May hang-over pa ‘yang mga ‘yan sa TSAMU. Hays.
Hindi kasi tayo updated na last year pa yung Gangnam Style. Basahin mo ito, I never thought na magki-click agad ang attitude natin. Seryoso. Kasi you know, bihira sa nyebe ng Pilipinas tayo kung mag-usap e. Baka magnyebe? AHAHA. Thank you ha? I enjoyed your company. I love you Samantha.
Hindi kami malas. Sadyang nagkataon lang na nasira ang propeler ng bus na aking nasakyan.
Hindi kami malas, naghintay lang naman kami sa gitna ng SLEX ng 45 minutes.
Hindi kami malas. Pinagalitan kami sa loob ng bus dahil maingay kami.
Hindi kami minalas, kontikan na naming lakarin ang Nichols mula Alabang dahil wala na kaming makita na sasakyan papuntang Pacita.
Hindi kami minalas, dahil mukha na kaming desperadong makahanap ng sasakyang pauwi sa kani-kanilang bahay.
Hindi kami minalas. Nagkataon lang talaga ang lahat. Putangina… Uulitin ko, hindi kami minalas, nagkataon lang talaga na mali ang nasakyan naming bus
Hindi kita namimiss.
Naalala ko ang noon at kasabay nito, dumampi sa akin ang hangin at doon ko napansin kung gaano na tayo niluma at nilimot ng panahon. Sa pinagsaluhan nating alaala sa ilalim ng ulap, buwan at bituin. Sa bawat mong lingon, ngiti at hagakhak sa napakabaduy kong biro.
Uulitin ko, hindi kita namimiss. Hindi. Hindi talaga. Naalala lang kita. I thought, shit never happens to me, but it did.
To the devil beside me,
Thank you for the accompaniment and a bottle of anger and hatred. It made me a fool.
I took the first shot. Thank you for mounting my darkest side. I condemn for entering in my system and I have nothing but to play with your histrionic alibis. I feel tipsy.
Second shot. Thank you for being an eye-catcher, in a wrong way. I hate it, because it is something I can’t be proud of. Something I cannot erase. I am a monster, as of this moment. You changed me.
Third shot. My head is hurting but I’m on my conscious side. Thank you for believing in you. I pretend, assume and expect much and it leads me to major frustration. I deal with pain, pain and more pain plus the sadness that lies within. It made me cry.
Fourth shot, and this will be the last. Thank you for being there by my side and do something awkward. You seduced me. I released all the hidden pain in my heart and after that.
I fell asleep.
I was drunk by my emotion and I am having a head ache right now. To have a nuisance feeling after you wake up is one of the hardest part in the morning. I am suffering with the consequences. I can’t bring back all of those. And they leave me, because of you.
Please bring me back to the moment before you offer a drink. Still cursing the pain and the rest of the broken memories. It. Is. All. My. Effin. Fault.
As a writer you’re allowed many passes. Most people that read your work will in fact enjoy it, because most people are not writers, and have no idea what makes a poem “good,” outside of their own, unique tastes. This does not negate their opinion, but there is a huge difference between an informed opinion and an uninformed opinion. The general audience is uninformed, and we as writers are informed. It’s like making a shot in basketball in front of a bunch of 5th graders, you and Michael Jordan can both make the shot, but the difference is in the skill, the technique, and the small details that an informed audience would only pick up. The difference is, in the world of art, some artists & writers seem to believe that by making that shot, they are now immune to words of advice & criticism.
We, as writers, have an obligation to spare no one in our opinion. We are responsible for the thick-skinned, hard and critical thinking writers of tomorrow, and if we do not exercise our right to be cuttingly honest, no one will.
There are many writers currently that are soft, easy to offend and personally righteous when it comes to their “work” because they have been taught that art is whatever they want it to be, and that art is subjective and no one can tell them what is good or bad, they have no obligation to get “better” because there is no such thing.
This is the kind of thinking that is poisonous for those that spend hundreds of thousands of dollars attending school, that drop thousands of dollars on workshops to hone their craft.
These writers, these soft under bellied writers with a stronger spine in defending their work than actually learning how to make their work better dilute the pool, to an average reader our work and their work is not different, in fact, their work is often preferred for its easy to understand nature. I’ve encountered many instances where a stronger, better trained, and honed writer is undercut by writers appealing to the “the mass ignorant audience,” either through lack of technical skills or unintentional amateur mistakes.
We should never feel bad for another writer getting the shit stick, we should be proud that they are getting the truth, no matter how cruel or mean. Any criticism often comes from a place of honesty or truth, and in both instances they are immeasurably important to the growth of a writer.