Skills and Mums

Seven months ago, my sister-in-law gave birth to our little bundle of joy. Small as she was, she turned our lives in ways we never deemed possible. She painted our gray walls yellow with her smiles. Her little achievements masked out the weary air at home. We are happier. My parents are back to feeling fresh again. Our days rolled by differently and each day is peppered with laughter and giggling and video taking. 

Speaking of such, my intent upon writing is to tell about an observation from an incident with her last week. My mother sent a message saying our baby could now sing. She is a 7 month ball of fluffiness - 7 month and she could sing! I got a bit too excited so I planned on testing it first thing when I pay a home visit. We ended up doing it the whole day though. 

Actually, I’m not sure if singing is the right word for her talent. It works like this: My mother (Her Granny) would sing “I have two hands” as she moves the baby’s hands (as if to dance), then, the baby would smile and giggle at first and later on sings with only” a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a” She’d keep on singing only until she feels like doing so.  I don’t know if this is normal but for a toothless, hairless little ball to be able to do this is pure awesome for me. I wondered how she learned it. Then I realized my mom taught her to do it.

My mom taught her the same way she taught us as kids. I just remembered this now. Of course we know this as a fact but it’s just always on the back of our heads. I suddenly feel light and loaded with an odd feeling . Does this even make sense? haha

My mom is the one who should take credits for most of the skills that we possess. All our lives, Our (siblings) mindsets dictate that we owe our talents  to our father, being the talented, skillful and smart guy that he is ( see, pops, I also sprinkled some flattery for you here hehe) We would often tease our mom with how talentless she is and that we’re lucky to take after our father. Why, all of us can draw except her! She would always give a hearty laugh at this as my father beamed with pride. 

But actually, she is the one who nurtured what we had. She is the one who led to the discovery of what we can do. She is the one who repeatedly sang songs to us so we would develop our language mastery. She did a hundred things repeatedly when we were little so we’d learn things by heart. All of those and still the credit slipped inside the hands of my father. My father was a big part too, of course. But my mother… all of us are her drafts and masterpieces.  I think my estimation of mothers suddenly shot up. It’s like they’re given a clean sheet of paper and it’s up to them to make a hundred things out of it. Isn’t this just astounding?

We’d always make remarks on how my niece is developing so fast and it just goes to show that my mother’s hands are still full of power and magic as always. Hats off to all the moms responsible for creating wonders through their kids all over the world! You are all amazing in a thousand ways.

To Patricia

I know you will not land here by accident. You’re here for a reason and whatever that may be I want to thank you for being here.

Actually, I wanted to write for weeks but just couldn’t find the motivation to do so. I know that I must go back because I usually just waste my time scrolling through my phone when I’m not here. Honestly, I still don’t have that motivation. But there must be another way, right? I can always write something from the heart. I know that will never fail. Let’s see how it goes from here.

Yesterday my student from my part time job told me I am beautiful inside. I don’t know why it had such an impact on me but I was moved. I felt the sincerity perhaps because I didn’t do anything worth a compliment that day.  He just made a sentence about beauty and casually dropped it on me leaving me speechless for a while. I said a lot of people are like that but he disagreed and told me he only knows two people who are beautiful inside: me and his girlfriend. I felt like a good person for the first time since I don’t know when.

Thinking about it now, it dawned on me that I don’t really get that much compliment about my character. I do get commendations and I’m always grateful but I realized that what really weighs the most in a person is his character. I think it’s kind of stupid for me to just realize this but all along, deep down, I know this in my heart. It’s just easy to study and learn things than to be good and kind I guess. 

I worked on feeding my mind but eventually failed in achieving wisdom because my character is still not something I can be proud of. But you, you have attained it. When I told you, you are the kindest person I know - that is the sincerest thing I’ve said in a long time. 

I’m not saying that you’re the nicest, but you are really nice of course everybody knows that. Kindness is another story though, not everyone can keep it when the going gets tough. I feel so lucky to know someone who has a heart as pure and as gentle as yours. Your parents must be really proud because I am and I know all the people around you are just as proud, too. 

