Note: Found this in an old notebook. I wrote this when I was in college. It’s about a friend who betrayed me. Maybe I should revisit this idea and write another piece on it.
I hope you’ve properly convinced yourself of your innocence.
I hope you’ve properly convinced yourself of your lies.
I hope you’ve properly convinced him of your lies.
I hope you’ve properly convinced everyone of your lies.
You had to lie to me. You thought it was the right thing to do.
Without your lies, you couldn’t trick me to forgive you.
So go on and lie because you can.
Go on and lie because I’ll let you.
I’ll let you become what you truly are.
Continue reading “Why should I look a liar in the eye? “
Note: This is a response to a writing prompt from Writer’s Block by Jason Rekulak. The prompt is “Spark word: clueless”. I don’t know if it’s a short story piece or it’s like half story but half essay. Maybe it’s the start of a fiction piece.
There was a man who was cluelessly driving around Lunta Park. Seeing Rizal’s statue, his eyes widened. When he passed by it again, he expressed the same amazement. He was on his artist date, a concept he read about in Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way. For a few hours each week, he was supposed to do something for his inner artist, and for this week, he choose Luneta Park.
Continue reading “Fiction-ish: Clueless”
How I wish there was a book, an article, or a blog that will recommend stories and poems that will help me whenever I am going through specific problems or will help me learn something. There’s like a list. To learn about empathy, read this novel or this poem. Something like that. Like a list of life lessons, social issues, aspects of human life, and the corresponding novels and poems that tackle those things.
Continue reading “Wishing for a Self-Help Guide for Literature”
Note: I recently reread my 2010 diary, and I found this entry. The entry itself is messy, but some parts are interesting.
I am here at home, and my room is a mess. Crumpled white green tissues piling up beside old sick tapes of pop gaudiness. Trying to discard my tasteless past, but I realized I can’t let go of Mandy Moore, what more the others? The trail of tissues end as the trail of clothes begin. Where the hell is my hamper? All the clothes sleep beside the trash can. The clothes and the trash mingle, and I have a sinking suspicion that I have mistakenly thrown out some clothes thinking that the trash can was the hamper. Papers flying everywhere, like that Harry Potter scene, except that was joyous, or I guess a bit torturous, not knowing where all of those letters came from, knowing they are all yours, and then someone tries to take them away from you.
Continue reading “Descriptions of a Messy Room”
I want to buy online, but one cannot schedule deliveries. What if the delivery guy arrives and no one is home? To remedy this, I thought of a business idea that I would never actually create (haha, as always). So here’s me sending it out to the universe, fully willing for it to be stolen. My idea is: deliveries sitters.
Continue reading “Business Idea: Deliveries Sitter”
Note: from a prompt in The Daily Poet by Kelli Russell Agodon and Martha. Jan. 12 prompt: write a letter to an artist
Dear Julia Cameron,
I did the exercises in your book The Artist’s Way, and they’ve healed me. I don’t know what to say to thank you. I am also a teacher, and I hope that someday I will have a job where I am teaching your creativity course. I want to also make my own creativity course. I want to do something that’s nuanced to Filipino culture. How did you come up with your idea? You said it was just trial and error. Could you elaborate?
Continue reading “Open Fan Letter to Julia Cameron”
Note: A friend gave me a writing prompt that said write about being chased by a killer. This is a work of fiction.
I was running through the night because she was going to kill me. The balut vendor on a bike just passed me. He did not even care that I was running like mad. He even whistled at me and said, “Makakaabot ka pa sa MRT. Hinay-hinay lang, sexy.”
“Tangina mo!” I screamed. “May gagong humahabol sa akin!”
Continue reading “Fiction: Run”