To be honest I’m not quite sure if you were even looking at me or looking through me. I don’t know you that well after all. Maybe you just like to stare at empty spaces and mistook me for one.
We must do away with the stigma that if a person is unwed then there must be something wrong with them or that if a person don’t deem marriage as a priority then they have psychological issues.
I know I say being single is fine and that I’m fine, but on days like this when lovers are out kissing in public and all the T.V. ever plays are romance movies… I remember you.
I am empty beds. The safe bet. The road well-traveled.
I am spilt wine and sweaty dance floors.
I am the victim and the perpetrator.
I fell in love with early mornings, and how our bones groaned from exhaustion of memories ingrained in the night.
If we had met in another lifetime, we would’ve been better versions of ourselves – the versions who would’ve stuck around the naked morning after.
Plenty of people will gladly help to pull you down, you don’t have to be one of them.
By disguising consumerism as love, Valentine’s has sneakily nestled itself into our social rituals that you may not realize it affects you, too.
In the Philippines beauty pageants are welcomed with enthusiastic fervor comparable to that of an Olympic competition. I will even venture to say Filipinos are obsessed with pageants and I don’t exaggerate.
Because I don’t want this to be another mistake. I don’t want us to make cautionary tales out of each other. I don’t want to be scorched to cinders by heartbreak anymore.