This is actually the speech I made for our SpeechComm finals and I just decided to post it here because... I barely write now. Yeah, sad, I know.

Today I have with me, this mascara. The very same mascara that I used when my first love broke the living shit out of my heart. The very same mascara I was wearing when my dream university's exam results came out. The very same mascara I was wearing when I was called a bitch at our family reunion. Ironic, right? All those shitty moments, and I was wearing the same mascara. But no, it's not a coincidence. It's to keep me from crying. Because you don’t just waste your 2 hour effort of putting on makeup like that.

In my 18 years of existence, I’ve lived a pretty rough life. I’ve had people here and there that would occasionally tell me I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I’m fat, I’m a loser. Back then the most precise thing I probably would’ve done is look at the mirror and let their opinions sink in, eat me from the inside and say they’re probably right, then I blame myself for being such a shameful human being. But don’t we all have that fairy godmother that will always tell us that everything’s gonna be fine, that you’re a beautiful young lady that everyone just seems to misinterpret? That fairy godmother that most of you refer to as “mom”. Well, my awesome fairy godmother told me to start being a lady and toughen up. She told me I’m not pretty. She told me I’m beautiful. She didn’t wipe my tears. She told me to stop crying. And from that moment on, I became the best version of myself.

Because a branded, 1,500 peso mascara, is not for a crying mess like you and me. You don't wanna ruin a good mascara just because of your petty little problems brought to you by petty little people, NO. They are NOT worth ruining your makeup, NO. They are NOT worth wasting your branded mascara, NO. What they deserve, is the agony of looking at your drop dead gorgeous resting bitch face that will prove to them that they are NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. So what if they think you're weak or a bitch? Put them in their places and don't you dare go down on their level. Because trust me, you don't wanna be that kind of girl.

The kind of girl you'd want to be is the kind that never lets anyone judge her, or tell her that she's lower than she is. The kind of girl that doesn't need saving, the kind that doesn't need a prince charming to have a happy ending. Oh, you're a princess? Then bow down because I'm the queen bitch! All those people talking behind your back, ignore them! They're behind you for a reason. I learned that in life, to get someone’s attention, you have stop giving them yours.

So don’t tell me that there are many rocks in the sea, because I deserve a purple crystal. Now that I know my self-worth, I am never lettling for less. I am never going back to being that girl who keeps herself locked up in insecurities and meaningless opinions. I am never going back to that girl who wastes a good amount of mascara by letting it drizzle down her face, letting other people know her weaknesses and inner demons. 

Being confident doesn’t mean that we think so highly of ourselves. It only means that we’re smart enough to filter out unimportant opinions that could possibly kill our self-esteem, and only leave those details we need to hear to make ourselves better. Being confident doesn’t mean killing all your demons, it just means that we’re good enough in hiding them from the people that will judge us for it, and being smart enough to reveal them to those that will care and make an effort to heal them.

Today I have with me, this mascara. The very same mascara that I used when my first love broke the living shit out of my heart. But I smiled. Screw him! I'm a whole lot better than the girl I'll be if I still keep on chasing jerks like him. So go on and wear those killer heels, pop that red lipstick, and put on that expensive ass mascara that's worth more than everybody else. Walk all over them with your head up high, because they would kill to see you fall.

They tell me I'll never really go anywhere far. 

They tell me I'm better off somewhere else. 

They tell me I'm not good enough to be who I want to be. 

They tell me a lot of things. 

But what do they know? 

People has zero clue on what goes on behind closed doors. 

And frankly, some of these people are those who seem to have a lot to say. 

I am here to make a difference. I'm one of the people who strive everyday to give a bigger meaning to words coming out of your mouth. 

The job seems big and extravagant, but the only tools I've got is a pen, a paper, and a huge room for imagination. 

That's my sanctuary, and I'm sure you have yours too. 

I wear a communication shirt proudly down the halls. 

You walk past me and think “ so will she be on TV soon?,” 

Limited, very limited. Annoying.

You have no idea of all the drafts and unorganized pages of a novel that I've been writing for more than a year. 

