Dear Writer’s Block…

…it’s not you, it’s me.

I don’t want to blame you and your intangible existence for my laziness. I don’t want to blame you for not giving me any creativity to write original content. And I definitely do not want to blame you for the crippling, debilitating regrets I have in my head. It is unfair, isn’t it? You, who do not have arms and legs, to be blamed by someone who are far more capable.

In fact, you should’t even be considered as someone, or something, accountable; you’re just an idea. A label. An excuse. But let’s be honest, everyone encounters you at some point. Whether it be a college student, a professional writer, you, uncalled-for and unwanted, knock on the doorsteps with your middle-finger waving in the air. Sometimes, however, more than being a pain-in-the ass, you are capable of teaching us valuable lessons.

You’re the one who reminds them that they are not perfect, that they cannot always write something substantial. You make proud people humble. You keep others grounded to their feet whenever they feel like they’re skyrocketing to Uranus. You keep us sane, you keep us humane. We are not gods and goddesses of writing, and you appear to remind us that.

You are often a blessing in disguise. You arrive during our lowest. Whenever we feel too tired to function but we don’t even realize it, you suddenly swoop in like Santa Clause on Christmas Eve. You tell us, non-verbally of course, to stop overworking ourselves and take a goddamn break. We are not machines—we are living, breathing human beings who experience fatigue and stress; both physical and mental.

But why is that we fail to realize your innate value? Why do we see you as a nuance, a pain-point, instead of seeing you as a good thing, or a challenge at the very least? You always receive the blame, but sometimes I wonder, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t it be you who should blame us for our lapses? Our incompetencies? Our lack of experience? We think too highly of ourselves and our work that sometimes we fail to strive to become better. We stop searching for new experiences because we say to ourselves “I create worlds. Therefore it is not necessary for me to dwell on someone else’s.” We stop pointing our fingers to ourselves and instead relive our previous faults and failures, thinking that we can attribute our current condition to the mistakes that our past selves have done. we become so distracted with the outside world that we forget to live in our own. we become so fascinated with the lives of other human beings that we fail to realize that we have to concentrate our attention to the characters and beings we created with our ink. They are living, waiting within the pages of the stories we wrote. It is a bit selfish to neglect them, don’t you think?

So, Writer’s Block, I’d like to apologize if ever I’ve blamed you for the misfortunes that I’ve encountered as I crawl my way to writing greatness. I was just scared of blaming myself because I know that there is no one else to condemn if I screw up. The next time we meet, I’ll greet you with a smile and give you a tight hug. But until then, let me focus on my craft, myself, and my world.

Your Friend,

Me.

Call Me Mr. Martyr

A few months ago, I stopped believing in love and loyalty. In this era, polyamory is a trend and faithfulness is a luxury. However, things changed when I tried to see the world in a different light.

I’ve started to admire happy couples, started to feel excitement whenever a friend tells me that he is dating someone. Even those who became unfaithful to their partners, I’ve started to believe that they can change, and that they’re effort to do so is something praiseworthy.

I went out a few days back with my friends. We went to this gay club in the city, a place where temptations are all around you. After a few drinks, a friend of mine initiated to make out with me. I tried to steer away but the alcohol is already flowing through my veins. I tried to gain control over myself and pushed him away since I know that he has a partner.

Fast-forward to today, his partner messaged me and asked me who started it, how long it lasted and if he kissed anyone else. At first, I told him the truth.

He was the one who approached me. I was shocked that he did but I pushed him away.”

I started to feel that he was about to break up with him. I hate seeing relationships die and I try my best to prevent two people from falling apart. So I told him a different story.

“Actually, I was the one who initiated. He was drunk and he was the nearest guy. So I thought, maybe, it was okay to make out with him.”

He got mad. Furious. He threatened to embarrass me on social media. I tried my best talk him out of it but he was persistent. I don’t know what might happen tomorrow, but one thing is for sure; I tried to save their relationship and it felt good. It always feels nice to do something for other people. And it feels even better if it’s for something or someone important to you.

Love is important to me. And I believe that there’s still love between that couple.
And sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the things we believe in.

Millenial Nostalgia

When we were kids, our parents forbade us to watch television, listen to pop music, idolize celebrities, buy magazines, and just basically be involved in anything cool. Those who were rebellious didn’t listen – but for others, they were deprived of the vein-popping music and eye-watering visuals that were offered during the late 70s up to the early 80s. It was truly a beautiful era for pop and the youth. Not just the music, but the aesthetics as well.

Now, millennials are reliving that era. They’re reinventing the previous fashion trends, reintroducing an upgraded version of electronic music, and other complicated but relatively awesome pop-culture elements.

