Tag Archives: depression

When the Bow Breaks

This eerie feeling is so undeniable. I can now feel the bumper hitting my side. I’m getting this creepy chill as I am fully aware of the reality that I’m currently in motion, feeling my body flying momentarily in the air, seeing the lights drawing distance. I am so caught in the momentum as I am now anticipating my hurtful crash.

Then finally, the gravity pulls me down hard, hitting the ground with all my weight, throwing all my multiple gypsy neck accessories off my body, scattering all tiny beads and apparels off in every direction, and feeling some bones cracking from the inside and tissues ripping from the outside. I am so aware of how rough the road is as I rub and shovel myself off against the asphalt, and tear some skin off especially on my bony corner parts.

Then, at last, I have come to a halt.

There is silence. I cannot hear anything. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I can do nothing. I cannot even think. My thoughts just escaped ten seconds ago; and now, it’s null. It’s blank. It’s void. There is nothing at all.

I guess that’s it. That is all it. That is just how it goes.

I’m dead.

I just died.

I cannot believe that I’m all right here, standing still, watching my own cold body lying on the ground. This part of me is what I have not prepared for.

Duh, as if like it happens everyday!

Dead bodies are not what we get to see everyday, as to coffins are not one of those domestic decorations we see in regular houses on regular occasions.

It’s not like a lousy bump on the knee as we stupidly walk over a table; or, flipping a leg over as we pay less attention that the staircase has one more step, which we forget to step on.

The brains are the body as the emotions are the soul. It takes authenticity to see the soul through the eyes. Silence is therapeutic as it tames the unquiet mind yet, also deadly as it kills the tormented heart.

Big drops of rain keep pelting on my cold, lifeless, icy face as the darkened sky mercilessly drown me. I drown myself in, stirring it all in, struggling for it, hoping that I could bring myself back to life; but, guess what? I never did.

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Posted by on October 9, 2017 in The Avenue


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Its Loneliest Tick

Its Loneliest Tick

“There is loneliness in this world, so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of the clock.” — Charles Bukowski

It’s the intangible sensation that creeps beneath your skin, surfacing out, thrilling your nerves with unbearable chill.  It’s the undefined emotion that sculls your fear through the waves of your mind.  It’s the unsolicited presentiment that rooms into your thought, clearing all your mind’s furniture of sanity.  It’s that moment when hope abandons you, as fear torments you.

It’s dark.  Night-dark.  Casket-dark.  Darkest dark your vision could ever recognize.  It fuels the forever restless engine, sitting, rusting down the pit of the unmapped space of your heart.  It unlocks your forced-lock fear like vampires disturbed and awakened from their deep sleep down the deepest part of the dungeon by a single drop of fresh blood.  It skulls into your mind picture after picture of fangs, claws and misshapened shadows.  It shrinks your heart into an impossible fold where you cringe yourself in fear and sorrow.  You cower yourself exceedingly small as you keep watching over crawlies underneath your bed.  It feeds from your loneliest memory of the past.

It ticks, and it never stops.

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Posted by on March 24, 2017 in The Avenue


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The hissing of the crickets.  The whooshing of the leaves.  The light from the post.  The damp street.  The cold night air.  The whole essence of being there.

They all never matter now.  Being down here in expense of losing the world just never pays a fair shot.  There’s never a fair shot.  One time or another, you just have to come out in clean slate.  One time or another, you just have to make a choice for this world is one big phenomenon, same goes to life.  You can’t stay indifferent forever.

Despite the world, alone is still the most familiar word.  It just never runs out of room.  It gathers everyone in yet, it doesn’t help one feel better.  It just feeds one’s heart with sorrow and pain  until everything crashes down leaving one’s self helpless and desperate.  It breaks one’s every wall, destroys one’s every dream, corrupts one’s very own sanity as it continuously settles depression in the heart.  Worse is, most of the time, it’s contributed by those who hang around.

Fuck this world off and fuck you, you, and you!  You think this is subtle enough?  Think again!  You just created a world of mass hysteria for we will all drown in your different faces of selfishness.  If I have to die, you’re just too already late.  If I have to suffer, I guess, I’m not the first one.  If I have to lose everything that keeps me sane, I’m most willing to.  I’d rather settle in my own self-defined sense than to share the cruelty of the world you all created.  I’d rather stay this way forever for in my reality, you all don’t exist.  You will never exist.

