That feeling when…

You think you know someone, then they surprise you. In a good way. When you’re so happy but you’re just too scared to be really really happy. When you like talking to someone, being with someone, and you know things are great but your mind is telling you that patience is important and a spur-of-the-moment decision can ruin a lifetime. When the only thing holding you back is yourself, and you think you’re doing the right thing but your heart can’t control your mind sometimes so you end up being in the wrong. When you are with the right person but the timing is just not right and all you can do is wait for yourself to be ready, and be calm, and be okay. Like okay okay. When everything is like a disaster, but it’s a beautiful disaster, and you just want to get stranded in that chaos. Maybe forever. When you think you’re just trying your best not to hurt anyone but the truth is, you don’t want to hurt yourself so you play it safe and now you’re caught in your own game and it’s not even a game anymore. When you argue with yourself thinking that being content is much more okay than being happy and right now you’re content and you think you’re okay with that but you know this will end sooner or later. When you’re fraught with concern, confusion and indecisiveness but even with all these overwhelming emotions, you know you’re in the right. Even somehow. No matter how slight. You have to believe that you’re right so you can be in the right track. That feeling of being overpowered by your own emotions but in the end, they all coalesced into something beautiful and it gives you a little bit of peace. Like having butterflies in your stomach but you know those butterflies have really very pretty wings so you’re okay with that.

Oh my God. This feeling.



We were just sitting there in front of the small sari sari store. We borrowed three monoblock chairs, one for each of us, and shared one bottle of soda because we were all broke. We bought cigarettes, but only a couple, to kill time and hunger. We took drags idly; the smoke occasionally perturbing the chill of the night, but we didn’t mind. All we needed were stories. Our conversations were light but they weigh. As I was sitting there, below the street lamps, along with strangers, and above the cold pavement, I realized how much I was missing.

Life is good, but I’ve forgotten how it’s so beautiful. I didn’t take the time to appreciate moments like that. The pleasure of taking my time in my own pace has become foreign. It’s amazing how the world can speak to us in ways we don’t expect, like helping us feel the feelings we’ve already forgotten by experiencing something so commonplace. At times I get busy searching for meanings and explanations concerning my life. Little did I know that what I was looking for is inside me all along, just waiting to be discovered.

If Paris and NY were men, Paris would be more like the romantic guy that opens the door for you before you get into a car, you know, that guy who is so charming and perfect in every way, the safe bet, he almost seems too perfect… New York however, would be the guy that just comes and sweeps you off your feet, that guy who takes your breath away, literally… The one you meet and almost instantly fall in love with, the one who is very difficult to trust but even more difficult to forget, that is New York, so let me ask you something, who would you take, Paris or New York?

Day Nth

When I think of you, a plethora of images come bursting inside my head. They come in torrents, in hurricanes, that if I will not come into my senses it will swallow me whole. They are images I used to hate, but I have learned to nurse them, own them, those images you have playfully portrayed. And in time, I came to love them. I came to accept that beneath the exterior I have known from afar, lies vulnerability, innocence, and mistakes.

I cannot fathom how you manage to throw my words into thin air, how you burn your promises and comfort me with its ashes and still, I stay. I will always remember the night that you chose not to choose me and still, I chose to wait and sit, sit, sit. I sit in the cold, cemented bench while I try to make something out of your gestures, out of your words. Your absence told me to abandon everything, but your hands, those hands who have held me so gently when I’m frail, told me otherwise.

Continue reading “Day Nth”

I’m Sorry I’m A Christian – Chris Tse

I am a Christian. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for the way that I come across

So fair and faith friendly and full of myself

Judging your spiritual health by

the words that you say

And the way that you dress, and the things that you do

Or maybe just judging you.

I’m sorry for the way that I live my life

So confident of my own beliefs that

I would never even think to think about thinking about yours

I’m sorry for the wars.

Ivory clad Crusaders mounting steeds and drawing swords

With such a spirit that if The Spirit spoke they wouldn’t hear

But you see the sword of the spirit was not a sword but the Word

And the Word was with God and the Word was God

And they preached this as they marched on the Holy Land

Singing and Praying and Killing and Slaying

And purging and healing and raping and stealing

It’s ironic that they lined their pockets in the name of God

Just like the priests who line their pockets in the name of God

Just like the people that you can’t stand, because they always raise their hand

And spread their faith and hate and judgment in the name of God

I’m sorry that I take God’s name in vain

Or rather I’m sorry that I stain the name of God

Defending my selfish actions as selfless actions pertaining to the will of God

I’m sorry for being intolerant

For trying to talk down to you

For trying to talk over you

For not letting you talk

I’m sorry for not walking the walk

For being a hypocritical critical Christian

Criticizing your pagan lifestyle while my lifestyle styles itself

Just like the televangelist’s hair

All slick and sly and slippery

As the silver syllables slide their way into your ear

But see that’s my greatest fear

That the steps I take won’t match the words I speak

So that when I speak all you hear of me

is a weak hypocritical critical Christian

Doing one thing, but saying another

Loving my friend, but hating my brother

It’s a show.

I’m sorry I get drunk on Saturdays

and go to church on Sundays to pray

for my friends who get drunk on Saturdays

And on that note,

I’m sorry for making the church about the pews and the cross

And the walls and the steeple

Because see, the building is not the church

The church is the people

I’m sorry that I hate you because you are gay

I’m sorry I condemn you to hell because you are gay

Instead of loving I jump to hatred

Mouth open and tongue preaching

Eyes open but not seeing that you are the same as me

Just a fucking human being

I’m sorry that I only hang out with Christian friends

And we do nice Christian things

Like pot luck dinners and board game nights

While in the night a man beats his girlfriend again

Another homeless man died again

Is this the way that my own crowd has been?

But here I am with the same friends again

But see what I always forget is that Jesus didn’t come

to hang out with the priests and the lords.

No, He hung out with cripples and beggars and whores


I’m sorry for history

For native tribes wiped out in the name of the church

Lodges burning Stomachs churning and yearning for justice

And mothers screaming and pleading

Pleading for the young ones

As they are dragged away to church schools

Where they were abused

I’m sorry for the way that I refused to learn your culture

Instead I just came to spread the Gospel

And the plague

I’m sorry that I stand at the front doors of abortion clinics

Screaming at fifteen year old girls as they enter

Instead of waiting at the back door to hug them as they leave

I’m sorry for taking my wars and my faith to your lands

When historically it was on your lands that my faith was born

And in the face of the storm, I realize that

If God is Love and Love is God

Then why are we shooting instead of sharing?

Why are we launching instead of learning?

Why are we warring instead of walking together?

Why are we taking instead of talking together?

Why are we bombing instead of breaking bread together as brothers?

You see, I think that God looks down and He’s sad

And from His right hand throne above

Jesus asks where is the Love?

And if it takes Wil-I-Am and Justin Timberlake

Asking that same question for us

To start asking that same question

Then where the fuck are we headed?

So I will take this stage to be my chapel

And this mic my confession booth

And in the presence of God, the few, the proud,

and the blessed I confess, that

I am a Christian. I’m sorry.