How’s and Why’s


How does it feel?

To know that somewhere, someone thinks of you before they shut their eyes and go to dreamland.

How does it feel?

To be assured of being loved back.

How does it feel?

Being confident that true love is not a paracosm

How does it feel?

Knowing that after everything else, you are safe

How do you feel?

How did you feel?

How do I feel?

How is it?

That I have no idea

Why is it?

Too difficult for  me.

-Ms. P-



Why I’ve Been M.I.A.


Hello everyone!

I missed doing this sooooo much! Today I have a rather chill post for y’all.

Let’s chat.

                If you have been reading my blog prior to my major hiatus, then you would know that my posting schedule became rather erratic before completely stopping. Previously, I have tried to schedule my posts every Tuesday and Saturday, and for quite some time, it really worked for me. I’m not gonna lie, I started this blog before I had a regular, everyday kind of job. In a way, reading and blogging about it became an escape route from my boredom and sadness (this is a whole different issue *wink*). Of course, it was also a way for me to reach out to others who, like me, are obsessed with books and talking about them. Months after my posts became regular, I received a call from a friend saying that I am being hired to become an instructor at a nursing school. Of course I became ecstatic. It was something I have been waiting for. It was something I really wanted to do and I know I would enjoy doing.

                For a while I thought that I could handle reading, blogging, and teaching like a boss. Well, I realized I cannot do it rather quickly haha! At first, I thought that I wasn’t writing or reading for that matter because I was busy with work and other stuff. BUT, thinking about it now, I had time. I knew I had time in my hands, and I could have managed my time more efficiently so I could squeeze everything I wanted to do in my 24 hours. I didn’t. That was when I realized I hit a major slump. I didn’t really want to read anything or write about anything for a long time, hence the hiatus from the blog. I felt like my reviews weren’t relevant enough, and there was a time it felt pointless doing it. I’ve always said that me reviewing books I have read was never about gaining a gazillion views or a hoard of followers. And it never really is. However, let’s be honest for a second and admit that seeing the views counter go up really does make us smile and giddy. It is some form of validation. Something every human being will want at some point in their life.

                And it’s not like no one ever reads my posts. No. I had readers and followers as well. Comments were few, but consistent. Do I seem too ungrateful? I was thankful, but not content. I always am I guess. At that point, I had no interest in reading, and I had the hardest time, finishing this one book that was ah-mazing. If I wasn’t in that stupid slump, I would have devoured that. Until a few weeks ago, all my books remained unloved. Shame on me, I know.  I just was disinterested and uninspired.

What changed?

                I suddenly missed reading one day. I missed being transported to different worlds. I longed to be in the shoes of different people, meeting characters, experiencing new emotions and embarking on journeys I would have never imagined. I missed the magic books had.  So I picked up my phone and chose one book in my Kindle app that intrigued me the most and started reading. The first few pages felt weird. It was like doing something for the first time. I hated the feeling honestly. I hated having lost that familiar feeling reading gave me every time. As I read on, as all of you might know, magic happened and the next thing I know I am in the forest with a dragon-boy-hybrid with blood dripping from his chest. How is that for a welcome right? This is what I missed. This is home to me.

What’s next then?

                As I am typing this, I have plans on the next few posts coming up on this wee little blog of mine. I have reviews loooong overdue that I want to do. And I have a multitude of books I want to read. I haven’t typed the first one though. Haha! Because I haven’t done it in months, I feel like a beginner and I am off to a rough re-start. I want to collect my thoughts first and wrap my head around how I want to be doing my reviews. Do I want to continue with my previous ways or should I try something new? Stuff like that. One thing is for sure though, and this is a promise I am making myself and my readers (if I have any). I will be posting a review on Tuesday, and will start with my regular posting schedule again this week.

A favour I want to ask

                This is where I need your help guys. I really want to succeed and push myself to managing my time better and overcome this dark shadow of procrastination surrounding me.  If for some reason, I wasn’t able to post twice in a week, call me out on it. I promise I don’t mind. We are all bookish friends here right?

