I feel like a crumbling building, so I create.

I take paintbrushes and, even though I have no built skill in drawing or painting, I make bumpy edges to soft drawings with water. I smile when it resembles my reference photo.

I take my guitar and sing, sometimes songs that are already written and sometimes songs that I’m writing.

I take my pen and write poems, a stream of consciousness, or letters to her. I, like my brush, paint her in what I imagine her to be inside of my heart like some sort of caveman. It’s a crude and strongly misrepresentative, but it’s honest.

These are just ways to build more bricks, and so far today I’ve built more than I’ve crumbled.

But the crumbling building right now is her, so I destroy. I need to. I destroy what I’ve built for what she has built.

I always wrote off your eyes. From stolen sideways glances across the room I saw them as plain dark brown, almost black, an outlier in the realm of the rest of your irresistible features.

But then we talked; our first real conversation in years. Words slid easily through by mouth, a sharp contrast from my usual reserved self. I couldn’t tell if I couldn’t stop smiling because you were, or vise versa.

That night, when I closed my eyes, all I could think about was yours. Up close they aren’t black at all, they glow golden brown. And when you look at me, your stare holds and I wonder what you think of my eyes.

But you’re not mine; you can’t be mine.

When I look at you my heart pounds so hard that I’m worried you might hear it one day. Eventually, you did hear it but you chose to ignore it. I asked for your heart once with my eyes because my words were too clumsy and strangled and you didn’t give me a chance to show you how I really felt about you. But I told myself that the saddest stories of unrequited love are the ones that I didn’t even try.

So without your permission, I did try. I was there for you whenever you needed a friend. I tried to understand your side every time something would go wrong. I even prayed for you. I then further realized that you only talked to me when it was convenient for you. I don’t think you realized how much your silence crushed my heart. Then suddenly when I would tell myself that I should stop letting you take advantage of my feelings, you’d come back and I’d fall for it all over again. I would always go back to square one and crawl my way through the mixed signals you’d give.

You needed refuge. You needed saving because you were  t o x i c. I myself wanted to save you. I could’ve saved you. I wish I would’ve saved you. I wish you had let me saved you. But you didn’t give me the chance.

But one of these days, I will write it in the sand and hope that the sun has eyes and the trees have ears and with a prayer I will let the wind carry it away in hopes that it will someday reach you that you should have given me a chance.

“Salamat sa sandali. Salamat sa sakit.”

Hey.

It’s been a while since I made this kind of epigram.

I missed you;

But a glance of your face suddenly brought back that spark.

Although don’t question what we are cause I myself know that we are beyond.

Beyond this vulnerability that frightens me and you.

Beyond this earthly existence.

We are extraterrestrial: nothing can explain the energy between us.

I found a boy who is extremely attractive. Like incredibly. To the point I pictured myself being with him. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m feeling feelings I never thought I’d feel.

But this one person is making me question everything.

I thought he was a star at first, but now I know better.

He’s a constellation.