Never Love A Writer

Never date a writer for she will always remember all the things you did and did not do. She will also remind you of the things you should have done.  She might subtly convey the ideal man you never were. She will not ask you to be one, but she will always let you feel how much she wanted such a man. She will always remember how her heart almost jumped when you asked her on your first date. She will excite you with age-old books, great books murdered into movies, and heartfelt songs more than your next date. She will bore you with detailed narratives of what went wrong with her day and how her hope sank because of it.

She will laugh with you at your stupidest times, but she would love you just the same. She will never forget that first time you held her hand. All you’ve been through is shelved in her mind and carefully written on her notes. She will have her books. And her constant companion — notebooks with doodles of a funny version of you and your name beside hers. Random thoughts about you are carefully written on the margins of her books. Her hands will always be filled with blots of ink not nail polish and posh accessories. She might not have time to put on make-up just to be on time for a meeting because she has been engrossed into a literary masterpiece or some writing madness. She might even skip classes for it. But will always cope up. Her eyes will always be carrying those two bags. Yes, those two scary bags under her lovely eyes. Because she always gives liberty to her thoughts and emotions even if it’s already two in the morning.

She will always listen to your stories even if she finds it uninteresting. She will fake a smile and force herself to nod even if she wants to interrupt you and divert the topic. She will look at you in the eyes as if telling you that you are the handsomest man, but what truly occupies her thought was your wrong grammar spoken a minute ago. She will ask you to sit with her, not to be intimate but to explore the feeling of being close to someone so she could write about it. She will always remember how you leaned your face to hers, how you held her back, touched her lips, and felt the rush in heart. She will write a poem for you when she feels like, especially when you make her feel so loved, but more often when she’s down, miserable and vulnerable. She would always be thrilled to experience new things. It may be with you or without you.

She will fondly remember how you held her hand and awkwardly swayed into the music on your first dance. The way you look into her eyes is embedded in her memory. She will always recall how uneasy you were. She will always have that picture of you looking and admiring her from afar –how you can’t take your eyes off her. And on how you were mesmerized by her beauty on that white dress.

Never fall in love with a writer for you will never be the one thing in her mind. You see, she is enchanted by her thoughts, what comes into it, with hundreds of themes circling her brain, what literature to read, what to write, how to write, how to constantly combat the peculiarities of writing and living life. You might not just try to fall in love.

Take my heed, reader. Even if you fight, she will always be inspired. Her books are her constant companion. If she’s in the mood, she will write about what you argued. Or who knows she might even post it on her blog. Even if you don’t see often she will always suit herself in reading Tolkien, Garcia-Marquez, Neruda, Poe, O’Hara, Shakespeare or Austen. Even if you can’t help but flirt with other women, she will not nag you for doing so. Know that she is good at concealing her emotions and sealing her lips. She will always try to understand, but she will never tolerate.

Never love a writer for you might end up hurting yourself. She might have had imagined your engagement and wedding day. She might have led her mind on your vacation trips. She might have written chapters of your life together. She might have foreseen the two of you getting old. She might have envisioned you dying before her and overcoming loneliness. She might have, but that is all. For she will always be preoccupied of endless possibilities in the world, with or without you.

Never love a writer, lest she loves you more than her books, rich imaginations, impeccable skills, and passion. Never love a writer lest she tells you she is willing to spend the remaining half of her life with you. Never love a writer lest you know that deep within her heart, there is YOU.

But never fall out of love for her when you have at least one reason to love her . . . forever.



Tonight is so wonderful I couldn’t even pen the right words. I am both terrified and happy.

Purpose. Joy. Silence. Peace. Anticipation. Risks. Could they suffice the burst of emotions within?

I really have nothing to say to [my] readers. I just wanted to write these silly words only you and I could understand. For someday, somehow you’ll get to read this. And be convinced how crazy I am.

So before this night ends, what I really wanted to say was, “It is amazing how you bring joy in my heart and how you effortlessly make me laugh . . .”

Where Am I Exactly?

I woke up today realizing that I have no definite plan. The only thing that is clear to me is that I am made for God. That my life is meant to glorify His mighty name.

(For those close to me, it is not new that I would like to organize and write stuff. I am a dreamer. And a mind wanderer. I’d like to plan and list the things I’d love to do and places I would go. Oh, the places I would go!)

Whatever I do, wherever I am or wherever I will be, I am to live for Him. I am one of those who prepares the way for His second coming. I do believe in my heart that it is my call in the Kingdom. And my heart says that I am to reach out to other nations and do my best to share the gospel and equip them. This, I feel is so big. But He is already there. I just have to jump in and take a big leap of faith!

Now I am in my hometown and serving with our local church. It is supposed to be a lot easier to share the gospel and reach out to people. However, things are different. People have grown cold even with the idea of God. They are full of the knowledge about God, but lack personal encounter. God has specifically placed me in this situation to test my faith and intensify my commitment to Him.