It's a simple stereotype that keeps me imprisoned from showing you and the rest of the world what I'm capable of. 

A lot of people tell me that I should've just gone a different path. 

Then I tell them, "What's wrong with this one? It seems fine to me."

It took me a good amount of time that it's not me who's the problem, it's society. 

I want the world to see me as I am, not as what they're conditioned to

think I am. 

If the world could open up its mind a little more, then maybe I'd seem a bit different. Maybe then I'd finally be a candidate of the world's greatest. Because that's where I, we, deserve to be.

This is who I am.

After everything has been said and done
Believe me when I say the feelings aren't gone
Clinging away from what we had still brings me the same pain
Damned memories of us will stay and I'm the one to blame

Estranged is a really deep and tragic word
Far from the days when I'm the one you adored
Gone are what we wanted to be 473 days ago
How could you be so far away? You're so high yet I'm so low.

I never imagined us this way
Just give me a chance and tell me you'll stay
Kiss me again until it feels right
Love me and hold me and don't say goodnight.

My brokenness is slowly killing me
Nighttime and daytime I cry while you sleep
Over and over it feels just the same
Perhaps what I'm feeling can never be tamed

Questions unanswered and feelings unsaid
Reality sinks in and bothers my head
Suddenly I thought maybe you're not worthwhile
Though it may hurt right now, I'll just give it some time

Unlove you and take back the words that I bid
Vows that we made, mistakes that we did
Were all the right things that now feels so wrong
X lover, someone I used to know for so long

You're gone and you left me with all the price to pay
Zoneless memories of us shall soon fade away

(the ending sucks)

I was five when I started to believe that there was no such thing as a "young adult" phase. I just believed that one day, I'll wake up, and I'll be a full grown adult. Everything was that easy for me, thirteen years ago. It was like believing that today is Halloween then tomorrow it's Christmas, that Paris and Manila were just two doors away. As if there's no such thing as transition.

We are that transition, or at least that's how I see it.

Everyone keeps on telling me that I'm still young, that life will get harder eventually. But in the back of my mind I tell them, isn't transition the hardest phase? The universe started out pitch black. But after it's transition, everything is suddenly in perfect place. The skies were a perfect blue, the grass was green, the water was crystal clear.

So why is everyone insisting that the heartbreak I'm feeling now is the least of my problems? Didn't they fall in love at least once? Didn't they know that if it wasn't for heartbreak, they would be a hell of a lot weaker than they are today?

They tell me I'm just too lazy to study and that I'm just wasting the education I'm getting, spoken like a valedictorian. There's always a rainbow after the rain. But didn't they know that they are the rainbow, and I am the rain?

I'm eighteen. I make mistakes. But weren't we all eighteen once? So why are they talking to me like they never had a childhood, like they have never seen rain, like they've never experienced pain?

We are the transition, the change, the premise of who we will be one day. So why do people keep on pointing out my mistakes like they're a whole lot better than me?

We are different in each other's eyes. But in my 475/500 vision, we are all the same.

I am a metamorphosis, and one day everyone will see my worth too.

I am a purple crystal in a sea of rocks
Maybe I seem weak. Maybe I've made it look like I cling on to you most of the time
But I deserve better than you

We are a bizarre combination
I'm the sun and you're heliocentric
We are a spectrum made up of unclear wavelenghts

Why do you keep on proving your superiority to me?
Your infidelity is a meteorite while I am the atmosphere
I can make you or I can break you

I am a twilight, rising softly and finally
Breaking away from what we had
We are the sun, slowly setting below the horizon

We used to blame it all on force
Saying that we found each other in the middle of the galaxy
But the truth is I am the galaxy itself

It's 9:15, and Sierra and Leo are at the airport. It's Sierra's big day, and they're waiting for the plane that'll take her to New York. It's gonna be a completely big change for her. A new job, new house, new friends, new environment... A new life without Leo.

"Do you want to dance?" Leo said. Without even waiting for an answer, he stood up and offered his hand to Sierra. Sierra looked around, laughing, and looked at Leo. "What are you doing?"

