bad times


I can’t remember the last time I was with you. Alone. I can’t remember the last time we shared a cup. I can’t remember the last time we studied our brains out for an upcoming recitation or exam. I can’t remember the last time we went out just to hang. I can’t remember the last time we really talked.

I can’t remember because I never thought that that would be the last. I lived by the day knowing that what we do is something we would do for years. But vividly do I remember everything we’ve shared, everything we did.

It ended too soon, eh? Too soon that it caught me in my most off-guard moment. Too soon that it almost felt like my mind’s gonna blow anytime thinking what went wrong. Too soon that it made me uneasily emotional.

So tell me…

When was the last time I was with you?


Starbucks U.N.

It was the summer of 2008 when I first set foot in this place which is located just almost near the north end of Roxas Boulevard in Manila. Since then, it has been my third home. My refuge. My haven.

It is still clear in my mind the very first time I went here. It was a scorching hot weekday and a venti frappuccino was really a great refreshment. I was with my ‘superfriend’, a high school friend whom I never got to hang out with anymore since college started. I fell in love with the place right away. Seriously, just after I had my first sip in a comfortable couch in that two-floor shop, I knew that this place would be a home for me.

And I was right. College started and this coffee house with all its friendly baristas and jazzy music has been a haven for me and for some of my friends. We had spent hours here working on Algebra and Statistics problems, English and History papers, Econometrics models and a lot other school shitloads. It has also been a place where we celebrate and just chill whenever school permits us to, a destination after school.

But above all those, this place has been my refuge – like my evacuation area whenever I’ve been devastated by a great typhoon or like a concert hall every time I want to reward myself for a job well done. It has been a place to crash for me. Well, almost.

Now that I got to think of that three years of good and bad memories I had in this humble place, I can’t help but be nostalgic about how it has witnessed my transformation as a man. I remember all those people I shared a table and a cup of coffee with. Some of them are still here but most are gone. It’s a lot to take. I look in every spot here – couches, tables, corners – and I still clearly remember some unforgettable moments with those people who had been here with me.

Now, I’m about to finish college. And I am still here. Somebody told me that I need a new environment because of the present situations in my life. But no matter what happens, I will still be coming back here. I don’t care if I’ll be sitting all by myself or with somebody new. It’s a part of me. This is my home. My refuge. My haven.

Opportunity Cost

In economics, I learned how to maximize one’s utilization of resources and how do risks could lead to negative or positive returns. But above everything else, as I embark on my last year in finishing a degree, economics has taught me that in life, you can really never have everything. There are always trade-offs. And opportunity costs.

Opportunity cost, as defined, is the resource you have to give up in order to pursue another one. Let’s say, tonight I wanna go to the cinemas but I gotta study for my Econometrics exam tomorrow. I cannot afford to fail the exam so I need to set aside my plan of seeing a movie. Here, the opportunity cost of passing my Econometrics exam is going to the cinemas. This is a very relative concept, yes. Someone’s opportunity cost might be a necessity to others.

We always look into the brighter side. And most of the time, we care less about the things we have let go, of the people we take for granted. How does it feel like to be the opportunity cost? How does it feel like to be ‘unconsciously’ forgone by the one you have been holding onto?

What Hurts the Most

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok
But that’s not what gets me

What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do

It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ It
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do

Not seeing that loving you
That’s what I was trying to do

On Being Lost…

It’s been cold. It’s made my knees weak and my bones brittle. Walking down the pavement is almost next to impossibility. Aside from the aches, I  see no light, no direction. I am lost. And frail.

This has been my state since the heat of summer. At first, I managed to get by. But, the emptiness has gotten the best of me. I started feeling out of place. I started shunning from people around. My focus has been shaken up since. I was disincentivized.

I just wanna stay put. I don’t wanna move in this labyrinth of suffering and discomfort. Every move I make only causes more sears.

I’m almost at my breaking point. Trying to fill up the hole with something else has not helped. Everywhere, I felt like I’m no good.

Still, I know I will be okay. But it won’t be soon.

Silent Stream

Seldom do I sincerely enjoy a Filipino song to the core. Today is that once in a blue moon moment. If not because of my Ethics examination earlier today, I would have not come across to this wonderful OPM song which speaks for me now.

I never thought that this song would hit me as much as it did. So after singing it in front of the class (should I say, to myself rather coz they told me my voice was so low), I explained the message behind in relation to Filipino Ethics.

It just came to me instantaneously. The river symbolizes the stream of tears in the cheeks coming down from the eyes. The song is about the pain of someone who’s been taken for granted, someone who’s been waiting to be noticed. A heartbreak message was embedded in this slow rock-themed song.

In Filipino ethics, being forgone or being taken for granted is the most painful thing to do. It’s damn right! Most especially when everyday, you see the person who used to be with you and you can’t do the usual things you did before. Everything has changed. It’s as if you’re strangers. Worse, it’s as if you don’t exist anymore.

My professor asked me if I have been taken for granted at one point in my life. Yes, I answered. With my head held high.  But, my insides are crumbling I thought I’d break down. I felt my tears jerking up. But I just smiled ’til I reached my chair. I was able to keep myself together. It got me thinking, though. Was I able to send the message?

I don’t know. All I ought to do now is just let the stream flow silently until it dries. Screaming out loud would do no good. No one hears. Even my silence is never heard. It’s a dead end. In solitude, I think, I’m going to find peace eventually. I just have to wait.

It’s hard. It’s excruciatingly painful to live everyday not mattering to the person who was once there beside you. But, life goes on even when going on means you have to crawl up to get back on your feet.


Everyday I die.
Seeing you not seeing me
feels like a stab
in my already-wounded shelf.
I used to matter.
At least for me, I did.
You used to see me.
You used to need me.
Now, I’m invisible.
Now, I’m insignificant.
Now, I am nothing.
But what can I do?
Would shoving this to your face
again and again help?
Haven’t you proved
I’m a ghost already by not caring?
I should have known.
I should have not been a person.
I should have not given.
Caring about is not my forte.
But I’ve learned from myself
that once I do, I go all out.
I give all my cards.
It just so happened that I cared about
the wrong person.
Because of it…
everyday I die.