That’s it. I really, really missed all of you and I hope we can talk about fun stuff like we used to. Also, can I just say I am sooooooo excited for Christmas? Because I am soooooo excited and I am not ashamed busting out my phone and playing Michael Buble’s Christmas album every single day.

Talk to you soon.. Love yah!

From The Friend You Are Yet To Meet


The Bus Stop by Pat Katz (Title and site have been added by yours truly)

“Rode the bus” would be the title of this day if it had one because yeah, I did…

I would be a fool if I told you it was easy. Nobody said it would be. Today I woke up to a mediocre life. Strange. People look up to me, and think highly of me, but I look in the mirror and see someone else. So guess what I did. Yep. I rode the bus.

I did it to think. I did it to run. With the wind rushing past me, I left everything behind. Everything. Had you told me weeks ago I would be doing this, I would have said you were crazy and that I am happy, or at least I thought I was. But that day, as I looked at this person staring back, I know I had to do something or lose myself entirely. So I did, I ran.

I ran away. Better be accused of being a coward than miserable. The people who love me will understand. Those who will judge can go to hell. People will say all kinds of stuff, try to put words to my mouth and decisions to my head.I decided that I just don’t care. I will do what I want, and will not apologize for it.

The stuff I left behind, I will leave for good. Mediocrity, blind obedience, conferring to stereotype, not eating cake for breakfast.

Today, I ran, run fast, fly, soar high, to where I want to be, and what I want to do.

If you are reading this letter, and find yourself stuck, remember that when a phoenix burns to ashes, it is because it is bound to be reborn. Better, stronger than its former self. If you are in your ashes too, I will wait for you to rise up from it, and flaunt your feathers with pride. I would love to fly with you.


The friend you are yet to meet

When I Decide to Walk Away


credits to the owner of this painting

I guess what they say is true, about familiarity bringing comfort. There have been countless times when I questioned myself as to why I keep on doing it. Trying to converse when all the other wants is to talk. But then, who else is there? I have no one else really. Maybe it’s the anonymity and familiarity that makes a person so attractive and so seemingly worthwhile. Frightening thing, mediocrity – in life and love, and everything else in between.

I wonder when was the last time I have had a seriously good conversation, a really good laugh, a genuinely thought-provoking discourse. The kind which, when I look back to it, I smile at the thought of how fruitful and precious it was. When did people ever forget that we learn more from conversations than a mindless button with the thumb sticking out? These days, I find myself seriously deprived of such…. shall I say luxury? Again, when did sensible conversations become such a rare thing?

It is more frustrating to have to struggle with someone you want to know much more. It’s almost infuriating to have to settle to simple question-answer episodes. Like I said, maybe the reason I stay is because of the familiarity, to the person and the situation. It’s comforting, in an almost sad way.

I won’t settle for it. I know myself enough to know that much. There will come a time for it. When I get tired, and finally convince myself, my stubborn self, that all this is not healthy and just walk away. And at that point, away I walk for good.

We become no more than strangers, and familiarity becomes just a memory, and comfort becomes nothing but a wish.

To Cornelius, With Expectation


Hello dear friend. How have you been? I was deep in thought earlier when I thought of writing to you to tell you where I am in my life right now. You would indulge me this one right?

I am at a point in my life when I have to decide what I want to do with it. It’s not always the easiest, but it must be done. Taking a step back, I look at where I am right now and I am nowhere near where I want to be. Maybe not even close to near. I do know that I have to step out sooner or later. And quite honestly, that is what scares me.

I’ve been out there, chasing, running, going after things, stopping at nothing. You know this Cornelius, I was as they say, haulin’ ass. Then I made the decision to lay low to prioritize something equally important, which I don’t regret at all. But ever since then, I became complacent, and haven’t found my groove back yet I don’t know why I am afraid to go out and face the world again; especially when I am starting to despise where I am right now.

I am at a crossroads. Torn between the choice of different paths, all equally promising and frightening at the same time. Despite my fears, I am sure of two things – I do not want to stay where I am today, and I have to make a choice. After all, one of my many fears is to get stuck here, unable to get away.

