whenlifeisscaryanddepressing

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

A message to my American brothers and sisters whose candidate lost this election:

Firstly, I am neither American nor did I vote for your election so do take what I say with a grain of salt.

I’m writing to you guys because I know how you feel. I’ve been there.

During the 2020 Presidential election of the Philippines, I too supported a movement. Not a candidate—a movement. A female presidential candidate who raised hope, became a champion for marginalized communities whose only goal was to create opportunities to shift my country away from the vitriol that came from a previous president who strong armed my country into a bloody war on drugs that saw the death of thousands of poor people.

And like you, I lost.

With the spread of misinformation and lies, my country elected the son of a dictator who proved himself to be the ineffective, incompetent and dishonest leader we all secretly hoped he wouldn’t be.

Our hopes dimmed.

Tears were shed.

Resentment flowered in us like a storm.

It was difficult to swallow the results of an election that had so much at stake. You see, like your President-elect, our current President spent millions of pesos contesting a fair election that saw him losing out to the vice presidential position during the previous election.

Through bullying and intimidation, he sought to undermine a fair election that took him out of power.

And like your current President-elect, he still managed to win at the end.

It would have been easier to accept the results had it not been for the mocking of 31 million Filipinos who voted our current president into office.

We all heard them tell us, “You’re crying over an election? You need better things to worry about.”

I want you to know that it’s okay to cry.

Your frustrations and disappointment are valid.

It is rare to find a candidate you’re able to place so much hope in and to have that hope dashed away is a bitter pill that is difficult to swallow.

I know, you’re probably tired of hearing it.

“Turn the other cheek.”

“Accept it and move on.”

“It is what it is.”

“There’s nothing more to do.”

It’s okay. I’m tired of it too.

I know you’re probably scared and angry and so, so, so tired. Two years after our election and I am still all of these things.

I still think about the what if, the what could have beens. I think a lot about how better off we would have been if the right person won.

I want you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to mourn those things.

You did your part. You voted and you campaigned and you fought hard. Sometimes, we just lose.

If there’s any advice I can impart, it’s that I hope you take your frustration, your sadness, you exhaustion, your anger, and turn it into righteous fury.

Take that fury and do something with it.

Because the movement cannot stop here. The moment we stop fighting, they win.

To lose hope means victory for the other side.

I get it. It’s easier to get mad at the people who voted for him. It’s even easier to spew the same vitriolic hate towards them when they start complaining about how things don’t change and how your country is worse off but theirs is the vote that put a wannabe-dictator in power.

Don’t do it.

Because that divide is precisely why they keep winning. It’s the same divide they sowed into my country and we are still struggling to fight that division everyday.

Losing this election is a step backwards but losing hope would be another step back.

Even to this day, my presidential candidate continues to inspire hope for change in my country.

I know yours will too.

It’s not the end.

I need you to remember to breathe.

Breathe in the hope you desperately fought for;

breathe through the hurt of the loss;

and breathe out the fear they so badly want you to feel.

The road is long and it’s scary.

But there’s about 50 or so million other people on that road with you. You might not be the majority but even David was small when he killed Goliath.

Cause if you voted for Kamala Harris, you already know you have the courage and righteous fury to fight for change and you cannot give up now that you’re so close.

You lost the battle but it’s not the end of the war.

So tonight, grieve. Cry. Hug your friends and family who are right there with you. Be sad and mourn the loss of what could have been.

Because tomorrow, when you wake, you will continue fighting for change.

Because no one else will.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I feel like I’m standing behind a camera while I watch my life go by.

All I can do is watch and wait for the perfect moment to capture and remember.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I like my solitude but I yearn to love and be loved.

I want to be with someone who feels for me so deeply that he crushes all the self-doubt in my body, leaving more room for him to consume.

I want to be with someone I can write my poems about.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I often wonder if my children in a previous life are glad of the life I am living now. Are they proud that instead or bending over stoves, I am bending over books? Would they be happy that I get to see the world as it is rather than through the lens of my dreams? Would they be glad that though I loved them in my previous life, I do not have any intentions of loving them in this one?

I hope they are.

I’ve always felt like I have lived my life for others. I hope in this one, I can finally live my life for me.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I stand by this now that the whole man vs bear debate is ongoing

When I die, I hope heaven is full of animals. I can’t imagine paradise to be real if I can’t at least hug a polar bear.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

Life is sink or swim but all I do is drown.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I am strong, independent woman but my god, I wish someone would tell me they like the way I laugh.

I am strong, independent woman but my god, I wish someone would hold my hand.

I am a strong, independent woman but my god, I wish someone would walk on the side closest to the road for me.