You were never much of help anyway.  You were never there the day I died.  You all got reasons to pass all the burden right on my pouch.  You all got ways to leave everything behind forcing me to keep putting my life on hold just so you could live yours.

One day, you’ll just see me right down the cracks cold and stiff.  One day, you’ll just feel the coldness you caused my heart.  One day, you’ll just have me too late.  One day, you’ll just realize how fuck you all are for contributing a lot to my depression.  One day.  Just one day.  Then you’ll realize how deep the wounds in my heart really are.  You’ll realize the severity of the scars you engraved on my skin.  You’ll realize the horrific world you all just put me into.  You are the imbalance of my duality.  I just wish you never exist.

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Posted by on November 1, 2014 in The Avenue


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Stay Regular: Writing Is My Best Therapy!

Quick Tip: Stay Regular:  An entry for regarding a topic, “A healthy blog is like a healthy colon; if you put crap in, you’ll get crap out.”

corporateHow come they were able to make it?  How were the big hitters able to dash through all the way?  How were they able to get up there and stay right there?  When and how did they start?  Who are they all and how many are they out there?

The park is my fastest getaway at night when everyone’s heading home but at daylight, if I get there early, I rush to a nearby bookstore and browse on any book or article about writing.  It’s what I do best.  I’ve been writing ever since I was in high school.  My twin sister started it and now I’m living what we used to be doing together.  I always love writing and I know I’ll never get tired of it so I’m helping myself out.  I wanna learn more about this field and what other methodologies I need to learn and adapt.  I also browse on stories about young writers especially the big ones.  They’re stories behind writing amaze me.  I look up to them and wanna become one of them.  I really love doing this for this is the task that’s closest to my heart.  It’s never taking endless calls everyday, managing people from time to time, nor helping young individuals learn fundamentals of knowledge — it’s writing!  My heart keeps shouting it at all corners waiting to burst.

Despite that, I cannot deny that it also adds up to my depression for lately, I’ve been craving for it; that I didn’t wanna do anything else anymore but just keep writing.  Even my daily routines were lately affected by my obsession.  Everyday I think about it as everyday, I write.  I never stop writing as I never stop thinking.  How come the big ones were able to make it?  How come they were able to pass through all circumstances?  Is it because they’re normal while I’m not?  Though I’m a Bipolar and I do have extreme mood swings, my writing hobby is never affected.  Actually, I can even write more at times I’m depressed for this is my refuge.  This is my comfort zone.  In writing is where I’m safe.  I can runaway from the world and live in my imagination.  I’m more on imagining things.  I’m more on story telling.  I’m more on description for these things are what I’m usually repressed from.  At times the world just hits me all at once, I run to my fantasy.  I run through my never-ending aisle of imagination.  I’ve even created myself high walls where no one could reach me and hurt me at times I’m so alone.  I’ve even built a castle for my late twin sister whom I used to write together with so she could stay and rest in my heart forever.  I’m so good at imagining things.  I’m good in thinking.  I’m good in planning and believing but I’m not in putting them into action.  I’m not good in realizing dreams.  My real life even sucks for all my undying emotions just surface even now making me depressed and lost focus and will to live my life.  But at times all this happens, I come back to writing and there, I become whole again and as I’ve said, my writing is never affected by my real issues.  They boost up instead.  Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, as soon as life hits me down the cracks, I let my mind drift and create tiny little pictures until they formulate a story.  Once a story enters my mind, I start writing them and my life continues as my depression goes off.

At times I’m depressed and all undying emotions surface from within, my unquiet mind keeps on twirling and twirling like it’s going around in circles going nowhere fast.  Yet, everytime it does that, the only time I’m able to understand these emotions is when I put them into writing.  Everytime I write them, I’m able to determine each feeling that surface one by one and understand how each of them cause me gravitational pull all coming from a certain spot in my heart that runs through in fast circles like whirlpools until they knock me off the shelf driving me off so crazy.  My mind gets captured as my mind thinks all by itself that I can hardly control it.  Yet, instead of repeating what I used to do at times I get depressed where I welcome the thoughts of running my life off the cliff to end everything up, I write instead.  This is my best therapy and I just lately realized that.  All this time, it’s just lately I’ve come to understand that depression can still be won over by doing what I love doing and that’s writing it down for I can very well express myself in writing more than conversing. This is what I’ve been doing for two weeks now and as my close friends observed that I’m getting better.

