Who knew I had to lose you
For me to realize
That everything I needed was right here all the time.
I’ll never forget the love we shared
No matter how you see me
Know that I loved you,
But time wants me more now.

I don’t need your approval.
Don’t need your voice.
Don’t need reassurance

I’m moving on from that kind of thinking.
I never knew I could.
There are so much more to look out now;
It’s all waiting for me.
And I think of all the others
Piled up in a cloud of dust.
I had a choice
And blew them all away.


It’s the end of the year, and I’m happy
But there is so much more out there.
Happiness is never permanent
But peace is
And faith is.


I told myself I would sink my teeth in
It’s not like I had anything to lose then
But here I am surrounded
By people,
By stories,
By controversies,
By beauty and wickedness.
In the end, all I have is myself.
Might as well, learn to live with her.


There’s no point to cutting the cord of my soul.
I’m staying.
I’m alive.
Who knew.
Who knew?
I didn’t…yet here I am.

Yet here I am.



She was wide awake in a dream she didn’t wish to end. Everything was peaceful in the way he restrains his deep voice ever so self-consciously. And yet so soothing to my ears…she was not in any position to fall in love again but in this hazy dream, she found refuge in a man connected only by a phone and voice. She found refuge in him. At this very moment.

This was not the boy she met years ago. That boy had all the talent of the writer but was unaware of his actions and his self, leading to all sorts of trouble she can only imagine. He had kept her around because she was an object of fantasy, and she knew then she was not getting in deep his life because of the box she is put in. But now, he has changed…for the better. He was on his way to becoming man, not a boy. He had a certain touch of magic with his words, mixed with an innocent brashness of a person trying to be as honest as he can. He demanded purity of himself. She thought he couldn’t get any more smartass than he is now. He was definitely clever, but in the end, what mattered was his maturity.

Like him, she was not the same girl he met years ago. She bit her lip, repressing all the thoughts of her past self. It frustrates her, somewhat, that she has painted such a dark, melancholic shadow of herself in the past years that she cannot even face it squarely. No matter, this was a different story…she shook her head in disagreement to her own self.

In the past she was a bundle of everything she despises now: childish, irresponsibly open, clouded emotional judgment and shallow to a point…Cut yourself some slack. You were a kid. She sighed and remembered that her childhood wasn’t the best one out there, nor was she sharp enough to have handled things the way she should. She was a blissful child playing with her castles in the air. That was why she found herself falling down hard on the ground. And from the fall, anyone can see that she has changed…for the better. She was on her way to believing in herself as a woman with a mind of her own. Her passion was nothing like her colleagues, her openness now within limits but nevertheless transforming her to an adventurer for her sympathies. She understood the importance of the social human and the reflecting human. She was still tactless out of habit, but in the end, what matters is the goodness of her words and intentions.

They were both oddities of the human nature, sticking out like sore thumbs in their own individuality. The world is a big place, ironically filled with the same individualistic people scattered around, but to encounter one yourself is a pleasing sight to see—and to get involved in. Even if they lived a thousand miles away from you. Even if they live in their own worlds.

When she stepped in his world, there was a certain pleasing sense of resonance. When he let her in, there was a sudden warmth he did not expect to feel. In two different worlds, they felt a connection.

But in reality, they were a thousand miles away, laying in their beds. All they need are hugs, time and things to work out.

In reality, she cannot touch him.

In reality, he cannot touch her.

Their minds both wander on a thought they wished was idle. Yet every time they shoved it away, it came back, persisting, haunting.

“Of course not. Stop assuming.”

“She probably doesn’t think of us that way.”

In the silence that hands, they both knew if they saw each other at this very second, they would kiss each other. Cautiously, tentatively, slowly…his hands would travel to her back while hers would wrap around his neck, making the kiss go deeper—

But in reality, they would be too hesitant to do anything other than to hug.


Have faith. His baritone voice muttered.

Have faith. Her hoarse voice whispered.

They imagined holding hands and facing the world head on.

But in reality, they would go their separate ways, only to meet much later in life.

And then…

Maybe then…

They both may just believe.

Ghosts and Souls

Part 2 of Human Doll

It took Penelope 3 years to realize that the man she’s been loving the whole time only saw her as an investment. It took her 3 years to cut him off, feeling a deep level of resentment and anger at herself. Why did she let it go for as long as 3 years? 3 years too late. Now she wasn’t going to let this present affair of 3 weeks slog that long.

Motoko Kusanagi could not understand her. The older woman saw Penelope as a research subject, a thing to observe and experiment, like a rat inside a cage. Penny learned of cyborgs like her having “ghosts”, which was technically equivalent to a human soul. But ghosts and souls are different.

The Major’s ghost wanted rationality, order and a sense of power. It wanders on about her identity, of surpassing what she is capable now. It was concerned with enlightenment and perfection. It doesn’t exist just as it is—it is artificial, perhaps genuine but nothing like the complexity and vulnerability of the human soul. Such is larger than life, or hidden deep beneath the surface, rumbling inside their blood. It cries out for love but indulges in chaos; it wants the self to get better but knows when to be kind to who you are now. It is passionate in the way it excites your senses, hitches your breath and quickens your pulse. It is magical, wicked and pure—naïve as it may appear, a soul is nevertheless authentic, natural and sincere.

Penelope bit her lip. She remembered Motoko being too young to have her entire injured body replaced with a cybernetic one. Motoko never asked for it. She had to adapt it. A life living in shells… “I wonder if she’s even capable of truly loving.”

It didn’t matter anymore so she pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to waste hours crying over a broken heart nor was she going to step on her dignity by coming back to something that was harming her. She was going to work on saving herself.

Human Doll

Part 1

Motoko opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She wanted to fill her lungs with the now-familiar scent of a new lover, touched and tamed by her own charm and hands. It was a victory amongst other victories on her romantic escapades because this…this has something else. For one thing, her past lovers would wrap their arms around her all throughout the night, while Penelope Sta. Rhea wasn’t even within reach. Motoko, having highly advanced senses, did not need to panic, for her technological body found the new prize, sitting in front of the glass window. Penelope was watching the big, urban city, bustling despite the early hour.

The small figure was hunched over, covering her petite, naked body with a blanket. Her wavy hair was disheveled badly, but the messy look always seemed to work for her. Kusanagi could see her brownish yellow skin on her nape that went uncovered by the blanket. The same spot where Motoko’s ports are located. Looking at the back of a pure human has a surreal element with it. Though, at this age, it was impractical to live with a pure human body. It is almost unsurvivable unless she was put into solitary confinement…until she goes mad.

Motoko then noticed the small figure’s shoulders start to shake. Then, the girl started sobbing quietly, as if not to awaken her.

They have been lovers for 3 weeks now. Motoko has every inch of her body memorized; the human body didn’t disappoint. It was even more responsive than any of her past lovers’ cyber-enhanced bodies. It was a delight to please her and intoxicate her with Motoko’s masculine dominance. From day one, she understood the human doll’s story and learned her personality, her psyche—such a strange psyche indeed; complex, irrational and wonderful.

It was the paradox of humanity in the flesh. A sight that Motoko wasn’t willing to destroy, nor was it something she wanted to approach. She wanted it to just be, she wanted Sta. Rhea to just be the reminder of a life she once lost. And while the young girl cries for her reasons, Motoko did not want to know. She wanted to hear her cries, her sobs, the way her breath goes quicker and shallower. Was it sick for her to want to hear such pain and emotion? Motoko didn’t know, but Penelope’s melancholia served as a lullaby for a dying humanity inside Motoko’s ghost, and she fell fast asleep.

The next morning, Sta. Rhea was nowhere to be found.