testosterone boy

sad, beautiful, tragic.

Leave this blue neighborhood.

On Wednesday morning, I was finishing up on my graveyard shift when I started to feel itchiness in my throat. Shit! I knew it was not going to be a good day for sleeping.

True enough, the coughing and feverish feeling came forward later in the day when I got up to prepare for an evening commitment. My head was heavy and it felt as if gravity was ready to knock me down the bathroom floor.

I still fought the distress my body was all too susceptible to succumb into. I went to my Wednesday night thing.

That same day I was awoken by my ringing phone: it was my sister. To my joy, I straightened up and began asking about her and mom and our other siblings and her daughter! I was just ecstatic to have had to catch up with her! I didn’t let her speak in our first two minutes on the phone, until she stopped me with―

Kuya, kelangan ko ng pera. Padala ka naman.” Brother, I need money. Please send me.

Then the next couple of minutes I had her on the line circled to why/when/how much do you need? That was it. That was all. Of course.

You know, the thing about my sister is that she maintains her communication with me, which makes me happy. She never fails to reach out whenever they need something i.e. money, hand-me-down clothes or cellphones, money. She is very consistent at that. Even my mom. Which is also sad, because I don’t really feel they care about me. At all. Well maybe they’re confident that I can manage on my own.

But it sucks. Big time!

I always have to live with the fact that the very people I expect to express affection in me are the same people who show otherwise. Hence I had become hopeful-to-the-extent-of-clingy to the idea that other people outside my family tree should give me the care and love and attention and affection I try so hard to receive. This is very upsetting, tbh. And annoying, I should add.

Other people should not be obliged to show their interest or attention in me. But I tend to shove it down their throats often that it becomes sickeningly hard to swallow. I make them feel responsible to shower me with affection―


with understanding
with acceptance
with love

And I know it is not right. I am truly and utterly sorry for being this way. I just feel so alone and neglected and uncared for. I hate to be this person. I hate to have this behavior. I hate myself for acting this way. I just couldn’t help it sometimes.

I want to leave this blue neighborhood and never come back. I just couldn’t find it in my gut to know how.


Dear John,


So I’ve listed below the things I appreciate that you did for me in no particular order. I hope that when you read this, you won’t just think about the bad times but also the good moments we shared and loved and enjoyed together. I know I will.

Okay. In no particular order:

1. You let me sleep on your chest because you knew how secured it made me feel.
2. I remember when you used to surprise me with fruity gummy bears. They’re the yummiest!
3. You watched cartoons with me even when you think they’re ridiculous.
4. On weekends when you’re in the mood, you’d cooked spaghetti for lunch with less onions because you knew I don’t like them in my food.
5. One Christmas Day, you took me to your brother’s house to have lunch with his family together with your mom. It was very nice.
6. You told me that you had chosen to be with me than somebody else because you said you’re happier when we’re together.
7. It made me feel loved when you told me I am the person you wanna spend your weekends with.
8. When you told me that you love me when we were at your friend’s hotel. That was the first time you looked at me, said the words “I love you,” and sealed it with a kiss. Sparks flew around us that moment. It was awesome! And
9. I appreciate that you showed me love and care and affection like you meant them even when you didn’t. So
10. Thanks for trying.

He’s so bad, but he does it so well.

imageHis words struck me as cold. My vision went pitch-black, my pulse quickened, my hands trembled. I had just showered that evening but I felt as if sweat was crawling all over my body. Then there were tears running down my eyes.

I felt defeated. For the nth time.

My closest friends have always been frank that I should stop letting myself fall for his fast-food love. They say I deserve to be treated fairly and be respected. What I have with him is a broken record. The fighting and keeping secrets go on and on. The routine doesn’t stop. And I just go with it. I keep coming back.

I don’t know what is wrong with me!? If it’s masochism or plain stupidity, I’m not sure which best fits what I had been doing the past 3 years. He tells me one thing and does the complete opposite. Every. Single. Time. I honestly want to let go. It’s just I love him this much that it weighs greater than all of his lackings and failures as a so-called lover.

This is all fvcked up.

All you had to do was stay.

I hate not waking up on my own bed; not knowing where I am. Sure enough, your bodies can get intimate while asleep, but then you wake up asking yourself, “What the fuck am I doing here?!”

