The cold weather makes my bed appear so inviting, it’s tempting to lie down the whole day…

But I’d rather not.

Being in bed inevitably rouses thoughts I do not wish to think about; unpleasant thoughts; thoughts that are not necessarily true but powerfully deceiving; these thoughts know my weaknesses; they know me, every inch of my being. Being away from bed helps me run away from them. Yet it is as if they hide under the covers while I’m gone and take advantage when I’m there.

I’ve been craving for silence most of the time. My senses must have gotten too old much too soon that too much external stimuli tend to overwhelm me that easily. Silence is music to my ears. And if it’s possible, it’s all I long to hear.

The air has gotten colder these days. But my heart and my blood remain warm; if only the weather could freeze them and turn them to ice.



Words Are Not Enough

Lately I am at a loss for words...

Because these words have mostly been translated to strokes, and colors.

I’ve been drawing a lot these days; I draw with my palms sweaty and my mind floating; I draw until my wrist hurts and my shoulders ache; I draw until I get tired of it and until I tell myself that I’d had enough of it, only to find myself filled with creative inspiration when I rest and my uncontrollable impulse to doodle is again resurrected. It is like a mind disease, but it is something I don’t want to be cured of.

I think it is a good thing to be able to create in a different way. Sometimes words just can’t say it all that’s why we are given other media to be able to express ourselves. The other way for me is through drawing.

“It is a waste of time,” someone told me. But how can it be a waste of time if it makes you feel good?



I left my agitated state of hopping from one social media site to the other a few minutes before the clock struck twelve. The house was quiet and it supposed to have magnified the sound of blasting fireworks from the outdoors and trumpets being blown out of merriment. But at that moment it was as if silence rang much louder than all the New Year chaos combined.

I checked the time and only a minute remained of 2013. Tears that won’t fall down welled up in my eyes and it felt like I was having a dramatic end to an awfully dramatic year.

Then midnight came. Finally. The thought of it gave me much relief because finally, I can let go of it all… so that I could open my arms to something new.

We walked to grandpa’s house for the Media Noche. The air smelled of gunpowder and the smoke from fireworks covered the path in haze; it was as if a spell was cast and the past gradually disappeared, never to be seen again.