The Brightness of Possibility

I met a boy yesterday. He set my blood to breathe, produced a thousand fireflies aglow in my gut, a bright ray of light; a shimmer of promise of possibility. He was good, decent, and free. When he spoke it was of up-righteousness; the character of an unwavering gentleman spilling from his lips, kind eyes and that uplifted smile, interested ears and a soul wanting to uncover, to know more, little details of my life that were mostly unsignificant but to him remained interesting nonetheless. It doesn’t help that he’s from Southridge– a new breed of cavalier that stay true to their integrity (most of them anyway). It was an honest certainty that good boys still exist to this day; the kind I always imagined marrying; so decent and so right and so good for me and I to him. It is difficult to stay saintly in this world but it is saintly that I am after– the peace and security that brims fullness of life, of light, contentment and blessedness. I know because it’s what I used to have. In that state hatred couldn’t touch me, nor anger or jealousy, nor even pride. Just love and faith. A God. All one needs to get by.

I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive. I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise. To fly.

That boy brought back hope. He is out there; the man who will be good to me. It might take him a few wrong turns, a number of dead-ends and infinite obstacles but one day all of these will lead to me and I to him. Because of the existence of the boy, I know that surely there must be more out there; enough for me to hold on to one. It’ll be beautiful if it’s the right person and I want nothing short of that. And so here I am, back to the beginning, trying one more time at loving myself and being good so I can be worth it for him too. So please, to anybody listening, be good to people. Give them kind words, caring smiles, gentle touches of concern and care. You could be the one to save them. You could turn their life around.

As a dad once told the whole world to his child, “Settling means giving up. Dont.” Don’t give up on yourself and don’t give up on people. Wouldn’t it be beautiful to have a man who can tell that to your kids; give advice and be the stronghold throughout their life, and of course yours? You are going to find love someday and it will be beautiful and worth the wait. Not yet though. Right now, the universe is pulling strings to make the both of you right for each other, placing struggles to make the two of you better, move with the beauty of growth, wisdom, and experience so when the two of you finally catch a spark that will turn into a fire one day, you will both be strong enough to handle the burns. Most of the time, love is really loving yourself first, patiently waiting and trusting that God won’t fall short of a good man for you. So be good to yourself and to others, and most of all: don’t lose hope. He will come. After all, throughout the history of time, God has never let anybody who believed in His promise down. Your time will come too.

I met a boy yesterday. It was only a short period of time but in that instant, I fell in love with the idea of him but in my man, with the bright future full of nothings but everythings at once and all the best that is yet to come; this time, for me too.

Trust in the process.

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Beat the odds.

Three minutes until three in the morning and I have early class in a few hours but here I am, spending my time on what I do best: inspiration. I decided to shed a new light first and foremost in my external surroundings, aka my room since it’s where I am most and printed cut out inspirational block quotes and words. I need a change within me and plenty of people usually say that it begins inside but trust me, sometimes having an outside influence helps a ton.

Time for new changes, beginning with a no longer clean block of wall.

It looks a bit messy but it is art nonetheless. Every single day before I leave the door for daily life, I’ll be struck by the bright colorful cubes of remarks to remind me of the kind of person and the kind of life I can have. Like a friend said, “work on yourself; time will pass by that before you know it, you’re already there– the exact point you wanted to be months ago but never dreamed of reaching.” It begins with an act. And ultimately I realized that it has to begin with me.

Majority of the days I spend lying in bed, crying myself to sleep or fantasizing about better conditions; situations I actually want to find myself in. Little did I realize that I have an entire other life in my head and the actual one I am living is dissipating into concrete waste. Back when I was bright, I had a strong sense of control where I would stop myself from getting worse– the voice that screamed “don’t do that to yourself”; I guess I was my own guardian angel.

Now I’m my own little devil and I’m struggling back to grace, and then I realize that maybe grace has been reaching out for me all this time. Moments when I feel soft knocks in my soul, somebody asking to come in, to let Him take the wheel of what I’ve become and drive me to safety. I hope the knocker never tires for I’m about to budge soon. Do a full on U-Turn as long as I’m moving. I guess all this time, all I’ve really been doing is wait. But it’s time to move. I’ve been waiting for a push or pull somewhere but nothing has come and I’m exhausted on standing by, the dawn burning out. Where is the sense in waiting if I don’t know what I’m waiting on? Where is the sense in being if I can’t be me in my fullest most authentic potential? It’s time I got there.

You're mostly a pain but I love you.

Yesterday morning I wrote the words “Beat the odds” on the palm of my hands. Beat the odds. Three short, simple but powerful words that affects my core. When I feel like giving up and losing hope, when I want to lash out and scream at people I hate, people who have it better than me, people who are blessed to the point that I don’t feel blessed anymore. God, I used to feel like the most blessed person in the world. What happened to that? When I feel stupid and insecure because people put me down, stereotype me before getting to know me so I don’t even get a chance, no kind of love and I just want to crash and burn, crash and burn because they make me think I deserve it, I’ll say it out loud: Beat the odds. It is more than its self– it’s an entire battle cry. A chance, a shot that rises to the sky when you thought all hope was lost: Beat the odds. To be that one in a million; to stand upright even when all of me buckles under the load of resentment: Beat the odds. To do my best when I am certain the result won’t change: Beat the odds. To not give in to all the hatred that fills my brain, the evil eye that skims upon perfection, the irritation that bubbles up at all I lack: Beat the odds. 

