DEAR FANGIRL

August 13, 2022

Dear Fangirl,

How are you doing? I hope all's well. I'm really sorry it's just now that I found the time to reply to your letters. I received the comic book you sent me a couple of months ago --- thank you, that's really sweet. I don't usually get stuff from people so this will definitely be treasured. I'd also like to thank you for constantly reading my work. I am not a big shot, you know that, and there are days when I lose my motivation to write. Whenever I do, I always think about readers like you who might be waiting for my next piece. That is, if I have any other readers aside from you. But really, thank you. Oh by the way, haven't you celebrated your birthday a few weeks ago? Sorry forgot to greet you. I'm slightly demented. Lately I have been forgetting so many things. Maybe because of age. I hope you don't feel bad.

How are things going with your design business? The economy doesn't always go well for artists like us but I do hope you're still on it, fighting a little bit harder every day. Because that's what we are made of. By the way do you already have a copy of my second book? I think they only have it at the UP and UST Press right now. But if you haven't, please don't bother. I wanted to surprise you with a signed copy I've been keeping for you but I just didn't have time to send it out by post. Funny I honestly forgot where I put it now. If I find it, I will send you within the week, I promise. Is that your same home address? Just checking as you might already have moved in with your partner. How are things going with you two by the way? Has he finished med school yet? Is that right he's taking med? Or is that law? Or engineering? I remember things have been quite rocky over the past year but you have not mentioned anything about it anymore in your last letter so I assumed you two have settled your differences.

How's your Papa doing? I hope his hypertension is not as bad as before. Wait, was that your Papa or your Mama? How could I forget. Anyway just be really strict about his/her diet. My mom's not doing any better. Did I mention to you she's also hypertensive? Or maybe it wasn't you to who I mentioned it. I don't really remember but anyway, yes she is. The doctor said she can stop her maintenance meds last year but for some reason she has relapsed. Maybe also because of old age. Whenever I think about her and Dad getting old I can't help but feel very old too. In a few years time I know I'll have my share of strokes, diabetes, Alzheimer's, or cancer, Lord knows.

I'm actually writing my third book. I plan to put it out a little early compared to how long it took before I released my second. My copies are not selling well, I was told. I don't know if it's just the boring content or people are more interested in playing Pokemon Go now. Maybe even my old readers have forgotten about me now. Perhaps I should write something more commercialized? Or I should change my pen name? Or try a nicer cover art? I'm a little pressured and going broke. It's true what they say about writers. But who cares? I love what I'm doing and I enjoy the challenge, even if there are days when I only get to eat a piece of leftover pizza and a cup of instant coffee. That's enough to last me until the next day. That is, if I even remember to feed myself that day.

By the way, I think it's payback time for you. I want you to do the cover art for my third book. I'm going home for Christmas this year and I want to discuss my ideas with you. Sir Pete lined me up for a benefit poetry reading event he's organizing that same month. I'd love to see you there. There'd be a lot of other great Pinoy writers and some nice local indie bands. Even I am thrilled to meet some of them. Third Saturday at Mow's. 9pm. Don't forget. I'll be waiting for you.

Much love and respect,
Your favorite writer

VALENCE

This is definitely the longest bus ride of my life. Traffic worsens every day but I wish at least bad luck should have spared me this day. In one of the busy intersections along Shaw Boulevard a group of public school kids were waiting to cross the chaotic pedestrian lane. I suddenly remembered getting my first beating from the next door neighbor's kids.

Typical childhood story. I was about five and like any other kids, wanted to belong. That day I brought out my remote control-operated toy car that Papa bought me for Christmas. That was my favorite treat inside the Balikbayan box he sent us that year. I marched all the way to where the other boys were playing, teeming with pride thinking that they would respect me for having something none of them have at that time. But I was wrong. Before I could even start my bragging speech, Tonio, the biggest kid who everybody was afraid of, gestured to one of his little "sidekicks" something that I didn't exactly understand. Next thing I know I was guarding the toy with my whole life. I didn't want to let go, but I was outnumbered. Instead of an incentive, the shiny little red Ferrari became a burdensome piece of junk I never wished I received at all. I ran back to the house, straight to the kitchen where I know Mama always was. She was horrified to see my black and blue face. I was crying so bad.

"Anak, why didn't you just give it to them right away?" she asked as she cleaned my wounds with wet cloth and antiseptic. 

