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What is HNNKT?

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I am that kind of artist who likes to work back stage (production) or behind the camera.

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STORY OF MY LIFE

Ugly duckling

When i was a child, My parents would always tease me that I’m the ugly duckling, because my lips are so big that whenever i pout i looked like a duck. Like the ugly duckling, i am different but i tried to fit in. My mom tried to shape me and make me the person she can brag about. I followed her wants, i studied music, joined the choir, taught during Sunday school but i was not happy.the ugly duckling in the story book, was lost, he was out of place. compared to others, his physique, actions, manners are different from the other ducks. My beliefs, my actions, my whole being is different compared to my my family. I’m not religious, homophobic or conservative like my parents. For in fact i am the opposite of it. Im agnostic, liberal, and gay.

Hi, I’m Tellie, and my life is kind of complicated. I’m used to be the misfit even when I was in middle school. It bothered me before because I wanted to feel belonged. I was the target of bullying but there was this boy. He was my “knight in shining armor” and he was my first crush too. He was cute, he would fight the bullies and of course my prideful butt couldn’t stand being the damsel in distress and so I would compete with him in every way. We would bully each other, play hide in seek in the middle of the sugarcane field together and then we grew up. We grew feelings as well. He was too shy to say it and I was to shy to say it and so we grew apart.

High school came and I was not excited at all. I was in my adolescence stage and this is where I got confused with my sexuality. As a girl who grew up in a Christian environment, it was safe to say that I was homophobic as well. So having those weird feelings, having girl crushes was a mental torture for me. I couldn’t imagine becoming someone I hate. When I was in 9th grade, there was this girl who approached me and said “pwede ko ka pangaluyag?”. What I felt that day was… weird. I didn’t like the girl per se but I kind of liked the idea of “having” a girl and so I entertained her and she was my first girl kiss.. But it was nurture vs nature, and I followed the nurture instead and so I dumped her and focused on “boys” instead. I was so in denial for so many years but when I got to college that is when I accepted who I was. I passed by this beautiful girl across the hallway in La Salle and I thought to myself, “shit, I really am gay.” But then again even in the Gay community I’m still considered as the misfit. It’s what you call the bisexual conundrum. Too gay to be straight but too straight to be gay. It did bother me before but I’ve grown now.

I don’t care if other people see me as the ugly duckling because I know who I am. I know what I am, they may perceive me as the ugly duckling but to me? I am no duck. I’m too complicated to be a duck. I am a swan. That is why I don’t fit in. But that doesn’t mean I’m alone. Ive finally accept that my parents may not accept me for who I am but that’s okay. I’ve come to realize that fulfillment comes from within because if you depend on other people, if you’re chasing for other people’s validation, what happens if they don’t validate you at all? I have decided that I have accepted the fact that I might be alone forever, it sounds, sand, harsh even but honey, if you accepted the fact that you might be alone forever, you’ll start finding happiness outside of a relationship, especially a relationship with… “men”. You’ll start finding fulfillment and validation outside of what society dictates. You are you and no one has the right to tell you who you are except you and that is my own version of the Ugly duckling bedtime story.

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The Rich Restaurant

Once upon a time, there was a fancy, prestige restaurant known in the town where the richest of the rich would dine. The manager heard that one of the most famous food critic, Steven Jones, was going to visit their restaurant. No one has ever seen Jone’s face; this person though has reviewed a lot of famous restaurants, and so the staffs and chefs were preparing and were doing their best to make the restaurant look good. While they were waiting for Jones, an average looking woman on a wheelchair went inside the restaurant. The host who oversees the reservations, looked at the lady with disgust. “Good Morning Ma’am, umm, I think you’re in the wrong restaurant. You look like you can’t even afford this place” The host said.

“oh no, mister, I do have a reservation here. The name is Ms. Cameron.” the woman replied.

“no ma’am there is no Ms. Cameron here. You can check the fast food place beside this restaurant if you’re really that hungry.” the host said without even looking at the reservation list.

Cameron was patient but she was really eager to get in.

“Can you please call your manager?” Cameron asked.

The host rolled his eyes at her and called the manager. When the manager arrived, the host explained the situation and gave the manager the reservation list.

