bagay-bagay is series of essays and prose written from the corner of a room, in waiting sheds, on slow afternoons, in a jeepney, with a broken heart, in an 'i-still-have-plates-but-i'll-write-anyway' moment. or this can be just a collection of reminders, who cares!

table
thoughts

in a rush of anger, "i need a pen"

• do u want to read this anxious thoughts? sure?

I keep empty sheets and a pen by my side, hoping that I might find words for things or that something revolutionary would happen, rather than just watching the world on my 5-inch phone

Some days are like a fleeting moment,butwhat ifthe only thing that's flying is my head
and the rest of my body went belowtheground.

i watched how everyone crumple and smolder to the ground as i hold myself at the corner—very careful so I won't burn.yet,
i think,
the fire
do ignite here as well,
here,
up on my very lungs,
and I'm scared.maybe;
maybe
it will lit me down to ash too,
and that terrifies me.

I've read something somewhere stating 'how will they understand if you won't speak up?' — ha! so easy to say, but in reality, it's painstaking to even just open my mouth.but I know that have to start telling people what I want, what I think I deserve, even if I have to painfully argue with them about it.ButIt's just thatI just couldn't explain the fear I felt when I started a conversation I had no idea how to win; with no words prepared but my truth, and a fragile facade of bravery with an overflowing sense of self. — the kind of feeling that fills up my chest I can't even breathe, and like my throats being held so tight that my loudest grudge just came out as nothing more than a faint whimper.That feeling. It's so scary, I don't think I'll be able to handle that again.Maybe it's really not about winning the argument, it's about the feeling of bravery and relief for standing up and believing in myself when no one else will. An assurance (maybe) that I still have myself despite clashing through everything.