Prepare your armor, keep your head sane and your heart closer–it is a fight for freedom already on the losing side but here we go again: You will beat the odds.

You’re like a firecracker. You look plain on the outside, but your insides are ready to burst into flames, so much magic and wonder if only you’d ignite.

I think about falling in love. With a boy so beautiful and mysterious I’d get the shivers trying to uncover him, wondering him at nightfall unable to sleep, thinking about all that runs through his mind. I want to memorize his favorite song from his favorite band, know if he’s closer to his mother or his father, if he likes school or thinks it’s a complete waste of time, what he thinks of God and going to mass, if he’s the kind of guy who texts or calls, if he snores when he sleeps– all he is when he thinks nobody’s watching. I want to know his favorite game and soccer team (I will deny he’s a basketball lover), his dream car and the kind of girl he always imagined being with, his dreams for this life and others.

I wonder about the boy I’m going to end up falling in love with. If he wonders how I look, the treasures hidden deep behind my protective soul, the prayers I sometimes forget to whisper before I go to bed, my first thoughts in the morning when my eyes awake from slumber, the books I enjoy reading and the movies I enjoy crying to just because it makes me feel human. I wonder if he thinks about me, about all I am and all I could be in the future; about all the kind of love we are going to make, and if he knows that we’re going to create a love unlike a time bomb but everlasting, so beautiful and sweet and deep it’ll move with you forever.

I wonder about love between a beautiful boy and a hidden girl, whether it’ll come true and last long enough for an entire novel to be written, strong enough for songs to be sung and music to be played, and fought enough so it’ll last till death does them part. I wonder about the kind of love that springs so powerful, the words meant of a single promise, a single vow with the winds and the Heavens as witness, the birds and the leaves singing in chorus: “No matter what happens, I will take care of you. No matter what happens, I will be here for you. No matter what you do, I’m not leaving. Even if you grow fat and unbearable to look at, I will stay. Grow white hairs and huge pimples and become the ugliest girl in the world, I will hold your hand for the whole world to see that you are mine. Be a pain in the ass most times and thrash out on me during your monthly hormonal days, I will hang on tight until the morning. I love you in spite of the things you do and not because for our love is inconsequential. Our love is real.” I hope to make myself worth it for this boy and this kind of love. Please come, please come. 

Ignite your bones

The Skyway Lights

I swam today like I said I would. In that pool, nothing could reach me. All that was on my mind was swim or die, swim or die, because when you’re under, all you’ve got is to fight for your life. Otherwise you drown. And there was light at the end, a square that marked it, and all I had to tell myself was “just reach for that little dark square. come on, you see it. you’re almost there. resist yourself and reach.” I realized life contains a lot of self-resistance and self-restrictions. If you want to get somewhere, you can’t give in to yourself all the time because your natural instinct is to satisfy what you think you need. You have to learn how to say no to your own self if you want to transcend.

I can’t stop listening to Fix You by Coldplay. It’s such a beautiful and heartbreaking song; the lyrics and the music at the bridge so wrenching I need to hear it over and over again. It makes me feel human, so graceful, so weightless I could spread my arms out wide like a ballerina and fly off the ground.

That’s all I want to be: weightless. I don’t want to tread heavily anymore. I want to press lightly, like I barely leave a mark. As light as a spirit. As free as a bird. This body cannot hold me down.

I am beautiful too!

 “See I just want you to know that you deserve the best

You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful
Yeah and I want you to know                                               You’re far from the usual, far from the usual”

– Lil Wayne, “How to Love”

I’m going to be painfully honest here, not to anybody out there who stumbles across this blog and reads this particular post but to myself. I can’t deny this anymore: I do not feel beautiful. I think it’s particularly hard being a woman because there are the pressures of society that every woman tries to fit in– the idea that women should be beautiful, and graceful, sexy, and alluring that guys have to fall over their feet when she passes by. She’s supposed to exceed a kind of elegance that’s mesmerizing and attractive to the masculine character, and at the same time she has to be strong and confident. There is no helplessness now; no longer damsels in distress on our age and time. But here I am left with the things I have been given: a body that’s bulging out in all sorts of places, fingers too short and stubby for my liking, chicken legs like sausages and bucked knees I can stand on the account that I wear jeans anyway to cover them up, small chubby feet with a massive bunyon to go, and a double chin that’s started to form since I’ve gained weight. I have messy hair on most days, pimples that ascend from stress and spurs of hormones, and a kind of slow awkwardness when I move; far from the kind of motion men seem to be drawn towards. Don’t get me wrong: I used to feel pretty. When I was younger, I had people tell me “you’re so pretty,” and I had a swimming teacher say “you should join the Ms. Philippines contest,” and then there were the occasional foolish boys who had crushes on me, the boy in the park who asked if I was a model, and the European men who hit on me like I was the last woman on Earth. I still feel pretty some days, when I dress up in something loose enough to hide the things I don’t want particularly revealed, but as a woman I want to say that there will be times when I want to wear a dress or a skirt or shorts, wear sleeveless tops and look good in them, and wear slippers that accentuate my bare feet. Here’s something I wish to point out that most men do not seem to understand: women will always want to feel beautiful. It’s the epitome of being a woman: beauty. There are so many beautiful and slim women out there and there will always be days and moments when I feel embarrassed for myself– because I’m not like them, and I can never be. I will never have pretty legs for one thing; it was something I was born with and can never replace. My fingers won’t magically grown unstubby and unshort because these are my dad’s, unless I have them surgically prolonged which I would never result to. To consider surgery just to feel beautiful is wrong in so many ways and I do not wish to go down that road. I want to work on myself and feel beautiful on my own.

