Selflessness = Rightfulness = Happiness

There is, indeed, great joy in being selfless and in doing so, one is also doing what is right even without the expense of being lonely. Recently, I found out that being selfless and doing what is right happens simultaneously.

In the homily of a particular mass I attended, the father was talking about fighting off devils in our lives (the gospel that day was from Mark 3: 22-30.) From here, he reminded everyone that this is not an easy battle yet encouraged, “Don’t ever get tired of doing what is right kahit ang katumbas nito ay kalungkutan habambuhay (even if it means you would lose your happiness for life).” In this way, we will be able to glorify and honor GOD and we will be stronger in fighting our demons.

When he said these words, I thought that doing what is right also coincides with being selfless, because while we do what is right we tend to lose ourselves and put others’ welfare before ours. We do not focus on what will benefit us but we think more of what can be more important for other people’s sake. As we become selfless we become more relaxed in the idea of not getting or doing what we want and it would be easier for us to be happy and contented with the small things we receive even if they are not what we hope for. And before we knew it, we are already enjoying doing the things we initially do not like to do and those we thought are a burden to us. Even if it is an instance such as spending so much time at work without getting paid, giving extra efforts when our workmates do not but we and they get the same pay or seeing a wallet containing a shimmering bill of five hundred bucks lying on the street while we’re broke but we decided to give it back to its owner, we realize how cool and wonderful it is to do something not for instant gratification, self-seeking glory or any hidden and impure agenda but because it is the right way to do it.

Eventually, we would acknowledge that one intangible fact that if we focus not on what we can get if we do the right thing but on the peaceful outcome it renders, it will pay off more than we imagine. Incidentally, we would soon recognize that when we stop comparing what we have with what other people have we will be more content and satisfied. We would realize that when we do things and think of them more as an act of service and less to get self-exaltation, we will be fulfilled and become more gracious, grateful and joyful.

In doing what is right, we tend to become selfless and vice versa. Hence, in doing both, we become less materialistic, more satisfied and most at peace. How can we not be happy if we are at peace knowing that we did what is right and what is selfless?





I’m running out of words,

For the words I write, the words I speak

Are all about love — the kind of love that breaks a heart.

The kind of love a girl feels for a guy or the other way around.

But that kind of love is terrible most of the time

And it struck me that the kind of words I say are terrible and certainly don’t matter.

They keep on repeating on every poet’s mouth that they suffocate the mind of a reader.


I wish I could write — for I already forgot how to write — about life;

Its ups and downs;

Its winding road and the lessons I learn in each step I take.


About sea,

The dives I was scared to take but I took anyway

And though landed with hurting back, butt, head or limb,

I still managed to make a good one and another.


About the places I went to,

And the charm each one has unfolded to me;

The awe in every new experience,

The ‘ahh’ in every relaxing treat I get.

I traveled a lot, but I want to travel more.

Yet, in every travel, I have yet to use

All the words I know to explain what it felt.


I want to write about my dreams,

The strange ones and the ones that looked more like stories created by my imagination;

How some are scary and heart-pumping,

While many are surreal and enticing

And others — even those which I love — are heartbreaking.


I want to write about different people,

For truly, they’re part of this dream I have —

Not the as-I-go-to-sleep dream —

But the other one composed of wishes and aim.

I want to write about them and their stories

Because I know theirs are far more important

Than infatuation or lust or third-party craps.


For it’s okay to write about girl-boy love and heartbreak

But then there are far more important kinds of love that matter:

Love that can be seen when a doctor is trying earnestly to revive his patient, even without certainty of reliving,

Love that radiates from a friend in being a good listener,

Love that holds a family together,

Love that fights for the country and its countrymen,

Love that a Master has for His lowly servants.


Words struck deep like a knife and I forgot

How to use them in a way that will strike each reader,

Or in a slam poet’s case, each listener.


I’m running out of words and I couldn’t use them

To, somehow, change a single person’s life.


I’m running out of words and I couldn’t use them

To enlighten a human being about the beauty of this seemingly inhumane world.


I’m running out of words I haven’t tried using them at all.


[ October 04, 2015 ]


A Song called ‘Scream’

It’s haunting me,

Yet again.


I’ve nowhere to run,

I’ve no one to ask,

‘Save me, pray.’


Distinct sound,


It hurts;

Such cry so profound,

‘You lose,’

It says.


Darkness prowls,

Night eats and drinks,

Wind gusts but no breach,

‘Where am I?’

To myself,

Sound humming,

Yet again.


The wind sings,

Chimes made

From distant strings;

Laughs drumming,

Echoes, they’re mocking,

My body swings

Out of torment.


