Dear Mr. Right,

Dear Mr. Right,

Thank you for the second glance. I know that I’m not the type that one falls for at first sight… but then you looked back. For letting your eyes linger for five more seconds, thank you very much.

Thank you for the chai tea latte you sent via messenger while I was working during lunch break. I wasted fifteen minutes contemplating whether I should accept something from a stranger, but I drank it anyway. For knowing the only drink that can soothe my nerves, thank you very much.

Thank you for that first call. The shake in your voice was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, and I could not stop smiling. For insisting to drive me home that night because of the heavy rain, thank you very much.

Thank you for our first date. I ate half your share of the baby back ribs we ordered, and you’re okay with it. For saying that I’m the most beautiful while I see a chubby girl when I look at the mirror, thank you very much.

Thank you for our first kiss. It wasn’t my first, but it felt the most sincere. You said it was yours, and joked about you preferring men. For just rolling your eyes and giving me another kiss, thank you very much.

Thank you for the VIP ticket to the Backstreet Boys concert. I was able to touch Nick Carter’s hand and it was the best birthday gift ever. For not minding me playing their songs on repeat in your car, thank you very much.

Thank you for shaking my dad’s hand. I never told you, but he was so happy that I was able to bring a man home at last. For putting a stop to a series of hidden relationships, and being the first guy who’s not afraid to be scrutinized by my dad, thank you very much.

Thank you for buying flowers for my mom on mother’s day. She’s very hard to please, and the smile she gave you was priceless. You’ve managed to make her warm up to you and it made our relationship better. For making her happy in a way that I couldn’t, thank you very much.

Thank you for doing my brother’s homework. He’s smart enough on his own, but your lazy way of doing things surprisingly made him more efficient. For loving him as your own, thank you very much.

Thank you for last night’s fight. It was our eighteenth monthsary, and I ruined it by looking so tired. I told you that I needed a break, and you did not say a single word while driving me home. For embracing me and saying you love me before you leave, thank you very much.

I woke up this morning and decided to write you this letter.

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I planned on ending this with a ‘goodbye,’ but looking back only made me realize how much I want this list to go on…

Like forever.

~

A response to Readwave Writing Challenge: Thank You

Not a true story.

Not a true story.

We love keeping secrets.

There will always be something that others will never know about us. We try so hard to cover it up with superficial things, not realizing that protecting it has already become our reason for living.

I once kept a little secret with someone.

It was a secret made more potent by interlocked hands, late night strolls, and stolen kisses. It made my heart beat faster. It introduced me to sleepless nights. And I loved it.

I considered it the most beautiful secret I ever kept, that once I wished I could tell the whole world about it…

And that was the mistake.

For as soon as the idea entered my thoughts, I woke up and started to ask why.

Why is there a need to hide something so beautiful? Why keep it to ourselves when we can easily let everyone see how wonderful this is?

I found the answer eventually:

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Our secret wasn’t real.

A truth that endured through lies will never be true.

I knew then that I had to let go, for the secret grew heavier and I could not carry it much longer.

The rapid heartbeat became that of fear, and the sleepless nights were plagued with guilt.

And so one night after a late stroll, I left my co-keeper, and never looked back.

~

A response to Daily Prompt: Clean House

September 28, 2016

September 28, 2016

I stare out the window, smiling as I stir my coffee. It’s a lovely Wednesday. Today marks my second anniversary in the company I’d been praying for since I started taking MBA classes, and my idea of celebration is to stay at home, sit by the window, and write.

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Oh writing. I can still remember the day I started to blog and answer daily writing prompts. It was three years ago, at a time when I thought that nothing I say would matter. I was so lonely then, nursing a broken heart that I tried so hard not to acknowledge, only to realize that everything I wrote was related to it.

They say pain can either make or break you. What did it do to me? Both.

I remember feeling so broken that my mind refused to believe that there’s a cure. I remember thinking that I’d never be whole again, that each day of my life I’d walk carrying that empty cold space in my heart. It was frightening.

But then it made me a better person. The tears have somehow cleansed my eyes of all the illusion. The path became clearer. I began to learn who I really am – what I’m meant to do, and where I’m meant to go.

And since then I decided to live with purpose each day. To focus on what I have instead of what I don’t have. I found joy in cultivating my gifts, knowing that one can never stop learning.