You do not fear baring your soul to anyone and that’s pure courage. Your sorrow is just as genuine as your joy and I’ve never seen someone as real as you.  Your humility is so refreshing in a world when everyone wants to look big and mighty. You have an open mind an open heart and you are not quick to judge. You dress up and act without having to worry if it would please people or not. You’re just you being simple and unattached to the ideals of the generation. On top of that you are very generous with compliments when you yourself deserve more of it.How many people are like that nowadays, really…

I hope I can be just as good. But being the cynical girl that I am I can only do so much.  Maybe I will just have you as an inspiration; to remind myself to choose kindness all the time. It’s hard for someone like me but I’ll try. 

And someday, if God permits, I would like to have a daughter just like you.

You’re a good soul, Patricia.

Ode for our Ma'am Cora

When I first saw you there lying in peace, I thought you looked beautiful - more beautiful than you’ve been in the past few months. However, I still prefer the latter because in spite of your tiny frame and feeble body, you had a smile in your face.

You had a voice. 

You had life. 

That very moment I was reminded of our last conversation, the first thing you said when you saw me was that “You look beautiful. “ ( Ang ganda mo). You told me I look better now that I’ve gained weight. You said you didn’t like how I was when I lost so much weight. I understood what it meant to you, I knew that we were not just talking about me. We were talking about you and how you’ve changed after getting sick. You were happy for me looking healthy, because you know what it’s like on the other side…

You reminded me to take vitamins and to avoid abusing my body. You asked me to take care of myself but I didn’t get that those were already your farewell words. I wanted to hug you before I made for the door, I glanced back at you one last time and thought of visiting your place again some time before Christmas. 

And visiting you, I did; before Christmas day as planned.  And I saw you, but you didn’t…and you never will anymore. 

When I learned about your exit, I was on the office and I made some intentional occasional trips to the restroom to vent out. I knew how terrible things already were but like everything else, I was not prepared for this.  I am just relieved with the fact that we made our subtle farewells before you left for heaven. I want to tell you that just like the hundreds of people who love you, I will surely miss you.

My most unforgettable moment with you was when we had a sleepover in your place. There were three of us but when you joined in I think I spent more time talking with you than I did, them. You had so much life and enthusiasm, you were genuinely interested with my stories and you even ask me to get you as a godmother when I get married someday. What am I gonna do now Ma’am?

Once, I went to your house quite late and you informed me that Jho (her daughter, my bestfriend)  was not around. I stayed for a while to help you with the decorations for your classroom. We talked about things and you told me how my friends felt when I become distant. You told me never to let myself get hurt in a relationship as much as I can. You told me not to let go of the upper hand, you reminded me to take care of all that relationships that I have. That talk didn’t feel awkward. If anything it made me feel loved, it made me feel like I’m being cared for.

Each time someone’s head will pop on your door, you will brag about us ( daughter’s friends) being good and smart and all the things a mother usually boasts about her own child.  If I wanted to redeem my self-esteem all I have to do is pay a visit actually. In your side, I actually mattered; I know the others will say the same too. I liked myself those times I was with you. Now who’s going to do that for me…

All these flattery is nothing when it comes to you boasting about Joan when she’s not around. I have witnessed it; you were brimming with pride when talking about your children. If I were you I’d feel the same because you have raised them really well. They say no family is all-sunshine, I’d like to make yours an exemption. You have weathered so many storms but you chose to dance with its thunderbolts instead. I revere you for that. Good job once again ma’am Cora.

I know you won’t be able to read any of these anymore. I just want people to know how big of a loss you are to me and that I am sad that our sessions have ended. On the other hand I’m happy that you are past all the pain and I find comfort in the idea of you dancing up there with a healthier body now.

So long, Ma’am Cora.  