Tears flow,

I’m running,

Towards a room,

Called eighteen,

The door creaks,

My mind unlit,

A loud crash!

The walls bleed,

My hands, my hands,

They tremble;

There I see,

What’s it to be.


Favorite Moment When I Was a Kid # 1

When I was in grade something, I used to ride a jeep going to our school and, as most of the students are, I always liked to ride the shotgun – the seat beside the driver.

One morning, my mom gave me a two-piece KitKat. I love KitKat. It’s not my favorite chocolate but when you’re a kid and they gave you a chocolate you will really feel blessed – although I’m pretty sure that most kids at that age still wouldn’t know what ‘blessed’ means – and as a kid, a week seems a long time so I thought back then that I haven’t eaten KitKat in a long time.

Then, I rode a jeepney going to school and sat at my favorite spot. I didn’t know I forgot to bring my money with me until it was too late. I’m already near our school and it will take me another hour to go back to our house and back again to my school. I remembered I have my precious KitKat with me and I thought, I cannot just go down without paying and I don’t wanna risk fleeing. So, before I got off, I told the driver, “Sir would you mind if I pay you with my KitKat? I forgot my money and this is all I have.” Truth is, I was actually on the verge of crying because I haven’t eaten KitKat for a long time and I wanted to savor it during our recess.

The driver grinned at me and said, “Off you go and take your chocolate with you. You can pay me later.” He smiled as I said, thank you and sorry. It was a relief that he let me off – with my precious KitKat. My point is, when I was a kid, I vowed to myself to be honest, not because I’m a Christian and all that because the truth is I was not a religious kid, but because of the fact that honesty brings you peace. Honesty creates trust. It somehow forms the well-being of a person. Being honest made me feel like I don’t have to hide anything. It helped me out even in the small matters. I never even stole a single coin from my parents’ bag or pocket or wherever they put their money. I guess that’s the reason why I became a straightforward and honest b***h. But I don’t care.

In truth, the moment I decided to lie by hiding the truth, I became paranoid. It wasn’t a good feeling until I let it all out. And I told myself I will never do it again. Chances are when you are an honest person, people will hate you, mock you, despise you. But if you lie to them and they find out about it, they will still treat you the same way – in addition to self-deprivation of truth and peace.

I know most of you hate me now because of the truth that I spoke, the truth that clashes with what you know and what you see. However, if you were in my shoes and hear things spoken about a thing or a person the goodness that others think they see in that particular thing or person and it just doesn’t coincide with the truth that you saw, you would feel exactly the same way I did.

This is where close-mindedness comes in. Many of us only want to hear what they want to hear. As that happens, people tend to disregard the fault of their loved ones and bury it instead of helping that person to confess it and be renewed. I daresay, we cannot solve a problem just by setting it aside and let it steam without really doing anything at all to prevent the steam from spreading and cause more damage. We tend to give a person another chance without even helping that person to make good use of that chance. And that person – knowing that he is well-loved and well-pampered and he doesn’t need any disciplinary action – would tend to forget the fault that he or she had and along with it the lesson that he or she should’ve learned by then.

Somebody told me if a person commits a crime and one is a witness and that witness tends to shut his voice and pretends he didn’t see or notice anything is a criminal himself for hiding the truth. He himself is an accomplice of the criminal.

I may have made a mistake for letting a problem goes on for too long and I got knocked off my head really hard before realizing I should say what I need to say but eventually I spoke up. Ironically, when I did, people hated me. Sometimes, I would want to ask them, which part do you hate? Me, speaking the truth or the fact that your loved one committed the crime?

A Gift on Your Birthday. (A Spoken Poetry)

If it’s only me, I could say in thousand ways that I love you so much.

I could choose to do unimaginable things just to keep us in touch,

For you are in every song I hear; you are in every poem I write.

You are in every love quotes and stories I read and fantasize.

You are in every romantic movie I watch.


Every day, I miss how your hand locks with mine

While we watch all those movies until the very last credit line.

My forehead skin aches for your sweet kisses every night

As our frames and limbs intertwine.

Up to now, I am still amazed at how my frail body and your fleshy one fit just right.


However, the sunny parts of love stories have to come and pass;

Once in a while, happy endings are not meant to forever last.

We tried to keep our music playing, I kept wishing upon shooting stars.

And kept begging to GOD to give it another try, to give us another chance.

But how can good harmony be played from broken strings of two broken hearts?


My love, you chose to break my heart because you want to be better.

It was hard for me to accept that we cannot be together.

Our love is failing and we are falling apart.

Even if we sacrificed a lot to have gone this far,

It wasn’t enough to keep us intact.


