Flow with Fatima

Some familiar feelings leave you addicted to them. Sometimes, all you need is a conversation, a phrase, and it transports you back to wanting to curl yourself back in bed. I physically hurt myself when the pain of spoken words becomes unbearable to carry. I came from parents who left me to figure out my potential, leaving me alone to grow roots so deep that I could fend for myself. I didn’t win the lottery of the womb; worse, I was dealt bad cards, which left me without a choice to play. Today, I feel like physically hurting myself. A punch in the face, bumping my head on the wall, or pinching myself so hard that you'd see the shadow of my nails that will wear off too. I feel like an elephant's feet have stomped on my heart again, which makes me want to grab a knife and just free myself from this pain. In my tiny bubble where I found solace in the presence of nobody, technology has been both a friend and a foe. And today, she was the latter. My nemesis did it again. In her inno

  I can still recall how these four words were said to me and how I stood there, frozen with time. I thought I knew the value of loyalty, but you will never be able to define it best until you learn to define it through its opposite: betrayal. And the best way to define it was through experience. To this day, out of the many things I was able to let go of, I kept a book from my childhood days. It was the fairytale book The Beauty and the Beast. It is with so much emotion that I would always play the voice of the beast, saying: “You ungrateful man! Whose bed did you sleep in? Whose food have you eaten? And whose clothes are you wearing? Mine, mine, mine! And you repay my kindness by stealing my roses? You shall die.” There weren’t any gruesome, blood-all-over-the-place death that transpired that day, except for something inside me that snapped and bid goodbye. When Psyche spilled hot oil from the lamp that woke her lover Cupid, he flew with his broken wing after saying the words, Love c

I can’t believe that time went by so fast that I am now celebrating my first month anniversary living by the beach. I really wouldn’t notice until I saw it in my expense tracker that I needed to pay rent. Time is indeed fast when you are having fun. And boy, I’m having loads of it. The past 30 days were a transition phase. Google was a great tool in helping me find the best position to place the bed, the Buddha that was gifted to me by a dear friend, my L-shaped table that I had to reassemble without a manual, where to place this and that, and all the things that I was able to fit inside an H100 vehicle. I left most of my plants in Antipolo, which breaks my heart even today. I know deep in my heart that everything I lost will return to me tenfold. During the first days, I had to get myself acclimated to the Zambales weather. I came from the foot of a mountain, so the weather back there was cool, but here, it’s different. I now take two showers a day—three, if you will include the ice w

I woke up today with the rays of the sun touching parts of the wooden floor of the second story of my apartment. I peeped at the window and saw the sun right in front of it. I immediately remembered that this view was the reason I fell in love with this place in the first place. I manifested an east-facing apartment with wooden floors and a space for my plants. This apartment gave birth to a lot of shadowplay. I love this apartment. One week from today, I am finally leaving this apartment after two years of staying in it. I knew I needed to move months ago, but I arrogantly stayed until the universe took matters into its own hands and left me with no choice but to leave. I know I want to be elsewhere. I know I’m done with this city, so I traveled a month ago in search of the perfect apartment. To be honest, I haven’t found the ‘perfect’ apartment yet. I found one, and its proximity to the life I decided to choose for myself is there. The distance from the place to the salt water is les

I was 12 years old. We just transferred from our grandmother’s house in Marikina to take care of my mother’s aunt’s house in Cainta. It was a new school, and I was shocked by the number of students in this school. There were 12 sections for just one grade level—that's like the whole high school population of my previous school. There were two other Fatimas in the first year, and I decided not to be one of them. I decided, right then and there, that I’m not Fatima anymore. I’m Elli. I initially pronounced it as Ee-lay, you know, like a lie. In the course of time, it has continuously evolved into different pronunciations and spelling variations. I managed to try to fit in because I was so afraid to stand out, allowing myself to be called names and shift into identities convenient to people I met along the way. Now, if that isn’t a great way to showcase my people-pleasing tendency, I don’t know what else will. I kept Fatima in a closet. I shrieked when people tried to call me by that