I feel better these days, and you know that is a huge deal for me. Lately, I don’t feel as stuffed in, and I am slowly regaining control. There are things I wish to change about my life and there are plans. But, what I have to work on is how to execute them and make them materialize.

Sometimes, I wish I am as strong as people see me to be. I wish I could see myself through their eyes. I am sure they see a better sight. I am not exactly my own best fan. Maybe that is why I am so scared. I am scared that I can’t. For whatever thing it is, I am terrified of failing. Somehow, if I am to describe how I am in words alone, maybe a few will suffice.

I am thankful but anxious, moving but scared, hopeful and fighting.

I will write to you again once I get settled here. I miss our long conversations over tea. How was your vacation? Have you found that rare recipe you have been telling me about? I hope (dearly hope) to hear from you soon.

Mara In Love


Today was the day. If I am to be absolutely honest, I have been anticipating this day much longer than I would allow myself to admit. What was it that made me want to leave you ask? To say I have fallen out of love would be a lie, a travesty, because I. DID. NOT.

I think we both knew. And I think we both braced ourselves for when that time came. Up until now, it’s hard for me to think back and see life without him. He has always been with me for years. We were always a team. Always him and I. We were not perfect for each other. But man, God knows how many fights we have loved over the years. And yet, even if you ask us this very moment to talk about those moments, we would probably burst out laughing the whole day. Truth be told, up to now, he is the best person and man I know.

He is sweet, and gentle towards me. And yet he is fiercely protective and caring. He was the only person who made me feel safe. I saw how much he wanted me to just let go and let him take care of me. I look at his beautiful hazel beautiful hazel eyes and I see the sincere man I fell in love with years ago. He was funny beyond belief, and loyal beyond life itself. He loved his family like his life, and kissed his grandmother a lot. I’ve always wondered how this guy, tall, handsome, with that boyish smile just loved spending Saturday afternoons cuddled on the couch surrounded by pillows and blankets eating cookies and drinking hot chocolate.

I’d always fall asleep before the 2nd movie is finished, and I would always wake up with either a kiss on my forehead or the smell of pizza he ordered for dinner. He enjoyed moments like that, and I lived for them, because on work days, we hauled ass. We are similar like that, loving what we do, and working our hardest. I love him, more than anything, and I know he did too.

You might be wondering why then, how come I talk about him with so much admiration and yet I write alone in a table drinking coffee by myself.

You see, time went by and passed, and we remained who we were. People who were in love. We grew to be better people. I’m sure you would agree. But I guess through the years, we both realized we remained together for selfish reasons, more for ourselves than for each other.

Isn’t that what happiness is about you ask?


I don’t have the slightest idea how to explain it to you. But when I found true love, I realized being together wasn’t the ONLY option. It also meant being at peace at being apart. I didn’t think it was THAT LOVE when I agreed to be his girlfriend that sunny Sunday stroll at the park while eating coffee ice cream. However, everyday, I fell in love a little bit more, a little deeper. It consumed my being slowly, until one day, I woke up with the text message from the person who I know owns my heart forever.

I am not the least bit afraid of losing him. No. I know I won’t.

I did not let him go, I let him be. People said I did not love him and they could not have been more mistaken. I love him, if that is the last thing I ever do. But then love does not come in shackles but with freedom. Love, one that does not make sense, exists and is nevertheless true.

He hugged me tight and smiled warmly, that knowing smile. He was about to hop on a plane to see the Louvre…

Did you see the pictures I sent you? Oh my goodness the pizza here is absolutely delightful! The best I am telling you! I know you are guessing, betting, on how this will end for us. Should we really know immediately? Shall I date? Do you think he will? Am I driving you crazy now? Haha! I should go now. I’m about to head out and find a place to have dinner. See you soon.