And as far as I can tell, I’m not the one in your heart anymore.

I do not hunt your mind every day like before.

You no longer light up my phone every single night;

I am no longer the one you want to hug so tight.

Our constant conversations are lost and gone;

I am left behind seeing you have moved on.


I’m enclosed with this walls preventing me from being with you again.

I’m breaking my own heart to keep myself hidden from you,

But it’s going to be a lose-lose situation if I choose not to.

I’d rather let you live and keep you being alive,

Than choosing to keep in touch and we will hurt each other as much.


I want to be with you and kiss you in both sunny and stormy days.

I want to cuddle with you until the very last movie on our watch list.

I want to watch and criticize with you every recital and every concert you take me to.

I want to star gaze and have long and unending pillow talks with you under a blue moon.

I want to dance with you with our favorite songs playing on.

I want to write and play music with you like we used to do.


I tried holding on even on simple things like being friends,

But the harder I close my grip, the easier my fingers slip;

I’m counting every finger I used to hold on to this magic we created.

It’s funny because I must say, for once, I’ve gotten to believe in magic;

But there are always greater things magic cannot break.

I’m down to my last finger, one last chance to say:


This is it. I love you and I thank you for everything. Alas, this is the end.


N: I wrote this in June last year, 2016. I lost my hard drive November of the same year. I only saved a few of my original spoken and ‘unspoken’ poetry pieces. This is one of them. Thanks to my phone.

I wrote this a few weeks before ‘his’ birthday. I was supposed to perform this on stage and or put it online but I lost my nerve. With everything that came up after, I decided to move this to trash. Yet, as I read and recite this piece again and again, I realized it was then a premonition or something.

Nevertheless, I’m deeply heartbroken at the loss of my hard drive (which was converted to an external device, FYI) and thought that the person who took it might have stumbled upon my literary and music pieces. Mahirap na. It would be plagiarism on that person’s part and fiasco on mine. I wrote this with my heart and I couldn’t afford some thieving monkey getting the credit.



Another Bite of Reality

I went inside a room where people from our community gathered for a reason I was yet to know. Two different groups were even practicing their cheer dance and one of them was even screaming, “B!” I have no idea what it meant. Just Beeeeeeeee.

Then I saw some people lying on the floor chatting, sleeping and taking a rest with one another. I saw him on the far edge of a bed I was next to.

At first, I couldn’t recognize who he was lying next to. I looked around and saw his friend who, in real life, used to carry a pink Jansport bag and has a hair she loves to dye.

As I come to my senses, I looked back at him, realizing what her presence meant. Lo and behold, the hair-dyer girl’s friend was lying beside him. I suddenly had the urge to come up to him and slap him. Instead, I muster all the patience and courage I had and walked up to him asking straight, “Are you and her -” pertaining to the girl beside her “-already together?” He grinned proudly and said, “Yes.”

I was on the verge of crying. I looked at the girl who was busy chatting with another person beside her and saw that she was wearing a gold band around one of her fingers. I looked back at him and asked, “Why? Why is it that when it was me you were with, you said it’s not yet the right time? [But after just three months of saying things like you still loved me] Why is it that when it was her, it was okay with you even if you broke a lot of rules?”

He just grinned triumphantly that turned into a faint laugh. He made me realize what it all meant. I was not a trophy girlfriend like the one who he is with now. I was not worth fighting for. The other girl was more beautiful and presentable and more dependent on him than I am.

I woke up.

In the wee hours of the morning, I woke up from a dreadful dream I consider as a reality. In my dream, I finally got the answer from the one thing I wanted to ask from him. And I felt more dreadful than ever. But I couldn’t erase the fact that the past is still haunting me.

At least, in my dream, he has the guts to face me and tell the truth.

“Humanap ka ng pangit at ibigin mong tunay.” (Find an ugly person and love him truly.)

A rapper once said, “Humanap ka ng pangit at ibigin mong tunay (Find an ugly person and love that person truly).” The idea was because he thought that ugly people love truer than the ones with good looks.

I met you. I loved you. I trusted you. I adored you.

You broke my heart.

Conclusion: Even the ugly ones (some of them) like you are not trustworthy.  You’re just ugly inside out and I attest to that. You are the ugliest person I have ever met and I am not even talking about looks here.


Tula No. Something Something

Kung dati ay kinikilig ako sa tuwing nakakarinig ako ng love song,

Ngayon ay madali akong mainis

Oo, bitter ako, pero hindi maikakailang nasasaktan rin kasi ako.


Ang sakit-sakit.

Ang sakit kayang maiwan ng taong mahal mo.

