of. Taking your first step is indeed scary. It might be that simple, but it is never easy, never will it be.

I’ve decided to give up—my sins, my over analyzer persona, my detestable self, my directioner being, my agony, my old baddie habits—and this space isn’t enough to enumerate everything that I want to turn my back on.

And I’ve decided to move forward.

I’m on my way. 

To the Maker of the Stars

I’m the biggest worrier in town. I tend to overthink everything—from the way other people talk to the way they move, from the way I feel to the way I deal with everything that life has to offer, from the changes in everyday system to the dysfunctional arrangement of life. Far too many times, I compare my journey to someone else’s while completely forgetting that You gave me a different path to take, a special path only crafted for me. I tend to belittle myself by standing every day in front of the mirror and hating every inch that I see. I love to do things on my own—dealing with my own setbacks, picking myself up so that no one would see me struggling, hiding in the little world that I have created myself and relying to the illusion that I have long convinced myself with; I have everything under control. But in realistic side, I am losing it bit by bit. I have trusted myself to reach the destination without realizing that I already pulled my hands out from Your tender grasp. I have been depending on my own for so long, and I’m growing tired. I’m tired of walking on the same road full of broken spectacle shards and still convincing myself that I’m okay even with my bloody feet, broken heart, twisted mind and exhausted soul. I’m tired of telling people that I don’t need anyone’s saving because I do, I need to be rescued, I need to fly once more and see the vast variety of colors roaming around the world that had been dull gray when I took steps away from You, from few steps to bigger ones, until I gone astray.

I surrender.

I want to give You my heart. I found it in the midst of nothingness, deteriorated and almost giving up. I want to give You my soul ‘cause Your love can glued it back. Teach me to let go and to just let You. Teach me to loose grasp of the myth that I have been living with; “I have a total control over my life.” You lend me your ears when no one wants to listen. You offer me Your eyes when I’m slowly getting blinded by the mediocrity of life. You give me strength when I am losing mine. You never gave up on me when I already did myself. You become my air when the world’s asphyxiating me. You’re the ocean of life, the groundwork of my faith tower and I couldn’t ask for more. When the depths of the despair consumed me, Your hands are the ones I’m still willing to hold on to. What took me so long to perceive that all this time, the love that the whole world has been searching for, is here with me? The kind of love that knows no condition; a love that just loves.

I want to stop myself from writing my story. Everything made so much sense to me when the thunderbolts of realizations strike; I shall give you the pen. Teach me to write the story in accordance to Your outline. I know You won’t erase the chapters that I made but the ones that are not written yet would be gratifyingly constructed according to the framework that You have for me. God, I’m letting you take over.

To the Maker of the stars, You’ll always be my favorite author.



“Hey.” You said as you took the seat beside me.

“Oh. Hey.” I retorted; and I pulled out the earphones from my ears. I tried to hide the uneasiness that I was feeling but no to avail. The carpenters in my chest started hammering my heart while these butterflies in my stomach started hovering illogically.

“What were you listening to a while ago?” Your gaze traveled to the enmesh wire in my hands.

“Nothing, just some random song I’ve wrote.” I looked on the other side to avoid his gaze.

“Can I?” My heart abruptly lost the beats when your hand brushed on mine as you tried to get the earphones in my hand.

“Can I listen to it?” You added up. I was so afraid to look back. The totality of my being betrayed me; from my reddish cheeks to the irregular heartbeats; from my trembling knees to my wobbly hands.

“Sure.” God knows how hard I tried to utter that word without faltering.

You grabbed the earphones from my hand. You put the other half on your left ear and the other one on my right. You nodded at me and as if on cue, I pressed play. Everything seems picturesque.


I’m closing the books that I’ve wrote for you,

Those late night thoughts, you’re into,

The poems I’ve wrote,

The words I’ve quoted,

Things that will lead me back to you…


That entire moment, I tried looking at the stars, at the vast nightly skies full of glistening dust but I found myself, just staring at you—the you that I’ve fallen, wait no, the you that I’ve figured out this overpowering feelings, just overpowering feelings.


“Beautiful.” You said arbitrarily. My gaze traveled to where you were looking at. Then I saw her—this beautiful lady who has everything that I have living without.

“Yes. She really is.” I smiled. But there was this heaviness inside my chest, something I couldn’t figure out. I pulled out the earphones from your ear. I pulled out the linking thing, the connection.

“I need to go.” I stood up, still wearing a huge smile—my façade. And you smiled back at me; the very same smile that made me baffled, so mystified.


“Hey.” She said, as she took the seat beside you.

“Oh. Hey.” You retorted; you tried to hide the uneasiness that you were feeling but no to avail.


I turned my back. Finally, I did.

I put my earphones back and instantaneously, the music started traveling its way through my heart.


 Things that will lead me back to you…

Cause tonight, is the night,

I’ll let go of my fictitious mind.

Cause I know for a fact,

That you’ll never ever be… mine.

Hey, I don’t like you.

Everybody thinks that I don’t like you, even you. Well, I guess it’s safe to say that I don’t. I don’t like the way you say, “Hey!” and I don’t like it more when you add up my name with it. I don’t like your voice even though it can make someone hover to cloud nine. I don’t like your smile. I don’t like it when you are grinning ear to ear and your eyes are slowly transmuting into thin lines. I don’t like your tenderness. I don’t like it when you open the door for others and you, giving them the seat that was supposedly yours. I don’t like it when you are cheering for me or encouraging me in showing everyone the things I could do. I don’t like it when you are just inches away from me and the close proximity makes my throat dysfunctional because articulating some words and even breathing seem so hard. I don’t like your mind. I don’t like the way you perceive things, the way you contemplate, the way you carry your thoughts. I don’t like you asking me how my day went. I don’t like your simplicity. I don’t like those faultless set of white teeth. I don’t like your approachability. I don’t like the way you photograph. I don’t like your melodies. I don’t like the way you write those songs. I don’t like that we have such similarities. I don’t like having this connection with you that only I, could feel. I don’t like the way you make my heart flutters and my tongue tied. I don’t like the way you see me, the way you look at me, the way you… smile at me. I don’t like you being in my thoughts, it will just lead me to another song that I shouldn’t bring out ‘cause it will give them some indications that maybe, just maybe, I do like you. But no, I don’t.

Everybody thinks I don’t like you, even you. Well, I guess it’s safe to say that I don’t. I guess it’s nontoxic to lie ’cause everything’s new to me and I am still contemplating the notion. How can I like someone else when I have this unfathomable battle with my worth, my mind, my heart, myself? I guess it’s much harmless to live in this alternate world of mine.

I don’t like you. Not at all.



AN: Sometimes we’re writing not because we are going through something, sometimes we’re writing just for the sake of writing hahaha.