“I see what’s going on here.” The manager said as she was scanning through the reservation list. “her name is indeed here, but put her at the back, near the kitchen. We don’t want Mr. Jones to see this… woman around.” She continued.

Cameron pretended that she didn’t hear anything and the host reluctantly led her inside. When Cameron was passing through the way, she could notice that the other guests would give her a stinky look and she couldn’t help herself but feel a little awkward. When she got into her table, the waiter walked towards her.

“What do you want?” the waiter asked looking annoye.

“Umm, you didn’t even give me the menu yet.” Cameron replied with a confused look on her face, “but umm can you just give me your bestselling dish?” She continued.

The waiter laughed, “I didn’t give you the menu because I’m pretty sure you can’t afford dining here. This place is for rich people only. But I’ll give you something that you can afford.”

The waiter replied with a smirk on his face. He then left and went to the kitchen. Cameron waited for a long while until she got a bit pissed. She called the waiter again.

“sir where’s my food? I’ve waiting for an hour already.” She exclaimed.

“oh, sorry I forgot you were there. Hold on a second.” The waiter replied. After a few minutes, the waiter came back with a glass of water and a peanut butter cookie.

“sir, I’m allergic to peanuts.” Cameron said angrily.

“not my problem.” The waiter replied.

Cameron was so pissed and lost her cool.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE?!” she shouted.

everyone heard her including the manager.

“What the hell is going on here?” the manager asked angrily, “why are you making a scene? Waiter, please escort her outside, this woman doesn’t belong here. We’re lucky that Mr. Jones isn’t here yet, we’re going to be screwed if he saw this handicapped woman in our restaurant.” The Manager exclaimed.

“I see,” Cameron said calmly. She stood up from her wheelchair and said, “am I good enough for your restaurant now?” Cameron continued. “I am so fed up with your re-“

“ma’am you don’t need to make a scene. Please leave.” The manager interrupted.

“yes, I am leaving. I’m sure my readers will enjoy my reviews about this restaurant quite nicely.”

The waiter and the manager looked at her with confusion.

“I’m Steven Cameron Jones. A food critic. Any last words before I close your restaurant down?” Cameron said with a smirk on her face.

“that is impossible, Steven Jones is a man,” the manager said.

“did someone tell you that or you just made an assumption?” Cameron packed her things and took out her phone and took a picture of the manager and the waiter.

“Now, this would look great for the cover of my review. Well, I’ll go ahead now. You better start packing your things too because this restaurant’s reputation is ruined and I’ll make sure to close this business down but I hope this will teach you a lesson to treat people equally no matter what.” Cameron said before walking out of the restaurant.

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Unbelievable

u see, i am a very skeptical person. I dont believe in faries or ghosts or anything similar especially when its not supported by science. So far, i have not experienced anything spectacular or miraculous. But i guess theres this one thing that happened before that was a bit unbelievable. I think my grandfather was lucky enough to survive during the marcos era. My lolo’s original last name is sarnicola, he wanted to change it because he hated his family then one day, as he was traveling back to the Philippines, he was in the same plane as noynoy aquino who was then shot during that time. Police have been investigating and passengers would magically disappear so that there will be no witness. Lucky enough tho, they couldnt find my lolo because his last name was recently changed.

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Summer Tree

It's summer now

And for the first time in so many years

The tree grew its leaves

Living again.

It had its worst

but it never cease to survive.

Through the storm or winter,

It strives.

They planted trees with graves

or so I’ve heard

soaking the soul of the dead

to be one with nature

Bury me under this tree

when my time has come

As I saw it grow

and it saw me.

and like a cat with 9 lives,

I'm at my 7th

the first was an accident

the last was deliberate.

First, Was when i got a serious allergic attack

I was too young to remember

But I was in the hospital

I couldn’t breathe, i felt like i was being smothered

The second, when i was 8

My mom was pregnant al

my dad was driving.

They were arguing and car almost crashed.

Third, was when i got curious about the sea.

I tried to reach the middle of it and it almost drowned me.

I tried to ask for help

Thats when I realized i was alone.

Fourth, I was young,

I was wild.

I was stupid to think that i could finish another bottle.

I was stupid to think alcohol poisoning wasn’t possible.

5th, life hit me, hard.

I wasn’t sleeping, i wasn’t eating.

I collapsed because of hunger and dehydration.

I was a like summer tree on a winter season.