Everyday I face obstacles especially within myself. My heart is aching. I have this holy discontent. I can feel deep within that His Spirit is beckoning me to GO OUT! He is shouting,  AWAKE, AWAKE! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

If I cannot conquer my heart, how will I be able to be an instrument in putting cold hearts into fire?

It pains me so much.

Sometimes it is easier to take part in the church ministry and carry out assignments. But the call of God and the process towards it requires not just to DO THINGS, but to BRING HEAVEN ON EARTH.

The call is to REPRESENT THE FATHER in this fallen word. As His daughter, it is my privilege and responsibility.

I have reached the point where I think I AM OK. Yeah, I convince myself that nothing is wrong. I do my devotions, wake up everyday and attend the dawn prayer meeting, conduct a small group, visit the campus, and connect with other people. As you can see, I am pretty busy. 😉

BUT is that it? Have you asked yourself that the things you do is the end in itself? Does it satisfy you at all?

I strongly believe that the things we do does not define us. It will never have the power to define who we are. If it has, I would rather die now.

I believe that God is calling me to restore what was lost. That is the very core of my relationship with Him.

For intimacy was no more.

Yes, I talk to God and pray often. Yet my heart feels a little empty. I feel Him inside of me but I feel that there is something missing. I feel lost within myself.

I don’t know what exactly is that. All I know is that He has placed a deep want in me to dig deeper; to grow inside His heart.

Isn’t that beautiful? The God of the universe is calling me to grow inside His heart.

We all know that growth is a lifetime process. Maturity doesn’t stop somewhere in the middle of having assignments, taking responsibilities, and becoming like Him. There is so much more.

Thus, I embark on this unknown journey. As I enter into rest, I do believe that intimacy will be restored. From there, He will lead me to where I should be and guide me on what I must do. Everything will be clearer. I am certain that He is putting things together in my life.

The invitation is not for me alone. It is for you as well. I am more convinced that it is not about the plans, but THE ONE WHO PURPOSED EVERYTHING ACCORDING TO HIS GLORY.

So, where am I exactly?
Well, I’m digging a little deeper INSIDE GOD’S HEART.

No more plans, just PURE LOVE.




How about you, what was the first thing on your mind when you woke up today?

Where do you think He is leading you?



My eyes are filled with tears. I dislike and love this feeling. Your lingering presence inside of me is intoxicating. My heart will explode any moment. For so long I’ve suspended this time. I was trying to let go of myself and keep you at bay. I’ve dismissed your words like the daily news. I’ve no regard of its power nor benefit on me. I’ve ceased to care.

But you keep on whispering love. That still small voice caught me. I believe in you. I adore you. I love you with all of me, but I am tired of disappointing you. I think I have become a secret disgrace on your perfect soul. But you won’t buy my excuses and pathetic soliloquies.

You’re not like that. You are genuine. You are here to wipe the tears from my eyes and ease my heart.You had me once again.


Last Wish

I want to walk with you
Not the kind of ordinary walks made by ordinary people
Let us walk when the moon is still up
The stars still bright, like every four in the morning
When everyone’s still lying in bed

I want to walk with you
Not on ordinary pavements or at some crowded park
Where ordinary people come and go
Let us go and stroll at some strange island
Overlooking unknown horizon, against sharp winds

I want to walk with you, I really do
To hear your heart beat next to mine
To feel our hands dance in the rhythm of tide
To free our senses from the bars of the past
Fall on a trance we shall call romance

I want to walk with you
To see your face in the silent moonlit
To crack jokes only us understands
To seize this waking moment
We shall call ours

I want to walk with you
No one else but you
I don’t care what else we’ll do
We can let the time pass by tasting the morning dew
Or walk a mile ‘til our feet become sore

I want to walk with you
Without a care of the world,
Free from work,
Away from the city,
Quieted by the sea

I want to walk with you
Unlike ordinary walks we did for the last five years
Where we used to chase time, catch our breath,
And seize naught.

I want to walk with you
Unlike ordinary people like us
But like some crazy old friends–
Without care, drunk with laughter,
And perhaps, truly happy.

I want to walk with you, my dear
You know I really do
If we could have cheated death
And escaped time,
This last wish will surely be mine.

Unspoken Feelings

“. . . tranquillity was no more. My world had for

some years been in L-: my experience had been of its

rules and systems; now I remembered that the real world

was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations

and excitements, awaited those who had courage

to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life

amidst its perils.”

Charlotte Bronte



I look at you and see the stars in the night sky. I feel the cool breeze embracing my body. I look at you and feel the warmth of the sun in your face. Your eyes, they are deep and riveting. Like that of the ocean where I can dive and loose myself.
I look at you and found who I am. A single unexpected collision in space. And I’m lost. Forever.