It’s a horrible way to start a day!

Gary and I had been hooking up for a week now or so. But this was the first I had spent the night with him and I knew instantly that I had to go. I got up from his bed and, careful as I could, picked up my clothes so I could leave. And then my phone rang―

it was my Ex.
it was probably to greet me Good Morning!
or it was probably nothing.

Gary was now awake. He sat up on his bed still half-awake and asked, “Where are you going?”

“I have to go home already. Thanks for last night.” I responded whilst zipping up my pants.

“Hey, stay. I’ll make you breakfast in bed,” he responded, all the while pulling the left back pocket of my jeans toward him back to the bed. “Or…we..can be each other’s breakfast…in…this…bed.” Gary teased.

Sometimes I don’t think. Sometimes overthink things through. And sometimes, I let my dick think.

I stayed.

The fighting is over now.

When it was time to go, I knew then that it was going to be tough. Not only because I was going to leave someone I dearly loved but because I was ready to let go of the good memories we had shared. But I knew as well it was only right it ended when it did.

It took me 3 years to find out he was in another relationship. Whether or not it was equal to what he had with me didn’t matter. The truth was I had been stupid to hope it was going to work and it was alright to lower my defenses down―

for love,
for faith,
for anything there was to fight for.

I used to think one day we would tell the story of us: how we battled the world when it said we wouldn’t make it through―I was wrong. The only story to tell was how he ruined what I thought was a masterpiece. I fell in love and he pushed that aside.

It took me 3 years to realize that falling for him was never a good idea, and that I was meant to lose the battle. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had to fight for his love and commitment for so long. It’s all over and I’m fine with that now.

He made me happy and feel special in those three years. I am confident too that I had reciprocated that in that same amount of time. Despite of the secrets and lies, I am more than happy that somehow I was able to make him feel genuinely loved in a way nobody else can and probably nobody else could. And I am happy for the fact that it was my only part in his life.

The fighting is over now.

Blank space. 

“I had the best days with you,” he said. His gaze was wide and comforting. It was almost impossible not to believe him. “You have always made me proud.”

“But I don’t remember who you are!” I exclaimed!












I looked all through my mind for memories of him. Unable to find any, I had to take his word for it that he was my father.

These are the words I held back.

Stephan Jenkins was enjoying the night, dancing to the 80’s hits like “Always” by Erasure. He danced as if the songs were written just for him, as if the party was never going to end, as if the pub was inside a time-space warp that brought him to his teenage days. He was having a lot good of a time.

I was watching him.

Although I was busy entertaining myself as well as the folks who attended the party our management team worked hard to accomplish, my head was somewhere else. Perhaps someone else. Everybody was partying and jamming on the dance floor with him so I took the opportunity to take glances at him from across the bar knowing nobody would really take notice, just as how I didn’t notice the shots of tequila and glasses of rum Coke I’d down as I steal glances at him. 

He looked happy.

As the evening went and the alcohol in everyone’s drink had finally kicked in, I knew I had to man up to get his attention. “Hey, are you having fun? Do you want anything?” I asked when I was able to get close to him surrounding a sea of tipsy faces. 

He reached closer to my ears so I could hear him: “I’m okay. Maybe just water.” That was my cue. 

I got him his glass of water and we were standing at the bar. Even the pub reeks of alcohol, sweat and cigarette smoke, his perfume remained unaltered by the mix. But he was also sweating so I handed him my hanky. That was a long shot but I was determined to put it out there. Smart move, Justin haha.

It was our first time hanging out; and with the crowd mostly itching to get his attention, I had not expected he would take it. Maybe he was only being polite or maybe I was too insistent. Regardless, he took my offer in kind. That was more than enough. 

The next dancing and singing scenes, he was wiping off sweat on his face, neck and nape with my hankerchief. And no, I’m not crazy so I never planned on smelling it obsessively or not putting it in the laundry. I was just so glad that maybe he had seen my good intentions in making him comfortable throughout the party. 

He thanked and smiled at me countless times. It felt good. The night panned out wonderfully and I was blushing on the way home.

Stephan Jenkins, it was enchanting to meet you.