My Solace

I found solace in my writing. More specifically, I found solace in my poetry. Immediately after the events that unfolded years ago (before I started college), I composed a lyrical, rhythmic piece addressed towards Jackie in Tagalog that explained what I had been going through:

Dati ko pa ‘tong iniisip sa aking utak
Kapag ika’y ngumingiti, parang ika’y bulaklak
Maganda ang itsura, matamis pa ang amoy
Buksan mo ang pinto at ako ay tutuloy
Sa iyong puso, maramdaman mo lang ginhawa
Akala ko nga ikaw ang tangi kong kasama
Matalino na, kay-tamis at ang bait
Ang ating panahon sana aking mauulit
Hindi ako nagalit noong di mo ‘ko natawagan
Sa telepono ng bahay, maliit lang ‘yan na bagay
At ito naman, sa aking palagay
Ang ating mahal ay hindi mamamatay
Ako’y nagkamali kasi sa aking isip
Tingin sa aking buhay ay panaginip
Dalawa na nga’ng babae ang gumugusto sa akin
Pareho nilang alam at umiibig pa rin
Ama namin, ano pa ang magagawa ko?
Aking pangako, kahit ano hindi susuko
Sa aking siyota, pero pangako ko’y nasira
Ano pa ba magagawa ko para sa kaniya?
Wala, kaya sa’yo ‘ko humarap
At dahil sa’yo ako ay naghihirap
Hindi mo naman alam, hindi mo na nakita
Kung paano kita minamahal sinta

Roughly translated, it says:

I’ve been thinking about this in my mind for a long time already.
When you smile, you’re like a flower:
Beautiful in appearance, and the fragrance is sweet, too.
Just open the door and I will walk through
To your heart, as long as you feel the comfort.
I had actually thought that you were my true companion
Not only smart, but also sweet and kind.
Our time together, I hope I can repeat.
I did not get angry when you did not call me
On my house phone. That was just a small thing.
And, this, in my mind:
Our love will never die.
I made a mistake in my thoughts, that’s why.
I thought my life was a dream.
Two girls already liked me;
They both knew about it, but they liked me still.
Our Father, what else can I do?
My promise: whatever happens, I won’t give up
On my girlfriend. But my promise was broken.
Now what else can I do for her?
Nothing, which is why I turned to you,
And because of you, I am struggling.
You don’t even know. You never saw
How I was loving you, my dear.

It was a piece that Jackie was never going to read or hear for a while after I wrote it. It took two more additions, and two more editions, before I would give her the poem to read on her own.

Writing was simply a way for me to express what I felt to her without her having to hear my thoughts directly. Even though I never originally intended for her to hear my words, I felt better just having been able to release them from within.