I am a strong, independent woman but my god, I wish someone would tell me I have pretty eyes.

I am a strong independent woman, but my god, I wish someone would me feel like I was worth their while.

I am a strong, independent woman. I can take care of myself, and I have for most of my life. But sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have someone take care of me.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

The one thing that could have saved Eve, the fruit of knowledge—the thing that which could have helped her discern truths from falsehood, good from evil—was the thing that damned her to spend the rest of her life in abject misery.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I just watched a tiktok of old fashioned lighters. None of the plastic ones we know today but the kind of lighters that sparked and fizzled and could make you gasp in shock and delight.

And it just got me thinking. When did we as a society decide to stop liking beautiful things? When did we, as a society, decide that streamlined minimalism is the way to go?

I mean, I get it. No one really needs a lighter shaped like a heart and the small plastic ones are cheap, accessible and they do the job.

But human beings used to see art and beauty everywhere, even in something as small as a lighter. When did we snuff that spark of imagination?

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

When I die, I hope heaven is full of animals. I can’t imagine paradise to be real if I can’t at least hug a polar bear.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I haven’t really posted a lot on here cause life’s been good lately.

I’d forgotten what that felt like.

I hope I never forget again.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

The holidays can be such a tiring time for people who belong to toxic families.

There’s always the desire to be grateful that you have a family to spend the holidays with in the first place but also the innate need to get away from them because of how draining it is. They chip away at you, at your patience and your self confidence. They gaslight you and manipulate you until you come away from the interaction feeling like you’re in the wrong even though they are.

When you belong to a toxic family, you always come away from the interaction exhausted and leaving them gives you a sense of relief that you can finally breathe and recharge. So spending just a day or two with them is fine.

But with the holidays comes the expectation to spend every minute of everyday with them and genuinely it is the most exhausting feeling cause you can’t get away from them. You can’t leave them. You’re stuck. No matter how much you want to leave, you can’t because it’s the holidays. You have to be there because “it’s the holidays”.

So please, if you have a friend or someone in your life who belongs to a toxic family, give them some words of encouragement. They need it.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

One day, I will look back and laugh.

One day, I will see healed scars and rather than remembering the pain, I will marvel at how such a little thing had once caused me pain.

One day, I will see the way flowers grew around the ashes of my heart, see life when there was once none, be in awe of the fact that I am here.

One day, I will see where the axe once struck, see where the sap once leaked like heavy rain from me, and wonder at how it could have turned into hard, beautiful amber.

One day, I will see where the hard fiber had turned into soft cotton, where the blank canvas has turned to art and where the anger turned to beauty and hope.

One day I will see it and I will laugh.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

What is it about human beings that make them think they're so undeserving?

It's something I noticed about myself recently. Every time I want something beautiful, I always think to myself, "This is not worth it. You are not worth it. You are not good enough for this. You have done nothing to deserve this nice thing that you want."

But if it had been someone else, a friend or my sister or even an acquittance, asking me if they deserve something, my answer would be an automatic, "Yes."

Because I know that, just like me, they're doing their best.

They're trying, giving everything that they could just to live. They should have nice things, something beautiful, to commemorate the fact that yes, they are here. They are alive and they are deserving of everything good and beautiful in this world.

So, I am writing this post to remind people that yes. You are alive. You are trying your best. You are a wonderful human being. You are deserving of every good and beautiful thing in this world.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I went on a self date today after a friend of mine cancelled on me at the last minute. I’d already gotten ready, had fixed my hair and already done my makeup. I thought, “what a shame to waste all this effort,” so I went out by myself.

I wouldn’t have been able to do this five years ago.

There’s a certain sense of pride that I have for the progress that I’ve made to be confident enough and love myself enough, to not feel shame for being alone.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

Sometimes I think, “God, I want to be thin. I want to be rich. I want to be this, I want to be that.”

Then I remember how terribly miserable life is. How little time we have on this earth and how much of it is spent working a futile job that brings you no happiness before you find yourself bed ridden, sick with a disease that has no cure, and every regret in your life filling your head.

So, eat that thing you’ve been craving. Buy that perfume you’ve been thinking about none stop. Get that iced coffee that’ll give you that perk in your step. Buy the ankle boots that you think ties one outfit together.

Life’s too short not to find any joy in it. We’re here for a simple, finite moment in time so, we might as well have a good time before there’s no time at all.

[whenlifeisscaryanddepressing]

I used to think that I inherited my anger from my father.

Quiet and seething. This was the anger of war drums and explosions.

Now I know my rage came from my mother.

Deep and guttural. It is the rage of the bible, of flooded streets and the death of children. My anger is the tiny kettle whistling its merry tune until it burns you.