With my determined spirit, I finished graduate school last August 2014. And while still happy with the company I was working for during that time, I decided to follow my heart and send my six-pager CV to the company of my dreams. And as you already know, I got in after a series of almost nervous breakdowns.

Life became easier since then, but I never stopped doing what I loved most – writing. From random blogging three years ago, words just flowed and I started submitting my works to editors and publishers. The day that one of my articles made it to print was the happiest day of my life.

Everything happened so fast since then.

And now, on the day that I decided to rest and reflect, I realize that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

Yes, partly because of my job and the success of my write-ups, but the main reason is that…

After three years of not feeling anything, I’m finally in love.

XX

A response to Daily Prompt: Ebb and Flow

We all know the story

We all know the story

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Snow White

She barely had a bite of the poisoned apple when she fell to the ground, lifeless. For three days the seven dwarves mourned, and for her they made a coffin made of glass. Even then, she was the fairest of them all — white as snow, red as blood. In her deep sleep on a mountain in the woods, she waited for her prince to come and help her spit the poison from her mouth.

Sleeping Beauty

One who was both blessed and cursed. In her sixteenth year she pricked herself with a spindle, making her fall into a very deep sleep. The queen did everything for her to come back to life, but the misery only brought her to her grave. For a hundred years the princess waited in her dreams for a man with a pure heart to love her and break the spell with a kiss.

Cinderella

The mistreated one who was given a chance. In her beautiful disguise she was able to capture the heart of the prince, but the fear of him knowing the truth made her leave him with nothing but a shoe. News came that the prince was seeking for the shoe’s owner, and covered in cinder she waited for him to find her – the perfect fit.

Rapunzel

 The damsel in a high tower without a door. She had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold. Every day she would let down her hair for the enchantress, but in her heart she waited for a man to climb her walls and take her away.

Little Mermaid

The one who traded a tail and a tongue for two feet. With pain each day she danced with grace for the prince, waiting for the day that he’d fall for her and be granted an immortal soul.

Belle

Only Belle was different. She did not wait idly for some handsome prince to find her. She was the one who saved the Beast – the prince who was waiting for her to find him.

We all know the story.

~

A response to Daily Prompt: A Bend in Time

The Life of i

The Life of i

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My name is i, and I welcome you to my iRoom – the place where I’ve spent my entire 27 years. It’s the best place in the world.

“Wake up i, it’s 8 in the morning,” says my iAlarm, an alarm clock embedded in my iPillow. And so I rise from my warm iBed, sit on my iChair, and press the button that will take me to my iTable for breakfast.

On top of the iTable is the iMenu, from where I will select my breakfast for today. I touch the box that says Egss Ben, and a hole forms at my iTable from where my breakfast comes out. You may take a look at the iMenu and have breakfast with me, don’t be shy. Baked ziti for you? Perfect.

While you’re enjoying your food, let me just take a look at my activities for the day. My iPlanner does a perfect job in organizing my schedule. It’s good that you visited on a Saturday because I don’t have online classes and I can entertain your questions.

“After eating breakfast, you’ll take a bath and make yourself look presentable for an interview with an iJournal staff. The will take pictures,” my iPlanner instructs. You’re lucky my iBathroom has a perfect grooming facility. I hope you don’t ask personal questions in the interview. I’m not seeing anyone anyway.

If you’re done eating, then please excuse me, I’ll just take a shower. I press the shower button, and my iChair leads me to the iBathroom. The door slides open and, well, this part doesn’t have to be said in detail right? I’ll be back in a few…

Okay.

I’m back.

Hope I look smart enough for the photos. I’m ready for your questions.

So, who made the iRoom?

My dad. He has been known for his contributions to technology even before I was born, but my condition inspired him to research more and invent more. As you can see, I’m a cripple, and this iChair is the most important thing in this room. I can feel dad’s love for me everytime I sit on this chair.

I also have a strange skin condition. I get burns when exposed to sunlight. Maybe my mom read a lot of vampire stories while I was in her womb. She never admitted it.

That’s why the iRoom was made. This is the place where I’ll be for the rest of my life. Good thing technology has made everything easier for someone like me.

I now after this interview a lot of people would wish for a room same as this. But hear this from someone who’s been living in a box for the past 27 years — real life’s better.

Next question?

~

A response to Daily Prompt: 2100

I’m not really sure if the i’s would still be in during that time..