How To Love The Girl Who’s Scared You’re Going To Leave

There’s two ways this can go: (1) either she’s been there, done that, or (2) she’s never had someone like you before and thinks this is too good to be true.

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It might be something all too familiar to her. Love, and left. That’s what she was and what she thinks she still is.

She is so used to this pattern of destruction that she believes its only a matter of time that everything will go wrong the minute anything becomes so right. What goes up, must come down, and whenever her life falls, it comes back lower than where she started.

She’s scared you’re going to leave because she’s even more terrified of the way she’ll feel if when you do. She knows it will be messy — and that’s an understatement.

Love her in a way that makes her feel cared for. That’s makes her believe that even if things go wrong, you’ll find a way to make them right. That not everything is all perfect sunshine and roses, but she’ll be in your arms when they’re not.

Love her and make her know that you’re there. When she needs you, you’re there to listen to her. That she can speak her thoughts without being judged. That you’ll not always understand, but will definitely try.

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Or, she’s scared you’re going to leave because more often than not, her insecurities surround her like a life-consuming black cloud — that whispers things she thinks are true, and causes her to act in ways she never would. Her insecurities win the space in her head where happiness once grew and they take over. Letting her believe she’s not enough, that you’ll leave her for someone else eventually, someone who’s better for you, someone who’s better than her.

Love her in a way that accepts her insecurities. Don’t ever try to take them away, instead, try to quiet them down. Accept that sometimes, she will say things she doesn’t mean, or do things she wouldn’t ever intend to. Love her until she makes her insecurities fade away herself.

Love her and make her know that’s she’s enough. Say it again and again, and make her feel special everyday. Little things count. Let her know that she can’t be the only thing that matters to you, but she’s definitely at the top part of that important list. Love her in a way that shows how much she means to you.

Love her in a way that assures her that the only place you plan to be is by her side.

The Kind of Girl You Should End Up With

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  • End up with the girl that let’s you know how much she appreciates how much of a superhero you are.
  • End up with the girl who shows you how much it means to her when you surprise her with creative gestures that makes her heart go wild.
  • End up with the girl that says one thing and means it.
  • End up with the girl that cares deeply for your emotion and sympathizes in your pain because she believes everyone’s feelings and thoughts are valid.
  • End up with the girl that calls your parents ‘Ma’am/Sir’ or ‘Tita/Tito’, and acknowledges them with utmost respect.
  • End up with the girl that is not going to pressure you into doing something you’re not entirely comfortable with.

A gal like this is rare, especially today when women have become more vain, and think too high of themselves in a world where girls never seem to grow up. Never let go of the girl that is still willing to show you her best even after Valentine’s Day. Someone who’s game to date you every week, and returns the favor sometimes by taking you out to romantic places for a change, so she could know and understand the core of your being.

  • End up with the girl that doesn’t only call when she needs something from you.
  • End up with the girl that doesn’t consider you as an afterthought when she’s done having fun, a second option when her first priority doesn’t work out, or the person she only remembers when she’s bored.
  • End up with the girl that doesn’t make you feel insecure, but brings out the best in you, one that sees your strength and abilities as admirable, not a threat.
  • End up with the girl that’s excited to celebrate every Valentine’s Day, birthday, anniversary, and every occasion with you.
  • End up with the girl that says she loves you, in the middle of the night, in her sexy sleepy voice.
  • End up with the girl that promises to be your one and only Valentine, now and forever. ❤

 

 

 

3 Things Not to Forget this 2017

If I may be allowed a moment of personal reflection – 2016 has almost completely sucked for me, mostly in the financial department – the company I worked for decided to close January, failing to start my own business at the first quarter, not finding a job on the second quarter, partnering up with the wrong people to start up a business on the third quarter, and finally setting up shop on the beginning of the fourth quarter. Here I am now. Spending a really nice two-week holiday at Hong Kong with my girlfriend, Chi. This is a big deal, finally being able to spend freely like this. I am nothing but thankful.

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Looking up from our apartment balcony in Sai Ying Pun

Ok, back to the article – The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region – a vibrant urban center, former British colony, major Southeast Asian port, and global financial hub. But for the local millenials of the Philippines, Hong Kong is the nearest Disneyland Resort,  and (sometimes) the cheaper venue to splurge-shop (see Fa Yuen Street and Temple Street Night Market).