"But that's my favorite. It's Papa's present," I justified, in between sobs.

"Papa can always buy you a new one. Next time don't play with those boys anymore. Hala, go wash yourself so we can have dinner."

That was my first taste of life's cruelty and in my mind ran so many why's that I could not answer. Why do kids hurt other kids? Why did they always want to pick on me? Why didn't I fight back? Yet, of all the questions I was asking myself, I could never forget the only thing I raised to my mother. "Mama," I said, still sobbing, "why do my tears taste salty?" I noticed a certain tenderness swept through her face. Mama smiled gently and said it was because of the presence of "sodium" and "potassium." Of course I didn't understand those big words, but she further explained these complex optical processes over dinner. Yes, to a five-year-old.

That's Mama. She always finds a way to make me completely forget about the pain I am experiencing. That's why I'm still perplexed after Tonet called me in the office a couple of hours ago.

"Hello, Tonet?" Silence. "Huy. Are you okay?"

"Kuya, ang Mama..." Silence again.

"Okay, I'd be there in an hour."

Two hours though and I'm still stuck at EDSA. Tonet kept on texting but I didn't want to open any of them. I felt like a coward, exactly how I felt the day I first tasted life's cruelty. I was just there, staring outside the gigantic bus window, trying to make sense once again of life's big concepts, like when I first heard of "sodium" and "potassium." I'm so used to life's harsh blows that I feel like I have an intrinsic positive valence for bad luck. I don't cry a lot though. When I look back, there were just two other instances my entire life when I really cried. When, instead of Christmas treats, it was Papa's body we received inside the Balikbayan box from Saudi. And when we found out Mama has terminal breast cancer. Sometimes I don't know what more can life throw at me. Today though, it gave me another.

I didn't want to cry but I could not hold it in any longer. Amidst the sound of the air condition and the faint voices of people murmuring, I just let them slide, down my cheeks, to my lips, to the edge of my chin from where it finally dropped to the bus' window sill. Like a five year old kid, I felt curious and tasted them. They didn't taste anything at all. Mama didn't tell me that tears can lose its saltiness. Unfortunately, I cannot anymore ask her why. #

MAY BOYFRIEND KA NA?

Sa darating na katapusan ng buwan, ako'y magdiriwang ng ika-isang taong anibersaryo ng aking paglisan sa piling ni Inang Bayan upang patuloy na paglinangin ang kaalaman sa ekonomiya ng agrikultura. Bukod sa aking pamilya, pansamantala kong iniwan ang mahal kong mga kaibigan at syempre huwag nating kalimutan ang aking alagang aso. Gaya ng inaasahan, nababawasan din ang bilang ng mga taong aking nakakapanayam sa paglipas ng mga buwan. Subalit, sa lahat ng mga taong ako'y kinukumusta pa rin (o kinukumusta ko) paminsan-minsan, dalawang tanong ang siyamnapu't siyam na porsiyento kong hinaharap:

1) Hi Ate ! Nakapag-adjust ka na ba sa weather diyan?

2) May boyfriend ka na?

Epic. Question. Number. Two. Yeng tetee? Iniisip ko nga, saan kaya sila nanggagaling? Masaya naman ako at alam ko ang gusto ko sa buhay ko. Explicitly ko namang sinabing nagpunta ako rito para mag-aral. Anong kinalaman ng boyfriend? Ni hindi ako tinanong kung ano na ang natutunan ko at pwede ko iuwi sa Pilipinas so far. Enebeyen. 

Napipilitan tuloy ako maging pilosopo paminsan. Kung hindi ko dadaanin sa normal na "wala pa eh" dahil di naman kami masyado close nung nagtanong to begin with, napipilitan akong maging malikhain. Sa katunayan meron na akong kaunting canned responses na naipon:

a.) 'Pag sinabihan kang magte-trenta ka na at "kailangan" mo nang bumuo ng sariling pamilya soon:

*Wow. 'Di pwedeng maiba? Inalam mo man lang ba kung anong plano ko sa buhay ko?*

b.) 'Pag in-insist pa rin na tumatakbo na ang biological clock:

*Hindi ko po hinahabol. Ktnxbye.*

c.) 'Pag sinabing choosy/mataray ka kasi:

*Eh? Kasalanan ko pa kung hindi nila ako masabayan? Namambuhay 'to oh.*

d.) 'Pag sinabing marami namang "gwapo" sa Alemanya at mabenta ang Pinay beauty sa mga Kanluranin:

*Halika 'teh, ikaw na lang dito.*

e.) 'Pag sinabihan kang tomboy ka 'ata eh:

*Affected ka? Lelz.*

f.) 'Pag tinanong ka kung bakit:

*Dahil gusto ko. [Mic drop]*

g.) 'Pag sinabi mong dahil yun ang gusto mo pero sinabihan kang bitter/defensive ka lang pero bothered ka talaga deep inside:

*[FACE PALM]*

Pero dahil kalmado naman ako (in general, by default), hindi ko pa naman nagamit ang mga canned responses ko sa kahit na sino. Kidding aside though, mahirap bang unawain kapag may mga tao (kababaihan, to be more specific) na hindi umaayon ang takbo ng buhay sa karaniwan? It frustrates me, honestly. Sa isang lipunan ng ika-dalawampu't isang siglo kung saan inaakala mong 'progresibo' na ang kaisipan ng mga tao, may bahagi pa ring maaaring hindi pa handa o hindi talaga bukas sa mga bagay na labas sa nakasanayan. Maraming impluwensiya, syempre, at hindi rin naman natin pwedeng lahatin. Nariyan ang kinalakhang pamilya, kultura, relihiyon, ang environment na ginagalawan, mga personal na karanasan, at ang exposure at access sa iba't ibang uri ng impormasyong may kinalaman sa ebolusyon ng lipunan. Nasaan ba ang ugat? Nasa tingin pa rin ba ng "modernong" lipunan sa papel na ginagampanan ng kababaihan?

Marami tayong pag-uusapan tungkol diyan. At dahil marami akong oras dahil wala naman akong boyfriend and I'm not spending my time looking for one, mas mainam pa sigurong upuan natin paminsan ano ba'ng masasabi mo sa paksang 'yan. Kalmado ako, wag kang mag-alala. Pero isang tanong pa, bibigwasan na talaga kita. #

THREE-THIRTY

You could have heard a pin drop.

3:30am --- you wished time could stop.

The inevitable first day of the week.

Daddy's already dragging your feet.

Bumpy trike ride's no cure for the drowse.

Just nap on the bus, sweet little dormouse.

But what, in truth, are wake up calls for?

For me to ring you to a new day you so abhor?

I know that last night did not go so well,

Even if lately you never cared to tell.

9:30. On the other side of the world, I sit still.

3:30. I know you're awake, ready for the drill.

Bus rides back home are but placebos,

Short whiles to slow down all your woes.

"But that's fine," I would always say,

"Just tell me what happened to your day."

They were heart-wrenching, at times very funny.

But now it takes luck for me to hear a single story.

What makes you think that silence heals?

What makes you so sure that time will reveal?

My inevitable mornings have been like your Mondays,

Slow-driving, night-blindness, on unfamiliar highways.

3:30. From the other side of the world, I just let you be.

9:30. I know you're awake. Do you still think of me? #

AWKWARD

"Hi! Bigla kitang naisip. Wala lang. :)" Wait. Masyadong feeling close. May smiley pa. Kahiya. Backspace backspace backspace. Hmmm. Eto na nga lang. "Hello". Walang punctuation mark para safe. Send.

"Uy!!! You're alive! Musta? :)" Nako. Bakit ba sinend ko kaagad yun? Baka sabihin inisip kong patay na siya. Diyahe. Hayaan mo na nga.

You're alive talaga? Ang tagal ko yatang di nagparamdam. Kambiyo konti. "Ok lang. How are you?" Keri naman na siguro yun. Generic lang. Kaso 'di ba parang ang cold? 'Di naman siguro.

Yikes, ang cold naman neto. :( "Ok naman, buhay pa rin. :)" Send. Ay wait. Ano nga ba yung huli naming usapan last year? Baka sakaling mag-warm-up pag binanggit ko. (Halungkat sa Inbox. Finds it.)  "Kumusta kayo ni [Person A]? {since di naman niya pinangalanan dahil di naman sila close kahit dati} 'Di ba magkikita sana kayo? Anyare?" Send.

In fairness, naalala niya pa yun. "Ahh, yun? Wala naman. Hindi kami natuloy. Tinawag siya ng Kalikasan." Send.