And 6th, my mind was playing games

Remembered how my parents argued before the crash

When no one helped when I drowned

And on how i would drink away my problems.

It was not that I lost lives

It was more about losing the signs

Losing the reason to live.

Losing the reason to breathe.

And 6th? I did it, but I failed.

Woke up in the hospital thinking

Thank the heavens I failed,

because lived.

7th, here I am standing firm

Seasons may change, I barely survived

But thank you, universe

because I am alive

It's summer now

and I've never been better.

Like this tree,

It is in my nature to survive.

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I love

I love my friends, my pets, I love her, I still love her. I love the calmness, I love gloomy skies, I love the sound of the waves, dancing trees. I love girls and I love guys. I love a lot of things but unfortunately I can’t keep everything I love. I cant love her and love calmness at the same time. It’s like loving both chaos and peace. I had to let go of some things in order to get other things. It’s a matter of priority, do I prioritize my sanity and mental health or my feelings. But I love irony, if only I could choose both chaos and peace, I would.

I hate

I hate math, really, I do hate it so much I know it is essential but I hate it it makes me think that im dumb but maybe I am. I hate it when people judge other people based on their looks. I hate it when people discriminate other people base on their skin color, gender, or race. I hate the government, I hate corruption, I hate everything that is evil. I hate it when I’m forced to do something I don’t want, I hate it when people tell me who to love, I hate it when society dictates that man is for woman and woman is for mann and I hate hate. I hate feeling hate, it makes me hate myself. This strong emotion doesn’t build up over night. Hate is made out of inequality, resentment, frustrations, anger and so i am convinced that a person who has a lot of hate in his or her heart has gone through a lot of pain. A hateful person is a person who’s hurt. So be kind even to the hateful, especially to the hateful, because they are the ones who needs love the most

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I am, I am not

I am I am who I am, I don’t know who that is, exactly. I am repressed, I am complexed, I am not perfect, flawed, but I am loved. Or so I hoped I am. I am worthy, an irony, I am creative but lazy. I don’t know who I am but these are the words I hear from other people. I am who I am I think therefore I am, I think therefore I exist. I think but I wish I know who I am. This is one of the questions that is easy but hard to answer. I can simply say I am Tellie, a lasallian and so on or this question can really make u think about your existence or your identity crisis and I am with the latter. I am funny, sociable, easy going, daring with other people, but when I’m alone, I am empty so maybe that is why it’s hard to know who I really am because all I see is… nothing its empty.

I am not I am not what other think I am. I may not know who I am but I know I’m not cruel, I’m not a bad person, I don’t ruin people, I may not know who I am but I am real. I will say the truth even when its hard. I am not good with words or math or paper works. I am not vocal with my emotions since I don’t know how to sort them out. I am not an idealist, im a realist. I am not an optimist,  im cynical.

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I Remember; I don’t Remember

I remember how you made me smile, how you made me feel loved, how you changed my views about life. I remember our 5am talks on the parking lot. i remember watching the sunrise with you. I remember our first kiss, how we would sneak in the women’s bathroom just to be alone with you for a minute. It was great, we were great. we were happy. but I still remember how cheated. i remember the pain. I remember the emotional torture you gave me and i remember the emotional torture i gave you. I remember how we got caught by your mom, i remember the broken promises you gave me, I remember everything, god i wish i would forget everything. but our memories made me who i am right now. i may not be the best version of my self yet, but I’m getting there. im not as gullible as before, not as weak as before, i am not as unstable as before. so thank you, you made me strong. thank you for making me realize my worth, and thank you, for letting me go.

I don’t remember. it’s not that i don't remember, it’s more of i don't want to remember. it works. trying to erase a certain memory inside your head, but if you think deeply, you will remember it again. though, there are things that i dont really remember. i dont remember the first word that i said, but my dad told me it was “didi” i would say that whenever i was hungry as an infant. i dont remember how i pronounced the butterfly but my dad said i pronounced it as ��batutay” and it was my favorite word before. there are things that i remember that i dont want to and there are things that i dont remember that i want to. i want to remember the first touch of my mom, the first walk i had. I dont remember how it feels to be innocent. i dont remember how it feels to believe in a god.  i bet life was beautiful when i was an infant but unfortunately, i dont remember.