"Dance with me. It's gonna be our last dance until you come back." Leo said.

Sierra took Leo's hand, stood up and danced. They kept spinning, and laughing, and spinning again. People are starting to look at them, but they didn't care. They were already too busy laughing at themselves.

"I'm sorry." Leo said.
"'Why?" Sierra asked.

Leo stared at her for a while, then said "Do you know something about Angular Momentum?", as if he didn't hear Sierra's question. "Uhm, no. Tell me." She said.

"It's the measure of how much rotation an object has, by taking into account its mass, shape and speed. It's a vector quantity that describes the rotary inertia of a system about an axis and is conserved in a closed system. Because of its rotation about its axis, the Earth has rotational angular momentum, and orbital angular momentum on account of its annual revolution around the sun." Leo said.

"Did you memorize that?" Sierra said.
"Yes, actually I did." he said.
"Why are you telling me this?" she said.

"Just in case you didn't notice, we are dancing counterclockwise. And if you understood the logic of what I have just said, you'll know that I am fighting the angular momentum of the earth. Which means I'm making it the tiniest bit slower, and when the earth turns slower, time is slower. I'm willing to spin counter clockwise all night, Sierra. Just to make my time here with you longer. I'm sorry, Sierra, it's my fault your flight took longer than it should be."

Sierra kissed him, and looked at her watch. "It seems to be working, because dancing with you feels like forever, but it's just 9:18pm." and she kissed him gently.

Rasasvada (rusaasvaad)

(n.) The taste of bliss in the absence of all thoughts.

I have a lust for words, foreign words. I like to speak and hear the crisp sounds of different languages. Just appreciating the beauty of the word, but not really knowing what it means. Sometimes I like to write them down, and appreciate the beauty of it in writing. I love looking at the combination of letters that make up each word, but not really knowing what it means.

Doesn't the same go when it comes to what we feel?

Sometimes we say it's love, but all we like is how they look from the outside without fully knowing who they really are.

I have a lust for words, just like how most of us has a lust for the people we say we love.

"What's your name again?"

"Jamie."

"Jamie. Right." He looked at me, his emerald eyes sparkling like they always do. He was standing at the edge of my bed, putting on his pants, then reached for his shirt that was hanging at the back of my study chair. I was lying on my bed, my entire body covered in sheets but nothing underneath. He buttoned his shirt, fixed his hair a bit, then kissed me on the forehead. He tried to make his way to my window without making any noise. "I'll call you.", he said, then jumped out my window. I put on my robe and peeked at my window, while I watched him run quietly out our lawn. I took a deep sigh and told him, "You didn't even get my number", as if he could still hear me.

What the fuck did I just do? Or maybe the better question is, who the fuck did I just do?

I did Jack Ramirez, or maybe he did me. And that's not the way things should work out. I'm not the person for him. Not when he's your typical golden boy, while I'm just a sucky freshman.

Jim and Bethany were sitting on the sidewalk at the front of the gym last friday night. His band was done playing and she was tired as hell. It's 11:47pm, they're sitting on a sidewalk while singing Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their lungs. No one can here them, not even Bethany. She was too occupied by the sound of her beating heart that goes a million times louder whenever she's with Jim.

"Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me..."

Then their voices suddenly faded, and there it was. The ever frightening silence that Bethany had been dreading all night. She'd honestly rather just drown herself in all the noise inside, than suffer this silence. This unsure, nerve wracking silence.

"Norah said yes", Jim told her.

Then she laughed, not even sure why. But she didn't mind, as long as she's not crying. Jim told her everything he and Norah did over the weekend. How they played bowling together, how he introduced Norah to his family. It was supposed to be sweet but it just sounded like 27 shades of bullshit to her. "What did you even like about Norah?" she asked.

"Because we're both into music." he said.

Then suddenly it became 28 shades of bullshit. Because sitting beside him is the girl who watched his band perform the crap music they play. Sitting beside him is the girl who just sang his anthem at the top of her lungs. Sitting beside him is the girl who's deeply in love with him.

"Fuck you!" Bethany screamed. She stood up and walked away, unsure of where she's going.