there is something appalling about kissing you intoxicated because my head is buzzing and my lips are numb ‘til they’re up against yours. and then we’re eyes closed with bated breaths. feeling stars in my fingertips when i touch your neck and i don’t think i’ve ever felt as parched as when you pulled away a second too soon and when i realized that was all cheap vodka was ever good for.
—  m.r.s., puberty blues

1.) i’ve never had my stomach hitch so far up my throat like that. you were ice cold for days; you were blocking some other girl’s way; you were wearing the shirt you had on when we first kissed. i hope she smells me on you. i hope you dodged the daggers i looked at you with. i want them back.

2.) friends? i’ve traced every inch of your back with my fingers that never stopped feeling for more. i’ve weaved secrets on the underside of your jawline, grazed your neck with my eyelashes. friends? i’ve dug into your hipbones so deep i lost the meaning of ‘going too fast’. friends? my knees only know the ridges of your fingertips, my shoulder blades only recognize the curve of your smirk. i’ve labeled us lost. friends? this is not what friends do.

3.) it’s been two weeks since i found out you were moving continents. our best day; we were parked for an hour where we weren’t supposed to. you asked me about glory holes. i cackled in disbelief, talking about the movie that corrupted my tiny, 8-year-old brain. you breathed “keeper”, laughing at both our weird sides. i stretched into the driver’s seat ignoring the steering wheel digging into my neck, the parking brake stabbing at my sides. i’ve built a home from the middle of your chest down to the crevices of your rib cage. i’ve never laughed and heaved so hard in my life. comfortable is good.

4.) you talked about your family on a Tuesday. you came all the way from the courts and we sat on tiled steps as i measured the space between us with my thumbs. i can’t count the times your lips twitched upward, your mouth passed sighs, or your lungs gave out in frustration. i timed my words with yours and hung on all of your musings. your hands didn’t know what to hold and your eyelids didn’t falter for a second. “i’ve never talked about this out loud before.” this was yours. you will prove them wrong.

5.) your TV was on a bit too loudly. you turned 18 on the 18th and i could hear your mother laughing about something crude your uncle said from all the way downstairs. you traced circles on my arm and worked your way from my forehead to my cheeks, kissing everything but my parted lips. “give in and you lose” you proposed. they were calling for us to greet your guests but the hurricane started not too long after and i searched for my will in your pillows and under your sheets but only came up with bruised lips, short breaths, purple necks. happy birthday, loser. but i gave in far before you even realized it.

6.) i had to catch my flight, i told you. my mom’s going to kill me, i told you. you were worried about the boys. i was worried about the time. you’ve been at this for weeks, scaring me with “like” and phrases you never finished; my brain halted every time. you whispered it, laced it in your laughter, hissed it through your teeth, testing the taste of it on your tongue over and over to get my wide-eyed look of horror every time. you won. every goddamn time. everything went quiet when you finally coaxed it out of your chest at the backseat of your dad’s car. “i love you”, cupping my face ‘til your eyes mastered the uneasiness of my irises. i did not flinch. you were sure, you told me. i did not flinch. i have not moved since then.

7.) our favorite, i remember. you skimmed through my poetry against my knowledge; it was about the boy i no longer look for in the front steps of every building. you were jealous of a ghost but i have stopped pumping my veins with the bitter taste of the answers i never got. read this now, these firsts that i am trying to build a body out of. because you are not sweaty palms and queasy bellies; you were never awkward glances and anxious thoughts; never the 3 am weed-induced slurs to the moon. i have stopped lining my writing with the absence of closure, stopped dousing all these letters with spite. you are 10 am drives around the city killing time we don’t even have; you are 2 am sleepy sighs, drowsy murmurs, the phone lines that dispatch our nocturnal conversations about the hours we didn’t spend filling each other’s space. read your being echo through mine. read this knowing you are the fog in my head; the marks on my collarbones; the relief when we stopped trying to be ‘just friends’. i have paused the thought of stable hands, stable inhales—exhales, stable sparks seeping into my bones way before i knew you could ever hit ‘play’. you are the steady pulse under my skin; you are constant; you are comfort.

