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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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Poetry and Prose

Carousels

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All my life I’ve suffered from motion sickness. Take me on a car or bus ride and I’d know right then what’s bound to happen. Once, on a van ride home, I tried to withstand it. A few kilometers passed and I started feeling weird as if the butterflies in my stomach wanted to break free. My throat went dry and the air left my lungs gasping. One, two, three. I started counting. I thought I’d make it to ten but I was already throwing up at five. Experts said motion sickness is caused by mixed signals sent by our inner ears and our eyes to our brain. Well whatever it is, curse it.

There is a reason why I love long walks and hate the rides. But carousels are an exemption. For ours was a carousel ride. Your love took this heart round and round and round. You sent my butterflies flying in an uneasy state. My inner ears and eyes were sending mixed signals to my brain. My ears — they heard my scream and told my brain this needs to stop. My eyes — they’re drawn to you and told my brain it is time that needs to stop. Unable to comprehend, the air left my lungs gasping. One, two, three. I started counting. But then you held my hands and I lost count of the numbers. The world stopped turning and the hour hands paused.

I love the carousel but I also want it to end. I want us to go north to see the beaches, south to hike the mountains. I want a destination not just a merry-go-round. I want commitment not just falling in and out of love. But if you ask me on a carousel ride, I’d still take it. I’d withstand motion sickness until you decide to make this a journey instead of running round and round.
MS


Facebook reminded me that I wrote this piece two years ago this day. In 2017, I attended the two-day Cebu Literary Festival x Komiket event. Back then, my world was only limited to the four corners of my room or the pages of my books. It was a crucial year of existential crisis, all bottled up for so long. I struggled to find purpose and failed. It felt like I was functioning on auto pilot every single day and the only thing that would separate me from a robot would probably be poetry. Reading through my old poems, I could see how I was in a chaotic emotional mess. A hopeless romantic. An anxious human being trying to recreate her world through words. This piece is just one of those. I wrote it while listening to spoken word artists performing in front of me. In my mind I wanted to take the stage and express. In my heart, I just knew I can’t.

PLOT TWIST: Fast forward to 2018, I found myself onstage stuttering to the words of Pasabta Ko Palihug, a spoken word in my local dialect. Time flies! 😀

Snippet: Another ‘what if’

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What if love is not just about falling? We romanticize so much this act of tripping, slipping, losing control and crashing into another person that we forget that love isn’t always a downward act. It is should not be qualified as sacrificial to the point of self-destruct. Because you see, the beauty of love is not only seen in our collapse, but in how it builds the best version of ourselves. It’s not just about what we give up but how we lift our person up.

“I’ll take care of myself for you and you’ll take care of yourself for me.”

Isn’t that a beautiful thing?

 


I was skimming through my unpublished posts when I came across this draft. A while ago, I had a conversation with a friend on whether or not we should quantify love by the amount of material, time, attention, effort, and sacrifice we give and receive. We had opposing opinions on the matter but it made me reflect a thing or two about relationships. This is one of those what ifs.

Worry Not

ours was forged by something greater than hands intertwined. remember how time has showed us how small this world is? from poetry, paperbacks, and people, we found each other on the same path. it took years but what is meant to be will always find its way, so they say. so i need you not to worry.

when i find myself
alone beneath the cerulean sky
i will walk without a sigh, carrying thoughts
of mountains, coffee, and your smile

when you find yourself
waking on a midnight as i drift away
in sleep, a deep slumber that you can’t reach
those are dreams of you i’m chasing

when both time and zones
seem to divide and pull us apart
i promise you we’ll get through it
we will navigate the world of adults

ours isn’t perfect and we haven’t figured everything out yet. but we will— piece by piece, day by day, night by night. we will learn and grow together… and separately. because what is meant to be will always find its way. and the universe is on our side.MS

Solitudine

“Make yourself happy—
not to validate people but
because you simply want to.”

I hope you learn to enjoy the company of yourself first. To not cringe at the thought of being alone. To have the best days of your life in solitary walks. In sunrises and silence. Moonlit nights or perhaps lazy afternoons.

I’m not talking about the I’m-fine-being-alone-I’d-rather-be-by-myself kind of solitude either. I heard you countless of times. Still, I keep seeing that sad look in your eyes. That feigned smile.

Solitude is beautiful and you need not degrade it. It is a choice, not a defense mechanism. So go on and do what you’ve been itching to do. Make yourself happy — not to validate people but because you simply want to. Gain so much that by the time solitude leaves you at bay, you have a lot to give away. To them. To him. To her.
MS

 

 

 

Over and over. Again and again.

At some point in this lifetime, your life will turn upside down. You knees will wobble in chasing your dreams. Your fingers will tremble holding on to hope. Frustration will try to claw out of your throat as fear strangles you by the neck. Your heart will break— terribly. Crushed and trampled on by circumstances or people. You will see life from a shattered mirror and trust me when I say that you will seek the comfort of oblivion.

I have been there.

I turned to silence and locked myself away from the awful world. Noise has also been my recourse to shut the voices screaming in my head. I gave myself an escape only to find I was building a cage. It was empty even when I was in it.

Coelho once wrote that life has a way of testing a person’s will: either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen all at once. I hope when you reach this point in your lifetime, you take a time to breathe. To take a step back. It’s okay to not know all the answers. It’s okay to swim in the ocean of confusion. It’s okay to fall. So take all the time you need to get those knees back up. Those hands ready to grip. And that heart? Remember that it is everything broken and glued back together.

Over and over. Again and again.

Vignette: Lured

you make me feel
like this is where i belong:
right by your side

It was more than your charm that lured me in. It was your mystery— the way you make my mind wander and wonder. The way you make me a changed person evey single day I spend with you. The way you make me feel like this is where I belong: right by your side. 🍃

Snippet: (Non)sensical ruminations

always, beautiful, beauty, boy, couple, forever, girl, hug, love, lovely, night, sky, stars, together

“Death might be life in prison”
I wonder what you’d say when I tell you this.

Last night, I carved a path out of this carnal flesh
Wanting to leave the world behind—
Thoughts, feelings
Images, emotions
Flickering like jeers from far-off constellations

Death, this world has too many body bags
And the irony that prison has become a safer place is a shame

Between us, I was the lesser WHY-person
And you were the one with the bigger questions
Transcending physics to the realm of extraordinary things
While I was lost in poetry and daydreams

Detached from the physical body
Passing through astral planes and realities
Talking about death and life
A skeptic and a believer at the same time—
This is how we’ll make love

“Death might be life in prison”
I wonder what you’d say when I tell you this, love.
MS

 

A Sunrise Vignette

I remember the first sunrise that I wished to have seen with you. It was glorious and warm and almost perfect. Almost— because I wanted you by my side. And that one time when the sky was painted with a light shade of pink, I thought you would have loved it. You said it reminded you of the blush on my cheeks. I remember that beautiful Rayleigh, too. That early morning when the eastern sky was a soft blend of purple and blue. The air was cold and I missed the comfort of your hug. God, I lost count of the times I fell for sunrises and the thoughts of you. When will you come back?

We are all stars

Each day, we wake up consciously or unconsciously wondering which version of us this concrete world will accept. We tiptoe our way on the streets. We watch what we say or do— or not do. Perhaps this is why many prefer the silence of solitude, the earthy smell of mountains, the lapping of waves. Mankind think too much, trying to turn life into one big stage. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But one thing is for sure, we are not in for an audition. We are all stars.

Here’s to beating our Monday blues. ☕️

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