Dear Anne Frank

Dearest Anne Frank,

I thought of writing you the moment I finished leafing through your diary. I wanted to tell you you made it. I wanted to congratulate you because your work made it past the annex and beyond the pacific. I wish to tell you how I admire you as a girl and as an artist. But I’m writing you out of helplessness now. Can I tell you how I feel Anne?

I’m writing to you now because I have just sunken so low. My heart can only take so much; I know very well you’d understand what it’s like. I am trapped within my own annex, without an attic or a Peter to appease me. I feel so alone Anne. I’ve always felt that way but I feel like a rejected, rotten potato left alone inside a sack. I need friends, but I can’t call one. I haven’t been good to anyone and I don’t deserve one if you ask me.

I might be depressed, but I might just be overthinking. I know I am unhappy, I have been unhappy for a while now. I’d like to think I’m just having an interesting life story, but the fact I made so many bad decisions is overwhelming for it has been breathing down my neck.

I used to think I’m different in a good way, now I see myself as someone lesser than most people I know. This is the truth Anne, for if it’s not, then why am I always falling short in everything? Why are people with worse condition less miserable than I am? I am rotten deep down and there are too many things I’m incapable of. These days I feel like I’m not really good at writing at all.

Today I’m throwing the towel.

I know I am strong -but the exasperating battle with my two inner wolves ends here. I will admit defeat.

I am not smart nor wise after all. I am stupid to think I have wisdom. I can’t even stray away from the quicksand. I want to go somewhere far, alone. But I need people too. Pathetic. I’m tired of crying to sleep. I’m tired of trying hard not to weep. I’m tired of everything. Last night I felt like I understood people who chose not to play the game of life anymore. I was on the edge.  Then I heard God.

We had a heart to heart that night.

-          J.

( I’ll tell you more tomorrow)

If not in school, where would you rather be?

 If you are not in school, where would you rather be?”

This is what pops out of my head every time I see school-hatred posts. Alright, let’s say that in another dimension, school is not THAT important, again, where would you rather be?

I want answer for this, because I can’t find one myself. Imagine if you learned everything on your own-from your house, from the streets, from the bar, from a battlefield, or from your friend’s house. Even if this becomes possible, it wouldn’t be as fun or as meaningful as being schooled. Your book of life would lack sufficient characters and it would be bland and boring.

A tad bit of everything you need to be equipped with in life- School gives you exactly that. If you have watched the movie “Colombiana,” there’s a scene wherein the protagonist’s uncle was prodding her to go to school because she didn’t want to. She wanted to be a killer. The uncle who’s almost out of patience then demonstrated something that changed her perspective. (No, I’m not saying it, watch the movie, it stars the smoking-hot Zoe Saldana) Her uncle sealed the lesson by saying “If you want to be a killer, you have to learn the basics, you learn the basics there (pointing at the school)”or something like it. Yeah, bad example I know. HAHAHA. But the point is you have to learn the basics to weather the storms in life. School is the pool of basics. You have to be there.

School is the best place to strive for excellence. You won't have too many a chance to display brilliance from other place compared to when you are in school. It is the best place for let downs too. You would see from a pool of learners that we all have our fair share of that. 

I’ve finished school for almost three years now and I feel that the years I spent there are still not enough. I was not a perfect student (tell you more about this in another post) but I value school because I can’t imagine what kind of person I would’ve turned to without it. Without the knowledge I have acquired I would be deprived of tools in manoeuvring my ship. Without working values, I wouldn’t be able to live amicably with the souls and the zombies of the society.

Without my classmates, I won’t discover half the kind of people that walked the Earth. If I wasn’t in school back then, would the introvert me even have the chance to gain friends? Maybe yes. But I won’t have the chance to build a strong relationship with any.

If you have noticed, up until this point I have still not expounded how important school is. I was just enumerating the snippets of education life. I hope you get the point though, my life as a student was just as rough as yours. I’ve been bullied by my classmates and I’ve been power tripped by some mentors too. Twice, I skipped school because I ran out of money.