Ano daw? Joke ba yun o poetic? 'Di ko gets. Kaso nakakahiyang pa-explain, baka sabihin ang slow ko. "Ah talaga. Sayang naman. Baka hindi pa oras na magkita kayo. :)" Hala. Wala na akong masabi. Change topic. "Dun ka pa rin nagwo-work?" Kahit never naman niya binanggit sa 'kin san siya nagwo-work. >_<

LOL sa 'hindi pa oras.' "Yep. Dun pa rin. Wala namang bago. Pasok sa umaga, uwi sa gabi. Pinapayaman yung kumpanya. Ako eto, mahirap pa rin." 

"Haha same lang pala tayo eh. Corporate slaves. :P" Ayan medyo nagkukunwento na siya.

"Yeah."

":)"

":)"

---


Bahala ka na magbigay ng ending. Best ending suggestion wins the prize. :D

NEGASTAR

May kilala kang ganyan? O ikaw mismo ganyan? Hindi ka nag-iisa. Paminsan ako mismo ganyan. Pa'no, ang hirap naman kasi magpaka-"happy happy" 'pag pakiramdam mo wala nang nangyaring tama sa buong araw o buong linggo mo o buong buwan mo. Minsan pakiramdam mo ikaw yung kinakantahan ng The Rembrandts sa theme song nila ng "Friends" eh. It's like you're always stuck in second gear. When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year. Oh sige na, ituloy mo na sa chorus.

I'll tell you a little nega-story. So we've been pressured to write a research paper within 4 weeks and had to present it in mock-conference style. Right. What do I know about scientific research, writing, and presenting in front of agriculture experts? Zero. Nada. Null. We were just telling each other, the purpose of the module is for us to learn and get used to this stuff anyway. Well, getting it done once is one thing. Getting used to it is another. And hell no one ever gets used to them, we realized. It's just that AgEcon students really take things more seriously than any other specie in the campus. We have more than enough empirical evidence for that.

I was able to submit the paper and presentation file on time, and yesterday came my dreaded day. I have been used to presenting to a very critical audience in the past few years but for some reason I just can't help but still get the jitters whenever I need to give one. It was all in my head --- I have no solid scientific background, my paper had a poor structure, I gave insufficient evidence, I blabber a lot when I'm nervous, and that I'll just die in front of my advisers in the question and answer part. In my mind I was so sure that it's going to be a total mess. Hours before the real thing I noticed my hands were starting to get cold (it's 30 degrees Celsius in Hohenheim yesterday btw) and my classmates noticed I was spacing out and wasn't paying attention to the conversation. "You're nervous," they said. "Well, yeah," I just replied. But deep inside I knew I was starting a terrible panic attack. I am not able to express myself well in such state, unlike others who can just shout it all out or shake it off to the person right next to them. But I knew that if I allow myself to get deeper into that psychological state, all the weeks of my hard work will go down the drain. That's the time I started shifting gears. I've had panic attacks in the past and it was never funny or easy to recover from. So I followed my 1-2-3.

Step 1. Breathe it out. I took my phone and texted my best bud. I said "Mehn sobrang kinakabahan ako. Inhale exhale, inhale exhale, hwooh." I was literally inhaling and exhaling heavily then to keep myself from palpitating. Message sent. That calmed me down a bit. I didn't need to get a response, she knows that. I literally just need to let it all out with someone I am purely comfortable with.

Step 2. Loosen up. I excused myself from the group and said I needed to print a copy of my presentation. Truth is, I just badly needed to divert all the energy in my brain to my appendages by taking a walk. So I sauntered down the road and back and forth and back and forth for 20 minutes or so until I reached my secret spot in the campus. That calmed me down a bit further.

Step 3. Tell yourself you can. I sat down on an old wooden bench in this little park in front of San Antonius von Padua Church. There was no one around (as usual, that's why I love that spot) so I was able to continue my breathing exercise and talk to myself ALOUD a little bit. I asked myself: Who read 20+ journals and books and did all the research? I did. Who wrote the effin' paper? I did. Who made the presentation? I did. And who's going to give the presentation? I WILL. So there's no other person in the room, not even my advisers, would know anything more about it than I do. And even if they know more, hell, I am in front and I am in command. I was of course tempted to think that I'm just making up the good feeling. But if I'm just faking it 'til I make it, I would at least make it than not getting there at all. A soft breeze blew my direction and as it went past me I felt like a lot of the bad energies left me. A lot, but not all. After a short convo with the Big Guy I stood up and did what I had to do. (The rest of the story is not as interesting anymore. I was ready for the worst but surprisingly it went well. Got a good feedback for both the paper and the presentation.)

