What's the best age to start working?
Kailan nga ba?
Kailan nga ba?
Tatapon mo pa ba yan?...
You know it's about to end.
Do men actually feel comfortable providing for women? Or is it just because they feel obligated to?
A lot are complaining about how the government is in the Philippines but they don't actually question the way they're voting for the wrong people.
I heard they need applicants to be at least 18 years old. Pero there's also this thing na you can still apply basta you have a parental consent letter, I actually wanna know if that's true. And how do y'all actually apply here?
This is the question that most students (like me) have especially those who are actually academic achievers but also want to earn their money as soon as possible. 🤧
Am I better off as a concept nalang?
Like actually, none of their music is bad nor trashy.
Sapat na bang hindi ka nagche-cheat kung emotionally neglected naman yung partner mo?
I hate needing reassurance this much. I wish my heart understood safety as easily as my mind tries to, it gets to the point that I'd always apologize for being needy while secretly hoping someone stays long enough to understand why. Everyone knows a relationship can still be broken even after being together for so many years.
Ano? Yun lang yun? Pag nakuha mo na, hindi mo na aalagaan?
I run with the clock
like a frightened thing,
a deer frozen in the glow
of headlights it can’t outrun.
Time moves,
and I move with it,
because stopping feels like dying,
like discipline slipping through my hands,
like karma waiting with its quiet teeth.
I polish my fear with pretty words-
passion,
drive,
purpose-
but every step feels like ballet on broken bones,
toes bleeding in satin shoes
just to prove I can still dance.
I watch others stroll
as if time is soft beneath their feet,
and I envy their ease
almost as much as I despise it.
How dare they be unafraid
of seconds I treat like gods?
How dare they breathe
in moments I turn into battlefields?
Inside my mind,
gears lock and grind-
bolts tightening around every thought
until emotion feels like a malfunction,
a weakness in the wiring.
Sometimes I wish I were a robot,
hollow, obedient, unshaking-
built to serve,
built to last,
built without the fragile ache
of being human.
But even then,
the pressure hums in my metal chest,
a ghost of who I am:
the girl who runs,
the girl who breaks,
the girl who tries to be strong
because the world taught her
that strength is survival.
And still-
beneath the steel,
beneath the bleeding toes,
beneath the ticking that haunts me-
there is a heart
that refuses to shut down,
a heart terrified of failing
but desperate to feel.