“It’s just another dreary day,” she reminds herself, as she forces her body to get out of bed. “Nothing will happen today,” she whispers, dejectedly, willing herself not to cry.

She hastily fixes her bed and takes a deep breath, steadying her mind, if not her heart, as she goes downstairs to help make breakfast. “If there’s even some food left in the fridge,” she mumbles quietly.

These past months have been horrible. Her contract with her old company ended and there wasn’t any other job waiting for her. Being the breadwinner of the family was tough but it was even harder because she couldn’t find anything that could tide them over. What with all the bills to pay–the electric bill, the water bill, the rent–and the money to buy food, mainly.

She ambles over to the kitchen and finds her mom mixing something in a bowl. “Good morning, mama,” she whispers. She opens the fridge and finds several packets of food inside–a tray of eggs, a pack of biscuits, a carton of milk, some vegetables. That startles her. She looks questioningly at her mother. “Ma, why do we have food?”

Her mother smiles, gently. “Your brother sent a bit of cash to help,” she explains, “There’s some coffee and bread here. You need to eat. You’re getting a lot thinner, Trisha,” she adds as she hands Trisha a steaming mug of coffee.

She accepts the mug and starts eating some of the bread. She cannot hide the smile that slowly brightens up her face. “Thank you, God,” she silently prays.

“At least, we have some food,” her mom tells her. “Yes, thank God. We have food,” she seconds. The heavy feeling lifts up a bit and she feels lighter than she did earlier. Surely, this situation won’t be forever. She knows that God will soon provide her with a solution. She only needs to believe that. Because, He always does.



“My Life, My Journey”

Show Text

who’s to judge the path, i travel?
will it be you, who knows nothing, of me?
or, them, who think they know me?
am i not the one who should?
who makes the rules in this life’s journey?
do you? do they? do i?
the places i’ve been,
the things i’ve seen.
the people i’ve met along my way.
the hearts i’ve broken.
the ones who broke my heart.
do these make me, who i must seem, today?
or, does my past matter, still?
who makes me, this way?
what matters in this present deal?
in truth, i think, we’re only guessing;
for the most important point, to see,
is the fact that both, you and i,
are the sole decision-makers
of the lives we mean to live.
the road i take is long and arduous;
and, everyone will say their roads are, too.
so the point, i’d like to make,
is that no one, but i, can judge myself.
the sole exception, to this rule,
is that aside from little me–
the only one to tell you truths of me,
is the one God who guides me.



“Love Is Perfect: A Letter For The Man Who Hates Love Songs”

You say you don’t like listening to songs because love songs, specifically, talk about a love that isn’t real. You told me that when you were young, your parents used to like playing series of love songs using the music player at home and that these songs were those which shaped how you thought love was. As you got older, as you went from one relationship to the next, you realized that these songs that became your definition of love didn’t really compare to the love you experienced in these relationships. So for you, love songs weren’t worth listening to because they’ve let you believe in something that was actually non-existent and fake. Continue reading “Love Is Perfect: A Letter For The Man Who Hates Love Songs”