My little allegory might sound mababaw for the problems that you are facing right now. Unhappy with your job? Unemployed? Family problems?  In a rut with something or someone? Ang saya kaya magpaka-negastar. But don't take it away from you. It's part of being human to experience a roller coaster of emotions --- no one stays fully positive all the time. And hey, even seemingly positive people have their share of downs and nega-star moments. The only thing is, know when enough is enough. Most of the time we already know what to do but we just don't take that one crucial step to shift the gears. I know it ain't easy. But even big things start with a little 1-2-3. #

CUBAO

I practically grew up knowing the old Cubao. Naalala mo yung Christmas show dati sa C.O.D. 'pag malapit na mag-Pasko? Walang sinabi yung Greenhills dun, dude. Eh yung Fiesta Carnival? Nung bata ako para na 'kong nakapag-EK pag sinasakay kami ni Daddy sa chipipay na tsubibo dun. Nandun pa rin naman yung building. Shopwise na nga lang siya ngayon.

Ngayong matanda na 'ko though, for some reason, Cubao pa rin ang puntahan ko. 'Pag naba-badtrip ako at gusto ko mapag-isa, nagpupunta ako ng Cubao. Pagkatapos ko lakarin yung kahabaan ng Farmers hanggang Gateway hanggang Araneta Coliseum hanggang Ali Mall hanggang SM, uuwi na ako. 'Pag may kailangan akong bilhin, titignan ko muna kung meron sa Cubao. 'Pag trip ko maghanap ng lumang bagay, sinasadya ko yung Cubao Expo.

Ewan ko anong meron sa Cubao. Siguro una, dahil malapit lang. Isang sakay, convenient nga naman. 'Pag trip mo naman magdala ng sasakyan, mag-park ka lang sa Shopwise at bumili ng kung ano, libre na parking ticket mo. Pangalawa, dahil siguro may saktong timpla ng gulo at kaayusan, ng luma at bago, at ng ingay at katahimikan. Makikita mo yung mga jeje sa Farmers pagbaba ng MRT pero 'pag lumakad ka sa Gateway susunugin ka ng Rustans sa presyo ng mga bagay-bagay. Pumupunta lang ako dun dahil malakas yung aircon. Tsaka dahil nandun yung Fully Booked. Dati. Balita ko naging Uniqlo na raw ngayon yun. Lech. Oh well, may National pa rin naman. Na binawasan na rin daw ng isang level. Lech ulit. Pangatlo, siguro dahil simpleng tao lang naman ako. Masaya na 'kong binabalik-balikan yung mga lugar na may naaalala ako, kahit marami na rin namang nagbago. Siguro dahil sa lugar ng mga alaala, nag-iba man ang itsura, may pakiramdam na mananatili at ikaw lang ang makakaunawa.

Yeah, I'm boring like that. I'm mababaw like that. I'm ma-sentimiento like that. Masaya na 'ko sa maliliit na bagay. Supermarket hopping. Kain. Titingin kung may exhibit sa libreng art gallery. Walang katapusang lakaran. Masaya na 'kong gumagala sa mga lugar na pwede lang ako magmasid at mag-isip-isip. So, sasamahan mo ba 'ko sa Cubao pag-uwi ko? #

SUNDAY, SUMMER, STRUGGLES

Since it's a sunny Sunday I felt like playing some America as my working background. At least it makes my sad little box a lot more like home, where Sundays would be about good old music and a lot of house chores.

I'm not dealing with house chores today though. I am cramming for a presentation (only the first of three coming in the next two weeks) which I have not had a chance to finish after catching a bad flu paired with allergies this week. Apparently Hohenheim is the worst part of Stuttgart where pollen and other grass particles party the most in between Spring and Summer. Seriously, walking around campus now feels like winter --- it's really warm at 30 degrees, but white fibers keep flying all around like snow! So much for biodiversity. My allergies didn't used to be as bad back home. I don't even take anti-histamines. Now all I can do is pray for rain every day.