We went on the road less travelled – alleyways with kiosks selling Cantonese fishballs, and noodle soups, and small knick-knacks we can bring home. Monasteries, temples – where people don’t flock, we visit.

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Chi, standing outside a noodle shop at Queen’s Road West at the Sheung Wan District

In the 15 days that we were here, I found that these things should never forgotten this year, and forever:

Continue reading “3 Things Not to Forget this 2017”

The Ultimate Guide to Tombstone Fonts

You can live forever, but in case you don’t, here’s a few of the overly used tombstone fonts and what they say about you.

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Ah yes. Times New Roman. You may be the type that believes that technology will take over and be the cause of mankind’s utter destruction. You’re a classic, old soul (badum-tss) and you enjoy watching The Goonies, listening to Tears For Fears, and you probably go boxing on your free time when you’re not too busy playing sick chords on your electric guitar.

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You probably work in a large, local company at Ayala Avenue, working a middle management role where you have been complacent with steady bi-annual salary increases, multiple bonuses and your boss being away half the time.

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You are a stuck up old woman, divorced from her husband of 20 years with two children who may or may not like you very much. But you have a stellar career of 30+ years and enjoy traveling for work and meeting new people in posh events chuck full of important people.

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You probably didn’t choose your tombstone font, and your partner, friends and family didn’t care as much about it because they were completely grief-stricken in your passing. You were a middle child, people often think you are naturally independent and they would have never imagined you dead (or never gave you a place in their thoughts too much).

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You are photographer who wears black all the time and has nice, expensive clothes and don’t have to tell anyone how great you are at what you do. They just know.

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You are extremely organized, can be seen as a total bitch sometimes, but little do they know you would die (pun intended) for Ozzy Osbourne and the most recent fad in Pop Rock (because there’s literally nothing else to listen to).

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You have a lot of notebooks, and at the backs of those notebooks are a number of “different” signatures that all look the same. You like Hemingway, and people like to be around you when they want to do something new (aka boring).

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Really, Arial?! Okay, your nothing but a shell of a person. Probably started a few businesses in office equipment that failed. You’re really boring the shit outta me. Go fuck yourself.

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What My Mother Taught Me About Being A Father


My mother wasn’t a single mother. she was married to my stepfather as long as I can remember. When father’s day came every year, we gave our stepdad cards, and presents to celebrate him as if he was the loving parent he occasionally portrayed.

My sister and I knew better.

Very rarely do we experience moments of thoughtful father, and grown more used to his unreasonable fury: the man that used to choke me at the slightest mistake, or call my sister names whenever she did something wrong. He was the man that doesn’t respect my grandmother (his mother-in-law), obviously preferred his true-born sons, and received tokens of appreciation every year to orchestrate the illusion of a relatively normal family. 

I somehow recall a father’s day card that stood out from the rest, the letter praised of the lessons I learned from him, I signed my name with my heart in my throat as I feared what he would think of this complete bullshit. I knew with all the cells in my body that I wasn’t writing for him. I was writing for my mother. 

My mother was never on the receiving end of his dagger. The nights that the pain was enough not to let me sleep, she chose to turn away. Although that was a fact, she taught me more about being a father than my stepdad ever could. 

My mother taught me about true dedication, thinking more about other’s first than herself. I learned that a father’s duties didn’t stop at financial stability and discipline. Just like how a mother’s responsibility didn’t stop her children’s births. Yes my stepdad put food on the table, paid off our schooling, but it was my mom who kept the house a home as much as she could, she planned birthday parties and decorated the house for special occasions, going above and beyond so that her brood would feel as special as she believed them to be. She was there when we won, and when we had important losses. 

My stepdad was only there to exist. It was my mom that taught me that a father should be understanding, attentive, and most of all, present. And she was present enough for the both of them.

My mom is the reason why I believe in true love. She never once let us feel that we weren’t worthy of her hard work, or patience (especially when we fucked up the worst way that we could). Even at her most livid anger, she reminded us that her love was endless and forgiving. There was nothing we could do to lose it.

My father loved us, but only when it was convenient for him. My mother taught me that a father’s love should be constant, as her’s was constant enough for the both of them. 

My mother taught me about respect. That it was truly earned and not forced or taken. My father demands respect. My mom survived without it. 

When I felt like nothing, my mother made me feel like I could be everything. I could only wish that I could be that person for her as much as she was for me. 

Thank you mom, I love you, and Happy Father’s Day.