I should have realized this long ago.  I should have realized this early this year for last month, my depression was severely serious for negative thoughts really entered my mind so fast and easily won me over most of the nights as undying emotions surfaced five to seven times a day and each time they surface, they stay long for an hour to three.  There was even a week when I was seriously depressed from the time I woke up in the morning until the time I was about to go to bed.  I did nothing but kept on crying feeling sorry for myself that I was still alive and that I still woke up.  I kept on hating my mornings for everytime I woke up and open my eyes, a strong undeniable thought quickly entered my mind, whispering, “Oh shit, why am I still alive?”

That was scary.  That was seriously scary.  This time, I’m not gonna let myself keep circling the drain anymore.  I’m all tired of being depressed.  Now that I’m able to find my way out.  Now that I was able to discover my quickest getaway from this avenue, I don’t wanna stay right down there forever.

I’m slowly healing now and at the same time, starting to realize the worth of living.  Well, thanks to my happy pill alternative which is writing, I was able to find my way toward my inner peace.  I was able to find my best way of driving my depression off in an effortless way.  Well, the source is still uncertain though yet, I don’t care.  Not for now.  I’m not on this ground to figure it out.  All I know is that, it’s really in deed helping me out and I just never thought writing is my obsession ever since that turned out to be a very good hobby.


Posted by on February 23, 2013 in The Avenue


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The Feeling Is Mutual!

WHY DO A LOT of people act like you owe them something?  Why do a lot of people think that you have to walk on tip toe before them like they even deserve it?  Why do a lot of people get insecure when they see how happy you are now and that you’re no longer drowning in your yesterdays?  Why do a lot of people act like you owe them the time they spent in meeting you knowing that it’s you who made the effort of going to where you could meet her in the first place?  It’s not even halfway yet!

SOME WOULD REALLY think and believe that they’re always better than you.  That if they’re not happy, you should not, too.  I have already empathized on you a lot of times.  I even controlled my temper and gave you a benefit of the doubt just to help you feel good for you were undergoing a certain circumstance knowing that at those times, I was drowning in my depression as well.  I healed all within me.  I healed all by myself.  I healed all alone.  As much as possible I never bothered you nor anybody else when I was so down and depressed though I was nearly there and now that I was able to cope up, you’ll just simply throw me this face of shit?  I mean, what kind of friend are you?  Well, I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place so I wouldn’t have to observe and feel your insecurity.  Even just for one fuckin’ hour, you couldn’t even dare to fake!  All you think of is yourself.  All you care for are your feelings.  You only hear what you wanna hear.  At times you’re down, you want others to be on the same boat as you are.  It doesn’t mean that you’re losing, others should, too.  But you know what?  At those times when I was the one who’s down, where were you?  Of course, you’re just right there showing me how tired you were of comforting me.  That it was very contagious to promote a depressive atmosphere.

DON’T EXPECT ME to bend for I’ve already been there for several times now.  I’ve done that already and this time, it’s all over.  If you’re already tired, then that’s fine.  The feeling is just so mutual!

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Posted by on February 20, 2013 in The Avenue, The Episodes


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A Bill For My Life!

AyalaTHIS IS A STORY that happened last night while I was sitting on a long empty bench taking my time to drive my depression off before going home for a goodnight sleep.  I’m all right here waiting, listening, observing the flow of my life.  I was trying to relax and this is what I usually do before heading home.  I come here almost every night for the splashes of the water from a nearby fountain is so pleasing to the ears.  They wash away all the stress of the day.  They make me feel somehow refreshed though the night is always humid.  The air is forever warm for it’s almost summer now and the splashes of the water just invites me to dive in.  The whooshing of the leaves as the warm breeze blow them is so relaxing.  It’s driving me back to the good old days.