To Cornelius, With Hope



I write to you while I am on a trip to try and find myself amidst everything I think myself to be. I know, don’t panic, I’m fine. There have been many things these past few months which have given me the chance to reflect and see what mess I have made, both in my mind and in my life. Control is one thing I pride myself in, but now, I’m afraid it has betrayed me. I am all over the place, and it has left my heart and my spirit in shambles. I find myself wanting to cry more these days, do you know? I don’t cry. I just don’t. It’s not that I can’t. Believe me I could have cried the whole day for something I don’t even know if I could. It is that I won’t. I refuse to. More and more, I find myself wanting to escape, find solace elsewhere. As days pass, I’m afraid I want to be more and more alone.

I talk to myself. I do that often. Even as a young girl I would give myself pep talks to muster up courage to do stuff. I tried. I really did. Much more than I realize, it has been a constant conversation with myself about just bouncing back into the world. Again with this, I am starting to realize, I might just be failing. Do I sound pathetic? Maybe. Helpless? I don’t think so. Ah, how I wish I had a book with me right now. Maybe I’ll buy later after this. Don’t you just love books Cornelius? They take you places, teach you things, introduce you to new people, make you feel sad or thrilled or …happy. When was the last time you have been truly happy Cornelius? When I am with my family or when I do the things I say I love, I am happy, but I am not. Am I going crazy? Merely ambivalent? To say I am confused is an utter misconception of what I am going through right now.

I am nowhere.

Where do I start dear friend? Where does someone like me begin when I have absolutely no Idea of what I am about to embark on. What am I to do? Eat pints of strawberry ice cream? Although that might be a rather pressing and satisfying thing to do, I don’t think it will suffice this time. I think of the word joy, and words to define it seem to escape me altogether. How did I define joy then Cornelius? Why can’t I do it now? Is something wrong with me? Has the world finally caught up with me? Have I really evaded reality before that it seemed to rush all over me now? Have I been dreaming all this time of who and what I am? Do I indulge myself too much? Does reality ever really bring satisfaction and wisdom? Am I drifting away? Am I?

I am sorry to burden you old friend, but it seems like of all those who had come and go, you are the one who would judge me fairly. We all judge, right Cornelius? People say we shouldn’t. Well isn’t that judging in itself? We always judge, otherwise how do we go on with living with other humans who judge as well. It’s hypocrisy to say we don’t. But then it’s what we do about it that becomes morally right or wrong or better yet humanely right or wrong. Do I burden you? Or confuse you in some way? Maybe I do, but like I said, I know you will judge me fairly and with love.

Maybe love did this. But then, what is love? Can it heal me, if this is an illness at all? Peculiar, my thoughts flow like a constant stream right now. This is the best it has functioned in weeks. Maybe I’m going back. I stare at my window and it’s pitch black. Utter darkness… absolute and resolute. A blank canvass for my thoughts, maybe I can fancy a story?


My head is noisy but blank at the same time. I used to have such an organized pattern of thought. What happened you ask? You asked the wrong person. It’s all so vague, so constant yet so fickle. Such contradictions make my head hurt, and yet my heart wants to be found Cornelius. I honestly, sincerely want to be found.

I am sorry for such random outpour of nonsense. It’s just that I haven’t felt as eloquent in a very long time. Anyway, if you find all this rubbish, then just scrap it, I won’t mind, and I would not know either way, would I? Maybe I will write to you again, this felt good, for once. Thank you…

– P –

A Letter From Casandra


It’s 4 am. Ugh. Way too early again.

Normal people would have thrown the blankets on and slept peacefully again, it’s Saturday after all. But, the weird being that I am, I got out of bed, and made myself some delicious brewed coffee and toast on my small but functional kitchen.
I sat down on a couch near the window of my apartment and began munching on my breakfast. I thought of everything that happened yesterday, and to an extent, thought of things about my life right now. If you ask anyone who knew me, they would say I am doing good, great actually. Working, living on my own, earning, giving back, living the life of an accomplished young adult in my chosen career, essentially happy- this is how I can be described at twenty five. I am no billionaire, nor am I a superstar, but I was content. People would ask me, what I can say about my life, about how I reached this state. What would I say to my 24 year old self? Shall I write a letter to her?