Through all this, I will choose school over and over again. A big part of who I am is how school molded me. How about you, where would you rather be?

  

The 20th floor button.

Easy. This is not a horror story. hehe

 This is what I should’ve worked on first thing when I set this blog up. This should have been the first entry. This made my hand itch to write again. So here it goes.

If you have noticed, the title I chose is not about the 20^th floor itself, it’s about the elevator button. This is plainly because I haven’t been to that floor myself. (Except that I experience being in the 20^th floor when someone goes in or off the elevator, of course)

 However, I have seen the tenants of the 20^th floor. In fact, I see them every day, I don’t figuratively rub elbows with them but literally, it happens a lot. It’s not the same with other people, but with them, it’s always different.

Our unit is on the 22^nd floor of a beat up, high rise commercial building somewhere in Ortigas, Pasig. There are 33 floors all in all. Most units are occupied by ESL teaching offices, some, probably by other commercial establishments, and one, by a school with very adorable students.

They are the children of the 20^th floor. And they are somewhat different, a little more special. Our society calls them “special children.”

They are very sweet and energetic. They make our (building tenants) elevator rides a little more bearable. (Our elevator is sordid, worn out and unreliable) Some kids sing, some dance; others just goof around and play the elevator guy role sometimes. So cute!

Once while inside the elevator, there was this kid who resembles the famous cartoon character” Shin Chan “. He was slightly pressing his foot onto one of mine while anticipating his father’s reaction.  His father called him off and told him he was misbehaving. The little boy started crying and so his dad pulled him up and into his arms. The little boy started giggling with victory for we fell for his little gag. I giggled a little too. In my peripheral vision, I saw his dad doing the same. The kid smiled at me as if we were long-time friends. I wish we were.

These children have something in them most of us lack. They are sweet, sincere, and they’re very generous in sharing their smiles. I know one personally, He’s 21 years old and he is one of our Church Priest’s assistant. He does his job so well you would think he’s just as mature as the other guys his age. He is also an elementary school principal’s son. During weekdays you can spot him on the school ground playing with kids as if he were just their age. The thing is he just doesn’t just play with them; he looks after the kids and makes sure the herd won’t flee from the fence. I know because my sister studies there.

The next time you bump into one of those cuties anywhere, never forget to smile because more often than not, they will smile back and it will make your day for sure. 

Kids CAN'T tell (LGBT and the media)

With the recent legalization of what were then tagged as taboos, I couldn’t help but look at freedom again as a puppet of chaos alluring and inviting in bright and blinding colors. Everyone has something to say and even kids are brought and/or dragged to events that are unruly and complicated in nature. (Sigh)

God and the bible are already involved so you can say that things are getting pretty serious. It’s summer-hot out there the word “burn” has never been as battered as it is right now.

I adhere to one idea on my part: not everything can be permitted in this world. We can but we’re only inviting speedy obliteration in general. I have this pesky feeling that the world is surely nearing its finish line; I’ve been shaking it off and I think I succeeded in the sense of getting rid of that feeling. From just a feeling it has now evolved into a theory, I hope it stops right here.

I have nothing against people coming out and displaying affection on public but I am bothered by the thought of children audiences who have not developed a good sense of understanding yet. Give them time to learn things. If delicate things are to be accepted, let them (kids) learn the basics first. They need a strong foundation of knowledge, experiences and understanding for them to take it all in.

Please, do not ask them to stand for something they do not fully understand. Do not take them out on the streets to wave flags. If they want to, let them when they’re old enough. Kids can’t tell which is which yet. Kids can’t tell. Yet. Spare them.

Let us not rush things, women waited for a number of years before they were granted privileges and until now they’re still proving their worth.

With the social media being more powerful than ever, everything exposed to the public is on a certain degree a “promotion” to the naïve minds.  I hope that the people behind giant TV networks will care more for the kids than money because it was possible back then. Let kids talk about “kids’ stuff” and let adults have their own thing to chat about.

Promote patience and perseverance. Promote values on top of everything else. 