I’VE BEEN KISSING my depression good-bye.  I’ve been doing a lot of effort to drive it away and heal, move on and have a fresh start all over again but it just seems like depression is just so at home in my heart and it’s not going away.  Or, at times, I’m able to cope up, it comes back.  It keeps on coming back.  I just can’t completely let go of it no matter what, and I so hate this.  I really hate this.  I don’t deserve this. Despite all the failures I made in the past, I guess I must have also done something right.  I’m so tired of my situation when it just keeps coming back surfacing from within every now and then.  So in silence, I asked God to help me.  I was silence for few minutes before I started writing.

THANKS TO THIS RANDOM man who walked to me today right on the same spot where a friend met me two days ago, and he chased my depression away.  It just started with asking if I have time for an NGO survey about people’s opinion regarding donations for government educational and livelihood projects and I said yes, and the conversation started.  It lasted for almost 20 minutes and it felt like just less than 10 for me for he was so courteous and polite in asking questions and I enjoyed giving him long answers.  He also knew how to make small talks and I enjoyed it.  We’ve also talked about almost anything under the sun and we jived.  It was a very nice conversation.  Right after the survey, he bid good-bye and right after he left it was the only time I noticed that the night was no longer young and that I had already stayed longer than I should here and that it’s getting late now and really have to go.

FOR ANOTHER INSTANCE, here came another man and this time, he’s more like a father who tried to sell me something.  It’s actually a therapeutic oil for he said, he’s sick and he needed to sell them to earn extra money for his medication.  I didn’t really need it and I found a lot of passers-by and other random individuals also sitting on other long benches so I refused.  I just explained to him politely and he didn’t really forced me to buy his product.  And when he left, I told myself that I really have to go now for I can’t stay here any longer.  Another random person may approach me again.  Then so I started walking.

AS I WAS WALKING few distance from the park, I saw from a distance an old lady begging a lot of passers-by for a coin of gesture.  I could walk ahead or walk away from her direction just to pass her through but something from within push me to go to her, in which I did.

AS SOON AS SHE saw me walking toward her, she immediately looked straight into my eyes as she quickly raised her right hand to beg for a coin though I was still few distance away.  When I saw her eyes, something I can hardly explain happened to me.  It’s like there’s an impact and it’s so strong.  I felt pity for her immediately like my heart was crumpled  all in a sudden.  And when I saw her palm opened for a coin, I felt like my skin just turned inside-out.  On her palm I saw a lot of lines drawn from my yesterdays.  It was like my whole past was all written on her hands and how mixed up and jumbled those lines were was how upside-down my life was.  Something from the back of my head kept on telling me to give her something worth driving my depression off  and yes, I did.  I actually gave her a worth bill and when I handed it, she acted like she didn’t expect it.  Her eyes watered and turned red and her hand slightly shoke as she crumpled the bill strongly on her palm like she’s scared to lose it.  Despite the gesture, the words she gave out touched me even more.  She said that she’s so thankful I passed by and that may God bless me for my heart was clean for I voluntarily approached her unlike others whom she begged with yet they can’t even dare to pick a lousy cross-eyed coin from their pocket.  She also said that she’s been begging for hours now for she just wanted to go home yet the coins she collected was still not enough.  I didn’t really add up to that anymore instead she made me think for a little while.  I just gave her a slight smile and continued to walk right after she sincerely said, “Thank you, my child!”

AS I WAS WALKING, my mind kept on turning.  She made me realize some things I should have realized long ago. She made me feel so human again.  Even way before I approached her.  She already made me wonder what she’s doing in there.  Seldom.  Very seldom along Ayala Avenue where you’ll see a beggar for most passers-by are mostly businessmen in coat and tie, bank tellers in their uniform, Call Center people in corporate attire and random mall individuals who are opt for shopping.  It’s a business center and once a beggar gets there, it only means that they’re lost and that they just cannot go home that’s why they beg.

AS I KEPT ON WALKING, her sincere old face kept on surfacing from the back of my head and I kept on seeing the lines on her palm wherever I turn.  My heart was getting heavier than my knapsack and my eyebrows kept on crossing without me noticing it.

THAT WAS THE THIRD TIME I was able to encounter a random individual last night. but that third one just changed how I feel, drove my depression away and changed my whole perspective in life all drastically.  It was just a lousy bill I gave her yet for her, it was already a lot and her sincere smile kept on coming back to me.