I have always wondered why I have never got a guy to be particularly attracted in me, enough that he’d think it’d be worth it if he got to know me and asked me out. I still wonder if I will ever get a guy to want me for me– flaws and all. I have always thought that beauty was a light within you; like a trait that shines through your personality that draws attention. It’s nothing really external; it’s more of in the way you move– a kind of mystery to uncover in a person’s actions and behavior. But again here I am: awkward and stumbling and ungraceful. And I have to remind myself: nobody’s going to love me if I’m not going to love me. I have to learn to love myself, first and foremost, with everything I am and everything I can still be. I think the most heartbreaking thing I am doing to myself is that I won’t even give myself a chance. Here I am a little bit over the weight I should be and I’m still eating and eating without a little effort on exercise or reducing my take in. I am not taking care of myself and being good to myself like I should be. The sad thing is that even I won’t want me enough to work on me and I have to firmly tell myself that this has to stop. I will have to do a little more work than others on being beautiful but I think that’s something beautiful in itself: effort. Like how you can only appreciate it more when you’ve been through the exact opposite of what you’ve achieved. It makes you grow and it makes you better and that’s the thing I am always looking forward to every day; the reason why I haven’t given up hope. I am still in change. I have modifications to go through but I am not yet done; I have ultimately many more things to adjust and revise on myself. I am going to love myself so much that I am going to give myself second chances, every single day I fail or feel like giving up, I am going to stand my ground and tell myself to try again because I AM WORTH IT. I am a beautiful human being in the making and I hope that one day, somebody else will fall head over heels with me and realize it too. I will aspire to inspire and admire: “I can’t be as beautiful as you. But I can be as beautiful as me.” 

Here is my yes to change and to effort and to struggle because like a mother experiencing the agony and the shooting pain for hours upon the delivery of a baby and the tedious months of care before that, a new life is born. Surely I am on my way.

I really outdid myself this time.

It is not the end. It matters how you finish. Are you going to finish strong?“- Nick Vujicic, with no arms or legs

Throughout my life, I have always had this strong sense of conscience– my inner locus of control aware and telling if I ever lost my way. Every time I was thinking of doing things I wasn’t suppose to do like for instance, watching TV instead of studying for the next day, the inner voice would soon appear and fling guilt across my face, saying “Don’t do that, Lex. You have to be good to yourself.” I am struggling to get that back.

I just emailed the dean of my school about my intent of retaking a financial test because guess what, I flipping failed. I had too much fun, neglected my studies and travelled across Europe that I ignored that one subject whose teacher unfortunately really fails students. The bright side is, I’m not the only one who failed. Almost half the class did and they went to that class more than I. It doesn’t make it any better, though. It shouldn’t. And the JTA rule that stands is this: fail one, credit none. In other words, if I don’t get the second chance, none of my subjects abroad will push through and it’ll be like starting over again. Like, all that I’ve put in during that semester abroad was washed away, leaving a blank sheet ready for new hardships, marks, learnings, and failings. Add to that the fact that I am not graduating this year along with my fellow batchmates, having to stay behind another entire year for two subjects I did not anticipate. And then there’s the fact that I am totally failing economics now to the point where there is no hope and I have stopped going to class, and even though the teacher fails two-thirds of his class, I feel so bad because I am not usually part of that. I should be part of that one-third who passes. I should be above average.

God, I am so unsettled. I am just standing here, telling myself okay, this time I’m really going to study now. I’m going to do it. And then I find other things to do, matters that delay, and I end up sulking during nightfall when I realize that I failed myself again, yet another day I have wasted doing nothing good for myself. I have to stop this and I am, and there is sense in all of this. I know all these only means I have more opportunities to grow and expand myself and become– more chances for doing the things in college I was truly meant to do; be more open, find more meaning, and be good, so good. I never pictured myself graduating with honors but now that is the vision I hold, the vision I owe to at least myself and my parents who are doing a good deal investing in me, and because of all these failures, of being held back, of all the things I let slip by because of my own stubbornness, stupidity, and laziness, I am going to make sure I end well. I am going to finish strong and proud with my head held high, and I am going to get up that stage and receive honors that will make everybody proud and shock them out of their asses. I am going to turn things around and go for all that is good; reach higher and higher every day and keep trying.

There is that saying: once you’ve hit bottom, you can only go up.

Here’s to outdoing myself once more.