Hang on, tears

Picked my flats off to brave the gusty dawn

It’s a gift in this road I’m the only spawn

Hurry feet, look, the dam is almost full

In a snap I would look like a total fool

In a daze and I am almost desperate

From my heart please let me separate

My tears and my footsteps are in a race

I won’t tell you the story through my face

Hold on tears, I will just unlock the door

Once inside, you may fall on the floor

Will you be kind enough just to hide with me?

I was hoping that is how it is gonna be

I’ll dress up and you may stop falling all at once

I gave in, and you just had your one chance

I will summon thee once things start to fall apart

Right now, you and I must start to depart. 

I don't like my body.

No, I don’t like my body.

I’m fat. Others (try to) take pride in this, I don’t. I could’ve done better than abusing my body and neglecting it out of glutton and laziness. I’m not shoving this on the faces of those who are just like me. This is just how I feel. There’s nothing to be proud about a body that limits me in so many facets.

No, I’m not into body shaming. However, I strongly believe in the power of true words. I can no longer tie my shoe laces nor clean my toes without feeling like I just did something so arduous. In the past, I could walk at a great distance but now doing so takes so much energy. I’m tied to my bed because moving so much is way too uncomfortable.

I don’t want to get used to this just so I would try to embrace a new bod. I would never embrace a body that kills my potential to its tiniest. I tried to jog for at least an hour sometime this past May but it only lasted for 5 pathetic days. Something happened that took my mornings and since I work from the afternoon and reach home shortly before midnight, I was left dead tired through the day.

I missed jogging. It took me loads of efforts to get up that particular week. My mornings were torn between getting up and staying in heaven once I hear the alarm ring. For a month, I stayed in my heavenly bed and hoped that my dream would stay awake the next day, but it didn’t until one crazy morning. I just got up, washed up, put my sporty clothing on and went off.

It was hard at first, hell; walking alone is already wearing me out. I had labored breathing and I felt like passing out.  I decided it’s best if I start on a slower pace. I expected I’d be exhausted when I reported to the office the same afternoon but what happened was just the exact opposite. That has been my most energetic day in three years! The succeeding days were a breeze. It made me feel alive once again.

It’s been months and I’m a bigger snowball now. Winter just doesn’t stop and I’m lifeless as always. I don’t like my body. I’m going to say it repeatedly because this is a problem and I need to acknowledge it. It’s just like an attitude, you don’t go bragging about how imperfect you are just because you feel that it’s who you are. That’s not what you are. That’s a part of you. No. That’s “THE” part of you that needs improving so don’t get so butt hurt when you hear unpleasant remarks. Alright, you cannot control how you feel so what you can do is not to take it against them. Focus on yourself. Focus.

I cannot buy new clothes because I’m waiting for the time when I’m happiest with my body. This way, I can use those clothes longer and I will have better options. I want to tell you more about the things I can no longer do but this is already turning into a novel so I have to make a conclusion now. Lol.

“We work out not because we hate our bodies; we work out because we love them” – this is the “mantra” of the zumba class I loved watching when I was jogging. It makes so much sense if you think about it. Self love is not always about acceptance. Self love must be tough love if you want to get better.

(A letter for my lazy self) 

Hiling

Sometime in the past decade, I have watched a 1998 Family fanteserye piece by Star Cinema. (I watched it years after it first graced the silver screen) This movie’s title is “Hiling.” (Wish) It touched the stagnant river in my mind and until now the water remains moving, very subtle but yes, moving.

The story is oddly simple but startlingly deep and loaded. It’s about a girl named “Ana” played by the then-so-adorable Camille Prats. She is an ordinary kid with an extraordinary height of sensitivity.  The young girl witnessed as her parents fought regularly. It made her so blue she started to ponder about happiness and human desire.

Her feelings were fuelled by what she saw in their busy streets too. (1990’s: Times when children frequented the streets during daylight and not past midnight) There seemed to be a plague infecting everyone in the community. Everybody cried for something and the girl took it that they, too, were just as miserable as her parents were.