Ang sakit kayang malamang pinapaasa ka lang niya na babalik pa siya sa iyo.

Ang sakit malamang may iba na siya habang naghihintay ka.

Habang hinihintay mo siyang bumalik sa’yo.

Dahil iyon ang sinabi niya,

“Babalik ako.”

Ang sakit ring marinig sa ibang tao na ang laki mong tanga,

Na kasalanan mo pa ang lahat ng nangyayari sa’yo.

Ang sakit malamang kasama niyang naglaho ang mga akala mong kaibigan mo.

Ang sakit masisi sa isang bagay na hindi mo naman ginawa.

Ang sakit masising ikaw ang idinidiin sa kasalanang siya ang nag-umpisa.

Ang sakit maramdamang hindi pantay ang pagtingin ng mundo sa mga taong nasasaktan at naiiwan.

Ang sakit madamang ako na nga ang nasaktan, ako pa ang may kasalanan.


Kaya hindi niyo ako masisisi kung hindi ko nais marinig ang mga kantang iyan.

Lalo na siguro ‘yung kay Ed Sheeran.


Oo, bitter ako, dahil hindi ko kinakailang nasasaktan ako.

Nadudurog ang aking puso, natutunaw ang aking isipan, nanghihina ang aking katawan.

Sa tuwing maririnig ko ang mga naglipanang kundiman.


My (less than) 10-minute poem for the day. Isinulat ko nga pala habang nagpapatugtog sila ng Ed Sheeran song sa “Benshoppe.”



A February Thought

Disclaimer: The day (or night) this thought was processed is uncertain – hence, the title. Do not assume otherwise.

So, I’m back in my little cocoon, just processing ideas and such. Then my mind stumbled upon a memory that made me certain about one thing. In the middle of the time when I and a friend parted ways, it suddenly occurred to me that I have a mistake that caused the demise of our friendship in the long run. At that moment, it was made clear to me that between the two of us – me and my old friend – I was the one who lost hope first.

I was deeply hurt that something unbearable happened between the two of us. And that awful pain struck me so hard that I forgot to take care of what was left. In all fairness to that person, the person tried such best to revive the dying relationship we had. During those times, it didn’t matter to me.

I was a selfish person to begin with – only caring about myself and what I feel. Aside from that, I was a pessimist, I tend to see only the bad things that are happening and anticipate what is worse and just go with it. I was a prideful person, too – trying hard to stay in my own shell when someone hurt me so bad and lock myself away from that someone. Above all, I lost hope – there were countless opportunities but the hurt continues to obstruct my eyes in seeing that there is, indeed, hope.

I was the first to lose hope. Admitting it was the even more hurtful part. Subconsciously, I didn’t want to admit that I took part in the downfall of our relationship. Just like what I said, I am truly prideful.

So, recently, it dawned on me that I let those opportunities slip from hand because I was busy noticing the plug from eyes and the hurt from my heart. I was busy growing a tree full of resentment and bitterness in my backyard and the fruits of this tree came abundantly in all seasons that it was already impossible to clean my on off of them.

Slowly and bitterly, the friendship died. It died in vain. All the memories died with it, too. In the past year, I continuously put the blame on the other person not realizing that I was the first one who gave the friendship up. Countless times I asked myself, “Why do I feel so bad?” Then, sure enough, as much as I haven’t forgiven that person, I haven’t forgiven myself, too. Likewise, I am uncertain if that person has already forgiven me for giving up first and putting all the blame on that person.

In the end, I learned to humble myself and accept the fact that I did something wrong, too. That no matter how grave that person’s error is, it didn’t mean that I have no fault myself. Not only was I liable for the destruction of our once-colorful friendship, but I was the one who terminated it first. As if, the person didn’t do any good. Truth is, that person is supposedly one of the best friends I ever had. That person loved me for who I was – selfish, pessimist, prideful and hopeless.

After bearing my mistake, I learned to ask forgiveness from myself. Then, of course, I forgave myself because I thought I might have put the burden to myself too much. I asked forgiveness from myself, too, because I knew I was liable for the ache I feel for losing a precious person. For a long while, I couldn’t see any hope to forgive that person for hurting me. However, due to this realization, it became easier to me to accept what happened to our friendship. Consequently, I’m learning to forgive that person as well – bit by bit.

We may not be able to get back what we have lost – after all, we’re already on our separate ways and there is a big possibility that our paths might not cross again – but the lesson I learned due to our partings gave me a notion that I should take care of few the friendships I still have with the few friends left with me. They’re the only ones I’ve got and I have learned the hard way not to take them for granted. In the same way, this lesson is something I can take as I build more friendships in the future.