Love C, love…

You were always scared, always cautious. You guarded your heart from breaking, and I understand that, but make space for love. Love is a wonderful thing, and you cannot deny that it made you happy once. It was unfortunate yes, but you came out stronger and wiser. Wasn’t it you who said that in everything, take what is happy and leave what is crap? Love isn’t crap C, sometimes it’s us, and sometimes it’s the circumstances surrounding us. You never know when love comes and passes by. Life is never too long, never too fair, never too perfect. Grab your chances, and fight for what is yours.

Family, indeed, is everything

Your pride yourself with this. You love them above and beyond everything and everyone else, don’t you? Can you count how many times you were so thankful you were born in that family? Girl, they love you just as much. I just wish you would hug them more, tell them how much you love them more often. I know, I know, it’s too mushy, but aren’t you all mushy inside too? Sometimes people tend to forget this, but the family is where everything begins and ends. And a family is not just comprised of parents and children. Those who genuinely love you, are family too. So tell them all right? Remember, life is never too long, never too fair, never too perfect.


You’ve been a busy girl C. And yeah, that is good. But tell me, when was the last time you bought flowers just for the heck of it? Or the last time you went to the park to just walk around while enjoying ice cream on a cone? It’s the simple things C, that make life wonderful. Enjoy it, you deserve it. Life is never too giving. You work hard, and life gives you what you need, but for life to give you more, live it C. Don’t just exist, live. A long life does not mean it is more meaningful than a shorter one. Live life, don’t waste your time counting. Life is beautiful, but never too long, never too fair, never too  perfect.

Is it good? Do you think it will make me cry? Too mushy? I look around, gave a deep sigh, and  then smiled.Yup, I’m gonna miss this place.

Do I regret not having that one great love?


Will I miss my family? YES, but then I may be able to see them anyway. I’m going somewhere far, somewhere even I don’t know. All I know is that wherever it is, I will have all the answers. Happiness. Love. Life. Time. Space. What are they? Do they actually mean anything? I know. Will I tell you? No. It’s part of existing and living.

I should be going now. This house, it’s empty. Did I hold you up? Well go on now! Don’t mind me and my rants, did you understand a thing I said? If yes, well, congratulations. If not, well, no worries, if I were you I wouldn’t either. You’re still reading? Go! You have time in your hands. Oh, and before I forget, if you buy flowers, can you pick even just a piece of peony? I liked them a lot… Thanks…

P.S. Life is never too long, never too fair, never too perfect.


***This is a fictional work I made about a year ago. I don’t know what to call this really. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think.***

Writing in Silence


There is this strong urge to procrastinate, as I have done the past months with this wee-little blog of mine. BUT, I am trying, really, to be better at this so I decided to procrastinate later and just type away.

To be honest I haven’t had the slightest idea of what I am to write but then sometimes letting thoughts flow through your fingertips is the way to go. I am sitting in front of my desk trying to relax while sipping my chamomile tea (super delicious by the way) and hoping that sleep will visit me soon. I have had quite the busy life these past few months with all the studies, career, friendships, love (?), and family shenanigans I had to attend to. It’s probably the lamest excuse for virtually neglecting this wonderful thing but then I guess I started to realize I am an emotional writer, like how I am an emotional reader. I write when I feel like it. And now, I do.

Silence. How do you define it? How do you explain something as simple yet complex? How do you explain something so broad yet relative? I have always been the talkative girl, but I know there is silence in my babble. I talk a lot, but I don’t say a lot, in fact, I may not say anything at all. Maybe it’s all perspective. I was reading a blog post about writing in silence. People may contradict, but there is something about silence that makes me associate it with peace. Now I know that there are different kinds of silence, from peace to silent rage hurling like a whirlwind destroying he who harbors it for long. However, the intense emotion that comes both in contentment and fury stirs the heart and fuels the mind. What would books be like without such emotion, or inspiration?

People write to express, and that, I think is why words were given to us. And in writing I find peace among other things. That brief moment after having poured out every last bit of happiness or hatred or hope or desire is precious. That moment when you realize you have nothing else to do but look at your soul written as words. It doesn’t matter what you have written, what matters is that you did.

I honestly don’t know if I have made the tiniest bit of sense. But I hope that you who are reading this right now may find it genuine.