In the depths of her heart a silent wish welled up. She hoped that everyone would have what they want to achieve happiness. On her birthday, she met a stranger who granted this wish. All she had to do was make them say their wishes as she touched them with her palm. Then voila, wish granted.

Ana's grandmother defending Ana from the the blames she was taking

Ana listens to Arnhell's( Ogie Diaz) wish to become a woman

Elwood (Paolo Contis) is troubled with women who hunted him day and night

Things completely transformed from then on. She was like a genie filling up the empty holes in her neighbours lives, or at least she thought before the neighborhood went both crazy and chaotic.

She soon discovered that giving people what they want doesn’t always make them happy. We all have that thinking don’t we? The world is too big a place yet it can never fill the endless desires of its inhabitants. I am confident that even if it can suffice, it will never guarantee us happiness. We are all conditioned to think that what we want is what will make us happy. But if you’ve lived long enough to receive so much from this world, you’d understand why it wouldn’t. At times, what we want can be deceiving and dangerous even if it seemed so good.

That is the first lesson I learned from the story. The second one is the most important for me, personally. It’s the part when the stranger, Gina Pareño told Ana this:

“Malaki kasi ang puso mo kaya madali kang masaktan.” (You have a big heart so you easily get hurt)

 

I think I am like that in a way. I am sensitive and the littlest of things worry me so it’s hard to be happy sometimes. I keep a nonchalant temperament to show that I am brave but every time I see homeless people ,I feel  terrible and I can’t help but feel so blessed; If I feel that my loved ones are in pain, my heart feels so heavy and more often than not it leaves me feeling so stressed out.

I am aching to see people happy, too; If only things are not that complicated.

Perhaps, we cannot be happy all the time. It’s impossible and it shouldn’t be. Life would lose its meaning. We will never grow and we will never come up with solutions to our problems. Being happy all the time is not being happy at all if you’d think about it.

We need failures, disappointments and rejection so our happiness will be at its sweetest. We need absence so we can appreciate presence. We need to stumble so we would learn to brave the road ahead.

We cannot be happy all the time. We cannot turn things around even if we try hard. We cannot always make people happy even if we mean well. Getting what we want doesn't promise a happy heart but understanding "why" will at least leave us less troubled.

I think if we are to keep this in mind, we can look at the dark times as if it’s just the dawn giving birth to the sunrise. This way, life may appear more flawed than ever but it gets a little more exciting and interesting.

Gone

The night has been so wrong

It felt so right for one good song

And as the melody played on

I think of happy days long gone

What was it like, under the light?

If there we stayed, is it alright?

Nobody said a word that night

We all just faded out of sight

Sealed in silence, wired in prayers

We made a vow never to part ways

I used to cling tightly to “Always”

But now it stops after the long chase

One step forward creates the past

Plain and simple, nothing lasts
when moments pass, they turn to dust 

at times I pray the longing stops

A letter of apology

To my future baby, I am writing to tell you I’m sorry.

I didn’t want to have you. 

Well I did, but just a few days ago, I was tuned in on this documentary and something hit me really hard. It got me feeling scared. I was so scared honey, I wondered if bringing you into this world would be a good idea, because right that very moment, I was convinced it’s absolutely not.

What kind of soul do I have for not wanting an angel from God? A lost soul, maybe? Because that’s the kind I have right now. I have dreamt of you even when I was little. I am just terrified that the world you’ll see is only a thin, cold, stale slice of bread when it used to be big, plenty and warm.

You see, your mama is very much into documentaries. It’s like a magnifying glass that allows you to see things on closer inspection. What’s funny is, I didn’t even appreciate social studies back in my schooling years. Somehow, it wedged a place in my heart and has crept on me as I grew older. I have seen things I can’t unsee no matter how I try; parts of the history teachings I didn’t pay attention to until that period repeated itself in front of my indisposed eyes. 