It must have something to do with the fact that we were so isolated from the neon-lit world that we are reviving that era so that we can live in it. We want to feel liberated. We want to give ourselves the experiences that our parents deprived us of. We want to go back to the past by putting it in the present. This is our version of time travel.

Modern-day pop culture is our time machine.

Stranded In The Middle Of The Ocean

It’s 9:00PM and it’s Friday night. You take a long shower, wear your favorite perfume, put on your iconic jacket, and beat your face for the gods. It’s time to go out, to carpe the fucking noctem. You’re single and you deserve a night out. To alleviate the stress and pressure of being in a relationship. “I can do this. I’m gonna be okay” you assure your reflection on the mirror. You chat your friends, book your Uber, and hype yourself up for the surprises of the night.

As you arrive, you are greeted by the doorman of your favorite club. He says “welcome back” and you just give him a decent smile. After you enter the neon-lit venue, you then make your way through the sheer crowd looking for your friends and other familiar faces. You see them. You start to drink, smoke, and dance your sorrows away. You own the night. You. Own. It.

Then you see someone staring at you. “He looks decent” you say to yourself. As he approaches you, you are suddenly filled with excitement. This is it. You’ve made your first catch for the night. He asks you to dance with him and as you both jive to the rhythm of DJ, you see his eyes – his beautiful brown eyes. He leans in to kiss you, and you make out for more than 5 minutes. He then leaves, asks for your number, and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Another guy comes to you. And another one. And another. They all did the same thing. Dance. Stare. Kiss. Leave. This vicious cycle goes on for the rest of your night. It makes you happy, yes. It makes you feel powerful, like you’re suddenly this sought after good that everyone wants. But after tasting their lips, you suddenly feel it crashing in.

“Why won’t anyone like me?”

Total bullshit, right? You tell it to your friends, and they dismiss you. They tell you that everyone in the place is practically itching to fuck you. But you know, deep inside, that you yearn for something more. Something concrete, something meaningful, something that’s more than just lust. Something real.

As the night ends, your friends are starting to sober up. You notice that everyone is starting to leave. Some with take-outs, some without. You thought to yourself that this night would be different. That you wouldn’t be a simple party slut. But as the lights turn on and sun shines on your face as you exit the club, it dawns on you.

You’re lonelier than when you entered it.
You’re just another person, stranded in the middle of an ocean.

Sometimes We Just Want It To End

The pain is too much that it’s almost unbearable.

We’re so jealous of the people who are capable of being genuinely happy. Of the people who are constantly loved by the people around them. Why won’t it be the same for us?

Why must we suffer every night, wishing that it would be the last. Why do we pray for the our existence to end, just so it could take away the pain?

Are we selfish? Is it wrong to ask for all the hurt to go away? Is it wrong to feel sorry for ourselves? Is it wrong for us to shield ourselves from other people because we know for a fact that they will hurt us, one way or another?

Is it really a sin to end our lives? Our sad, insignificant little lives?

In a world full of billions of people, where civilians die each day, are we really that special? Are our lives really worth saving? What if we find salvation in death? Would it be valid?

Every single one of us don’t deserve pain…
Or maybe, sometimes…

we do.

The Pain Of Being Single

Have you ever felt so alone?

The nights that you just want someone to be at your side seems to be occurring more often than usual. You find yourself chatting your exes, swiping on Tinder, searching on Craigslist, watching porn and wedding videos just to make yourself feel a little warm inside. You yearn for someone’s embrace, for sweet words, for care, for attention – some of which are given to you by your family and friends, but…something is missing.

It’s that romantic feeling. It’s the bliss of knowing that you have someone special who is not obliged to be there for you, but wants to out of they’re own whim. It’s the joy that you feel that someone is waiting for you to get home. Someone is waiting for you to message back. Someone is actually considering a future with you in it. The thing is, sometimes, we don’t find that someone.

We choose It’s as if the universe wants us to be alone.

We always strive to become better for us to be deserving of a special someone. We always put our best foot forward on dates. We always fall heart first without thinking of the possible repercussions. We become love-sick idiots.

Why is it so hard for us to be loved? Deep inside we know that we deserve love. We know that we would be amazing partners and that the people who will choose us won’t regret it.

We know deep inside how pain feels, and we are more than willing to not let someone feel it.

Instead of care, we feel self-pity. Instead of a warm hug, we drown ourselves in alcohol and cigarette. Instead of love, we feel pain.

We all just have a simple wish: to either end up being with someone who will love us so purely that we will forget all the pains of yesterday or…

…to become so strong that we don’t yearn for love anymore. We just want to live. Even if it means doing it by ourselves.