Way back when i was four

Tears can’t help but fall,

For these wounds I’ve been trying to ignore;

All coming from a wrecked core,

That has been messed up way back when i was four.

That vivid part where i heard i wasnt enough and I wasn’t capable.

“It’s okay… It’s not their fault”

Lines i kept believing all along.

But heavens and hell do know,

How i wanted to blame them for it all.

But the heart, oh this heart, even though torn,

Keeps on choosing to see the beauty of it all.

I need to face this though.

This shadow of blame and frustration

That haunt me each moment i got stuck in this scary dark room of my emotions.

I need to face this though.

And stop performing well in this fake show

Of being okay with this situation.

I need to face this, and gather this black shadowy smoke,

Put it inside a bunch of colorful balloons,

Let go of its strings that i hold,

So they could fly above the sky,

And watch them fly away and become so tiny in my sight.

Looking above, I’d sigh and smile,

For choosing to face the shadow that got me terrified.

And only time, darling, give me time,

I know i will heal, at the right time.

Tears can’t help but fall,

But I’m not holding it in anymore.

Childhood vs Adulthood, and some thoughts with it.

Earlier we were browsing our old photos from an old photo album that breathes like it’s gonna die soon. Although sooner or later it will, the joy that was enveloped in every dust of a developed film will forever be fresh in our memories. The how bad we wanted to be old when we were young, the how impatient we were to work in an office someday that we even thought of skipping school just to accelerate to adulthood and the picture of how fantastic growing old was. We had a really happy childhood—despite being poor and having less, despite the wounds and bruises that literally left scars on our knees for stumbling and falling onto the ground while running and playing around the streets way too much, despite having just enough “baon” for school and notwithstanding the “palo” and sermon we always get for disappointing our parents.

Sigh.

The paradox of it all is this: Now we all wish we were young again because nobody told us that being an adult sucks… and hurts and… you know what’s next. Or maybe our parents did say it then, but we were too stubborn of a kid to listen. I remember my mother used to tell me to stop fantasizing about growing old fast and to enjoy childhood because you could never take it back. She was right, no? But I used to smirk a lot everytime she says this because all my daydreams and playtime were filled with acting like a boss in an office while carrying my momma’s bag and writing in a checkbook that was self-made.

The fact of the matter was we always want what we cannot have—so crazy and so bad that it kills me to think that we really can’t take it back, that we can no longer be kids anymore who only worry about them games to play tomorrow and how to make our momma proud.

I’d like to think, however, that everyday we’ve got a choice. Only two, though. Nothing in between. You can choose to whine all day with all the bills you’ve got to pay and start slowing, or you can embrace the slaps of adulthood, take it all in and keep on growing. Growing on both the literal sense of it and the more in depth one, you know what I mean. But remember, the choices we consciously make shape our destiny, so be careful, be very, very careful.