Week after week, wars breaking out here and there flooded the news. Effects of the stubborn global warming are no longer irregular items to the ears and eyes of the public. To some, these serve as warnings, to most: plain news and possible topic of gossip. Believe me, honey, I tried to act on it, I just didn’t have the guts to stand up for it. Mama is not proud of this; I hope you will forgive me for what I didn’t do…

 (Photos taken in Syria, these things are happening as I write)

It was so far away, but mama can hear some gunshots sometimes. I can see the trembling kids run feebly through the rubbles on hard times. I can taste the bitterness of salty tears pouring down the hollow cheeks of people who refused to be part of this one, big annihilation scheme. I can feel the fear buried deep inside the hearts of reluctant men forced to slay whoever poses as threats to their lives. I do honey, but sadly I am just an audience, all sorts of feelings I get when I think is nothing compared to what the people in the actual game feel. Things I will die for just for you to be spared from experiencing, let alone feeling.

I have seen you also, during those bright days when I become unreachable to the world. I have seen you so tiny and soft, pink and fragile, a part of myself, and a part of someone I deeply love. I can see joy in your father’s eyes as you tug his sleeve with your little scrawny hand.  I have seen you turn things around; I have seen you change the world for me, for us.

If only I can change the world for you, too. But, I can’t, I can’t do it alone.

You see mama wanted to make a change, I have tried to help the world age, for you to still see the things my eyes have laid on, for you to still experience what nature has been generously giving, for you to enjoy life being plain and simple as it was. But I’m afraid, no –terrified, that if you’re reading this it’s already too late.

A 33° c temperature ten years ago is different from the same 33° c temperature nowadays. I don’t have technical knowledge about these things but I know the feeling of basking under the sun when I was little. I remember dreading your grandmother’s scolding when I stay out while the sun is up and proud. Now I fear going out and it’s the kind of fear that doesn’t include your grandmother’s rage anymore. It’s because the heat is simply unbearable.

And how can I tell you this honey, I don’t know how without guilt crawling under my skin... We took the world and lived in it as if everything is at our disposal. We have thought about you, too. But maybe we’re not wise or caring enough to think while we devour everything we thought is everlasting. 

According to the documentary, if nothing changes with the way we consume things; by 2025 our supply of potable water is already a major problem, at least here in the Philippines. What year is it now? This crisis has already tried Sao Paolo, Brazil earlier this first quarter - A land known for its abundance of natural riches. Listen, Mama used to hear that our country was just as gifted when it comes to natural sources, too. I don’t see much of them now, I feel no scarcity but I haven’t heard the word “lavishness” of anything natural and valuable for quite a while now. I wonder what it’s like in your time.

Are there still strong trees to climb on? Or can you breathe clean air? (I can’t use fresh anymore; it’s a luxury right now) Will you be able to enjoy the beach on summer? Will you be able to see a cloudy sky? Will you thank Mama for bringing you out? Will you be able to survive... 

If you are reading this, you are probably surviving, and I hope, you are well and healthy. I hope things have changed, for the better and I hope it won’t stop turning for what’s good. 

I am sorry, sincerely, for not thinking about you or the Earth –our only home in this vast, intimidating universe. I am sorry if I have thought of not having you at all. I want you, I love you and I think some people will, too. I will bring you out in this world as a gift to mankind; I will bring you to tell everyone I have hope that we can still do something out of selfishness. I want you, and I know that you’ll be wiser and stronger. I will bring you here, because you deserve this life as much as we all do. 

I will have you, because I love you.

And to the future kids: We’re sorry, I hope that you’ll find it in your heart - the forgiveness we didn’t deserved so much to have. We have faith in you, saving our home takes more than just a generation, but efforts count big. We have tried and we still try, if others will not, it doesn’t mean that you should not.

In your journey, don’t forget the future ones too. You wouldn’t want to write a letter like this.
 

Trust me; it WILL get worse if you won’t listen. You might not have anyone to send letters to if we don’t act while we can.