—  m.r.sfirsts 

and baby i know i know
i know you’re picking fights and losing your head because your heart’s stretching the distance we’ll have between us soon
and i know it makes your knees ache when you’re holding onto them like
a tether when your house only feels like a museum of all the things you’ll leave behind
and baby please know please know
please know i meant it when i said that i would be your soundboard
for every slur you had to fight back in front of your dad when he talked about flights over dinner
for every “so you’re leaving her? poor girl”
for every “why? everything’s so good around here”
for every “but you won’t be here for that, will you?”
for every “long distance love is a long shot, bud”
for every bullshit excuse they thought would keep you around longer
for every phrase we’ve heard one too many times

echo it all off on me baby, i don’t mind
and if you need to rest your head against the crook of my neck this time, i’ll let you
so baby please do
scream until your lungs feel like fire because god knows how long you’ve been keeping fumes inside your chest and you know it’s not healthy to bite down your blazing tongue
and i won’t even say a single thing if you don’t need me to because i’ll be too caught up in fanning the smoke away from your clouded eyes anyway
and i’ll listen to every gas-lit rhetoric you send my way and i’ll be water-ready, baby

tell me
tell me all about what you’re scared to leave behind
and the shadows you’ll cast and ties you’ll have to cut
tell me
tell me all about the cold you don’t want to have to dress up for and the faces you’ll have to make nice with
about the Fridays we can’t spend tracing each other’s veins—or the walks we can’t take in crowded streets
tell me that you’ll miss the scent of my hair because baby i’ll miss yours too
and please just tell me
tell me that you’ll miss teasing me about sweating through my shirt in classes we’ve been caught holding hands in
because i need this baby
i need to tell you how much i’ll miss your scent following me around in buildings we’ve never been to together as i cling on to the 3rd jacket i’ve stolen from you
i need you to know how much i’ll miss how miniature my hands look wrapped around yours
and the asian noodle place i probably won’t have the strength to go back to after you’ve gone

and we’ll heave through the smoke if we need to
and choke through the tears if we have to
because at least we won’t do it alone
and i don’t ask for a lot,
i don’t ask at all
just that—
you’ll stop counting down the milliseconds we have left to fill each other’s days
or weeks we’ll spend seeing each other through letters on a phone screen and pixels on a monitor
and start counting early morning caffeine fixes and and bear hugs instead
count side-lipped hurried kisses when we’re rushing to get home
count Sunday family lunches and inside jokes
count reminiscent stoned benches during school breaks
count nights out with the best of your friends and all the shit you got caught up in
count our calls at ungodly hours—the ones spent blowing off steam; the ones spent sending each other mindless internet articles; the ones spent screaming our lungs out to middle school music we used to love
count winks, and breaths, and grins, and fingertip-touches
count me in baby
i am all in beating all 14 hours
the timezone is a myth
because you and i know how strong this waiting game is
and let that heart snap back calmly now against your chest
let the coals in those lungs cool
baby i’m all in the oceans we’ll have to learn to fall in love with
until the day we can finally cross all of them
to get to where you are

— don’t know how else to tell you that we’re 7408.99 miles strong so this is all i’ve got
About the Registration & Souvenir.

So remember the Head Of Registrations is Misha (clenchyourfists). To be able to get freebies and such you have to do the following;

  • Make sure you’ve RSVP’d (
  • On the day itself look for Misha (clenchyourfists) and then she’ll check whether or not you’ve RSVP’d or not. If yes she’ll give you freebies. If you haven’t RSVP’d she’ll give you a sticker for you to put your name and url. And if all the freebies are gone and you’ve RSVP’d she’ll give you a sticker to put your name and url. So better come early.
  • So about the souvenir, at the end of White Day Cebu Misha (clenchyourfists) will still be the one of give you your souvenir.

So don’t forgive this ok? ;) See you there. 3 more weeks to go :D.

My weapon of choice :)

Ok some of you guys know my beloved Don <3

Don is a Pentax K1000 and the lens on him is an Albinor Marco Zoom (I forgot the whole name cause I left Don in the city xD) and my other lens is this

It’s an Albinor MC Auto Zoom 1:39 F=80-200mm 55mm. It’s pretty heavy, but it’s a great barrel lens <3.

My two Flashes….

Sunpak 2000 BZ and

Albinor 50A Automatic Electronic Strobe.

So that’s my weapon of choice and Don’s equip. If your wondering Don was given to me by my uncle. Speaking of Don last Thursday me and Misha (clenchyourfists) were in Fullybooked Ayala, we were looking the comics area when someone approached me asking this my camera was canon then she saw it was Pentax and she asked where I got it because she loves vintage cameras. Wala lang sharing xD.


One of the songs I cried to when I was HS <3.

Naghihintay by: Jacob