MY POINT HERE IS THAT, we don’t have to force ourselves to be happy.  We don’t have to force ourselves in getting what we really want for in one way or another, even through small little things, happiness may come along the way at their least expected figure.  Anything could happen outside if we’ll just care to observe from small little things to random gestures from random people, we may experience it and we never know that it’s already coming or that we just experienced it unless we realize it.

AND ANOTHER THING I realized from what happened last night was that, we people are so keen to perfection.  We depend our happiness on perfection.  Just like the first man who came to me whom I sincerely entertained for he’s all dressed up in corporate attire, good-looking and very professional.  I quickly made a conclusion that, hey!  I should entertain this person for he’s wholesome and I know I’ll be safe not knowing that there’s still another individual from a few distance who was actually more in need of time.  I mistakenly judged the three random persons on how they looked like not knowing that looks can sometimes be very deceiving.  Beauty is always found within., as she told me and I can never forget, that my heart was clean and may God bless me.

IS MY HEART REALLY CLEAN?  Do I really have good intentions at most times?  It was just a lousy gesture yet it already meant a lot to her.  Like how she made me realize how for so many endless nights I gave up for life and wanted to end everything up yet there she was, out on the street, dying to live, begging to send her home.  She made me realize that how strong my depression was, was how mixed and jumbled the lines on her palm were yet, she still managed to smile and be thankful for small little random gestures.  She had no idea yet, that bill was like my bale and she just set me free.

I NEVER KNEW who she was and I never know if I’ll still be seeing her ever again but, in return for that lousy bill was a change on how I look at life forever.

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Posted by on February 20, 2013 in The Avenue


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SUNDAY POST : Unforgettable

SUNDAY POST : Unforgettable

sunrise on AyalaI ALWAYS GIVE MY MIND a break every Sunday.  I tend to let go of negative emotions I got from the past week.  I relieve myself from stress.  I do things I wanna do and most of the time I just binge on anything under the sun, anything I could think of and feel of doing which are completely irrelevant at all.   Well, for most of the time, it’s the time I just sit on a computer at home do nothing but throw blogs all over the net and speed myself up on anything I could ever find over the widest information superhighway.  For sometimes, it’s also the time for me to reminisce on an event that occurred the past week, run a thought on how my life goes, and make endless plans for the next week which are usually too grandiose to come true.

BUT TODAY, I’M WRITING for an event that happened so quickly yet changed my whole life eventually.  It’s an event that touched my heart, woke my soul up and even for so how many years would pass, I know, this one, I can never forget.  This is an event that’s so close to my heart.  It lingers on all corners of my soul and always reminds me not to give up for I’m already here.  I just have to keep moving for there’s still a very long way to walk ahead.

IT’S THE FIRST TIME I experienced sunrise in this big city.  Ever since I got here, I haven’t seen it as beautiful as having it on the long Ayala Avenue in Makati where I I’ve been working since I got here.  It’s the beauty of the city with all of its tall buildings yet with less cars and just simply invited me to keep walking ahead for there’s still a lot in there that awaited me.  Yes, it’s that time that I got out of the building from my graveyard shift and welcomed the Good Friday sunrise.  For some, it’s lonely and depressing for there were only few vehicles passing through the avenue that’s known to be always busy and never sleeps.  It was a Roman Catholic holiday and most employees were on a long vacation but for us, working on Call Centers?  We never know what holidays are.  All we know are our moving shifts, our endless extra hours and our undying calls.  But for me, this day was so glorious for of all days I ever had, it happened to fall on Good Friday where I experienced the feeling I’ve always wanted to feel for months then.  It was a glorious Friday where I surely felt the placidity of the whole city, no blowing of horns at any corner, the cold soft breeze that run through my sleeves and the morning light that’s so inviting and just simply spoke on its behalf.

ON THIS DAY, I LEARNED to appreciate mornings.  On this day, I realized that mornings are my most effective therapy.  Well, in oppose to my depression, since I truly hate sunsets for they’re really depressing, it’s sunrise that I’ve been patiently waiting for most of the days since that day I experienced it in Ayala.  Everything was so much like yesterday for me though this picture was actually taken last April of 2010.

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Posted by on February 18, 2013 in Lyrics of Life, Sunday Posts


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