Yesterday I told myself I'll stay at home to get rid of the pollen party outdoors. Took some pills and slept early. Still, I woke up feeling quite groggy today, with my left brain throbbing and my right brain numbing. I'm in a coughing fit and my muscles ache like hell. Made myself some cough tea and opened my half-baked presentation and tried reading through my paper (which I am not at all happy about either) to get some details. Worse, I'm struggling with laziness and I'm trying to justify my procrastination. My professor's an a** anyway and all he cares about is your spoken English. Since nobody's a native English speaker among us, we're not anymore expecting too much. On the other hand though, I want to make good in front of my adviser. But the third struggle is, I just want to get over the d*mn thing.

And so I am at it again. Patterns, patterns, patterns. It's interesting though. In life we get to experience a lot of things, go to many places, meet a lot of people. However, we only get to maximize these encounters as much as we allow ourselves to. As for me, no matter what I do and wherever I go, I get easily disinterested after a few turns. Maybe because I'm naturally lazy. That, or I easily get contented. Is there something wrong with that? I don't even want to think about it. As one of my favorite people would always tell me, "At least you were challenged. And you learned something." Well, I'm not exactly sure what I'm learning so far, but I'm pretty much enjoying this getting-to-know-yourself-somewhere-out-there ride. One more hell of a year, baby. Oh yeah. #

NAME

"You have a beautiful name. Your parents must be big art fans." I rehearse those words in mind every time I catch a glimpse of you and I ready myself to talk about something in case I get caught in a situation where I am forced to strike a conversation. I was thinking that art would be most likely the thing we would have in common. I'm not a hardcore fan though, save for some mainstream painters. I don't even know much about the painter with the same name as yours except literally for his name. The conversation would not be forced, however. I always wanted a small talk with you. The first time you walked in and got introduced, I just smiled and said to myself, "wow". Something about you intrigues me. Was it just your name? I wanted so much to find out.

No small talk ever happened though. I thought maybe I just wasn't fit enough to be in your intellectual world. Going six years forward from that first encounter, I discovered you weren't named after that painter at all. And nor did your parents give it to you. That small talk, if it happened, must have been very embarrassing then. But maybe not. Because I could have carried on asking you to tell me more about you, instead of hearing just a faint "yes, thank you" from you. But it was not bound to happen.

Today, I'm still thrilled to call you by your name. It gives me the chills. It rolls into my tongue like soft fresh snow in the early morning. It paints my lips into a smile like seeing a warm sunrise from a breathtaking skyline. It's beautiful. It suits you perfectly. Sometimes, when I get carried away, I tend to call you by some other names. You don't like any of them though. But maybe that's fine. With every letter pronounced the way you said it should be, I pronounce the deepest emotions that no other name in this world can replace, no matter how sugar-coated they may sound. Your name is the sweetest. Your name is my weakness. Because when I call you by your name, I know you're the only one. #

I WRITE TO THE WORLD THE THINGS I CANNOT WRITE TO YOU

I haven't written much since we started "talking" again. 

Or I don't know if it's just because I've been starting to shift my craft from creative to academic-slash-scientific writing. The direction I am taking right now is pretty much a hundred and eighty degrees turn, as they usually say. I have been accustomed to using words as an escape, a weapon, or simply an extension of my restless thoughts. But now that I'm veering away from the very form that most people have quite "recognized" me with, I somewhat fear that along the way I'm also starting to lose the very connection where we started with. 

Or maybe that's just me being too nostalgic. But you see, I've been a fan of your work, and so have you been mine. We've existed in each other's world, but without the other knowing fully the real context behind those hard-thought metaphors. And although you've already taken down most of the stuff where I solely relied upon to update myself with what's happening to you back then, there still are days when I wish I can just walk down "memory lane". I have a penchant for looking back at the past, and re-reading our rare conversations every time sheds a light to some of the puzzles that I've always had a hard time living with. It's like browsing through a dusty photo album of an old friend. It's like watching those '90s home videos in VHS. It makes my heart smile and cry at the same time. 

Even with our new-found proximity, there still are times when I cannot bring myself to put into words --- yes, the very words that I have tried to shape in my own form all these years --- some things that I want to say or ask or scream to you about. It is at these times that I find my art both a blessing and a curse. Just as when most would probably think that it should be relatively easy, it is actually when it is hardest. That's why I just write to the world the very things that I cannot write to you. Scribbles of hopes, of dreams, of assurances, and of silence. Hoping that someday when you read back, since you've sworn that you're my biggest fan and I'm pretty sure you're going to find a way to read them, you'll get to realize that the world I'm trying to talk to is nothing but you. #