drunken notes

hi. here are 3 and a half notes (out of a hundred) i've written on my phone since last may. i've compiled them in one post because i feel like they are all unfinished (i write a lot when i'm drunk and then pass out lol). enjoy. 

//

i've lost count on how many times i went home drunk, almost stumbling, telling myself that it would be the last time i'd be doing this to myself. 

i'd be half drunk at 3am, shivering from the cold air, but still would walk from the tricycle stand 45 minutes away from home. i walk to feel my heart beating in my chest loudly, to feel the sweat dripping on my back. to feel my knees get weak as i near home, to feel the air blowing in my face. to feel tired.

to feel anything other than my sadness. 

to prove myself that i am still capable of feeling other things. to prove myself that this, what i'm feeling, is not breaking me.  

//

i don't how people do it, and i'm afraid to ask. if i knew how, tried, and failed, it would only get me disappointed with myself. 

i wish i knew how to always put myself first. to not come running to people when they need me, even when i have zero sleep. to not listen to a friend ramble on about his love life while i am breaking down to pieces at the same time. 

i wish i knew how to take back the love i give to undeserving people. i wish i knew how to see if they are undeserving. i wish i stop telling myself that no one is undeserving of love. i wish i knew how to get angry at people for breaking me when all i've given is my best. 

i wish i knew how to care for myself as much as i do for other people. i wish i knew how to live a life where i am my own's caretaker. where i am the person who is most in love with myself. 

//

i've always wondered how it would be like to not be me. 

i've always wondered how it would be like to not have people think you can handle things better. to not have people think that you are the stronger person. 

i've always wondered how it would be like to be put first. to not be the second consideration. 

i've always wondered how it would be like to not be expected to always be the bigger person. to not be the person to always to understand. 

i've always wondered how it would feel like to not be tired of being me.

//
i've been focusing a lot on the things that me happy, but it still sometimes doesn't feel enough. 

leave a comment


my body has been touched too much by too many men... when i didn't want them to. 

by strangers, by acquaintances, even by a friend. 

a man i used to call my best friend shoved his tongue down my throat while i was sleeping. i resisted. instead of stopping, he put his face on my breasts. i resisted even more. he stopped and joked about it. i cried. i stopped being friends with him. 

i used to study in Manila. the buses were always full so i had to stand up through the trip most of the time. one time, the bus was so full, everyone was standing too close to each other. the driver suddenly hit the brake and the man that was sitting behind me squeezed my bottoms. it was hot and i was tired and i got dizzy with anger, so i slapped him. he got off the bus. a few people cheered, but i still felt defeated. 

it was new year's eve. my sister and i were on our way home from a family party. my sister was already sleeping. besides us, there was only one passenger, a man so drunk he can barely sit up straight. i resisted looking at him but he kept staring. he struggled unzipping his shorts, but once he did, he started touching himself while staring at me. 

i was in a place i thought i was safe. i was with at least 10 friends. a stranger groped both of my breasts and i cried and cried and cried for two whole days. i couldn't kiss someone without thinking of him. i couldn't let anyone touch me without remembering what his touch felt like. 

i cannot count on both my fingers and toes how many times i've received inappropriate jokes and remarks about my body. jokes on how big my boobs are. remarks on how i look like i might be good at sex. how many times i've been asked how men i've already slept with. i've stopped counting on how many times men stare at my boobs while i talk to them. 

i cannot count how many times i've been whistled at like a dog. i cannot count how many times i've come across a man on a street who when comes close to me, whispers in my ear. 

i've been touched by too many men, and i haven't slept with one yet. i've been touched by too many men, when i didn't want to. 

i still don't like having a man's arm around my shoulder. i still wince when a friend accidentally touches my leg. i heart skips a beat when men i don't trust yet holds my arm. 

i am a strong woman, i know that, but when you've been touched by too many men when you pleaded them not to, i get crippled by fear too. 

leave a comment

when i started writing this, it was kind of a love letter. i haven't written anything in here for months, and this person came and told me i can do it again. i started believing in myself because i finally had someone cheering me on. i thought to myself, "let me dedicate the first one to him when i'm already in love with him." 

i was not looking for anything, for someone. if you ask everyone i know, they'd say i'm a floatee. always around, always the thirdwheel, always fun, always on the go. 

and then, you came. the biggest a-hole i've ever met. the least person i thought i'd entertain. you seem sad, so i gave it a chance. i know how it feels to be drowning even when you can swim. i know how heavy it feels to be carrying everyone's burdens. i know what it's like to not have someone listen and understand. i know. 

it was nothing at first. i thought nothing of it. then you started opening up. your dreams, your failures, your regrets. you have no second thoughts telling me your beliefs. you guessed my favorite color right. you always say, "you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable" before you ask me things. you told me i understood you like nobody else, and i didn't understand what you meant, but i thought, wow, i want to keep listening to you... and i did. 

we'd argue over politics, and unlike people who wait for me to finish talking so they can talk, you do listen. we shared our thoughts about religion. we talked about our dreams of traveling around the world and trying out new things along the way. they say you are a difficult person to argue with because you don't listen, but it was different with me. you always listen. i'd talk, you'd stare, and we'd smile. it was easy. it seemed easy. 

i don't open up to a lot of people. i don't let words stumble out of my mouth and into strangers' ears. i am always wary of who is listening. it's shocking, how you made me let you in into my mind. i shared my what ifs, my buts, my what could've beens. i watched you listened, and i finally understood what you meant when you said i was the only person who can understand you. there you are, standing in front me, telling me i can do anything, and i thought, "this person understands me." 

i started this as a love letter and said i'd publish it when i'm already in love, but now i'm ending it for healing. this is unfinished, but i'm publishing it anyway, because this is the end. 
anger is an alien feeling to me, but i've been accustomed to it these past two weeks. i hate it. it's been crawling into my skin, sinking its teeth into me, and i hate it. it's turning me into someone i don't know. i am tired of it, and i am letting it go. i'm letting it all go. 

leave a comment