LITERARY PAGE
"Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean
choking on the bone."
REALITY AND JEALOUSY
– 3ST
UNTITLED.
– Lila Sky
trigger warning: suicide attempt.
the original plan was to pull the trigger,
hands swiftly lifting the gun aiming for my head,
to end these sleepless nights,
to cease this undying pain,
but if i do it,
it won't do any good,
i would still hear you,
i would still feel you,
i would still remember,
so i thought of something new,
a scheme that would benefit me alone,
i will pull the trigger,
but i'll make sure it's aiming at you.
I have this peculiar belief that words are alive, especially when they are written. They’re like sirens. They enchant and enamor you with their beautiful metaphors and make you feel as though you are feeling what those words are telling you. Before you know it, they’ve pulled you deep down into an other-worldly realm of endless possibilities. You become their puppet tied on a string in the best way possible. They open doors for you that you didn’t even know it could open. Words and literature give you these choices and options on how you want to live your life; it gives you a taste of it. Even so, it is still up to you how you cook, serve, and enjoy the meal of life.
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To be given that meal is truly rare. It’s quite fascinating to think that in this vast universe, our planet is the only one habitable enough to sustain life. We are lucky enough to be walking on this earth and experiencing what the universe formed for you, for them, for each and every one of us. Think of it as a grand banquet, with endless dishes to choose from. You could eat this or that; be like this or be like that. The life you want to live is completely up to you, along with the purpose you wish to fulfill. Our job is to eat our fill and enjoy the meal given to you. To savor every bit and flavor that it offers you. It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to experience anything and everything. Even wonderful is an understatement. Living for yourself envelops you in pleasure and delight and, you get so high from it that you literally reach cloud nine. The euphoria that you get from it is indescribable. You’re floating with no sense of caution or time and that’s where it gets dangerous.
“What does summer remind you of?”
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Another solemn voice caressed in my ear as he laid beside my figure under the vast expanse of the dark sky; witnessed by none other than the celestial bodies which started to gather around our vulnerable frames that lay comfortably — our eyes fixated back at them with curiosity.
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The night sky was luminous. The horizon was dyed with the hues of ocean blue, mixed with the ambiguity of the pitch-black horizons as though it was a witness to the growing emotions of those who stood beneath it. The gentle moonlight was abruptly joined by the mellifluous melody of a song in the background as my gaze automatically landed on his perfectly-chiseled visage, state suitable to answer the question he had just asked.
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“Uh...” I couldn’t quite grasp the words and let them fall from my mouth yet at the back of my head, I knew what summer reminds me of.
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Summer reminds me of fireflies and rain three years ago. It jogs my memory about clandestine moments of sweat-slicked skin and breathlessness while being enthralled in a passionate dalliance lost in a sweet time that remains embedded within the height of my subconscious. Summer reminds me of the glimmering remnants of him effortlessly; even until now.
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“Summer reminds me of this one saying.” I lied.
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“Oh! Which one?” He asked, almost in a beaming manner as his doe eyes started to crinkle like how they always do whenever he feels ecstatic about a certain thing.
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“Sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t mean choking on the bone.”
Sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t mean choking on the bone. It’s true that living without care is euphoric but, we should not be lost in the pleasure. Yes, the meal of life is the best thing to ever be tasted by our tongues but we should never let ourselves indulge too much to the point that we lose our sense of time and caution. Living sturdily and Spartan-like doesn’t mean getting yourself killed in the battle. Time cannot be stopped. Therefore, no decision can be undone nor an action can be unmade. Time is a stream whose current is steady and unwavering. We are all going along in that current towards our end — our doom. We only get one shot at everything and it’s up to us how to deal with the consequences, whether they’ll benefit us or not. We must be vigilant in the choices and actions we make so as to not “choke on the bone.”
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As Stephen Hawking once said, “There should be no boundaries to human endeavor.” We are creatures driven by passion so strong that we will do anything to achieve what we want. We have gone great lengths so that we may be able to be in this very position of life. Some have found satisfaction and have come to the bitter conclusion of resignation; they have had their fill of the meal. Some are only starting to join the table — their burning passion and free spirit choosing their meal. Most are eating their meal, slowly finding purpose and meaning to this banquet. For me, I have a long way to go. I have a duty to give only the truest account of my adventures; to publish the life I had lived. And I wish to live not in the bounds they have set for me. I will live deliberately and happily as I find love, joy, and meaning into the rareness I was born into. I have much to discover and whether they may be bitter or sweet, I will write them all in courage. I will seize every day as if it were my last — only then I can truly live.
And there I saw his confusion by how his brows began to furrow; followed by his bottom lip jutting out into a doll-like pout before questioning once again, “Meaning?”​
“Enjoy life to the fullest, but do not go beyond what is proper for overindulging leads to pain.” With that being said, the other clearly understood what I tried implying.
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“I’m guessing that something agonizing happened with that summer of yours.”
​
Oh, you have no idea how painful that summer was. It did not only cause you to forget every single thing and person around you—but it felt like losing you, too. The memories we built which you can no longer remember have always repeated themselves like a tragic record in my mind and I would mourn every single time.
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“Well, you could say that.” For the nth time that night, I lied about my feelings again.
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It would be better this way, right?
Constantly living in a nosy world
Cruelty and brutality comes within—
Seeking justice whilst eyes are cold;
For love and peace, hatred is in between
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Mutters and whispers across the room,
Your iridescence doesn't seem to glimmer
Ink of the soul getting cloned
Good deeds were made by a sinner
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Hush, kid, life is for you
Don't mind how the envious eyes observe
Tears should be gold, not screeching blue
The vast of the sea is what you deserve
​
Ignore the ferocious stares as a ridged knife
Appreciate art quiet and alone
Sucking the marrow out of life,
Does not mean choking on the bone.
OF SUMMER, NIGHT SKY, AND IN-BETWEENS
– Kyril
UNTITLED.
– Diwata
PREMYO
– Balisong
CONTENTMENT
– Théia
Photograph taken by: L.
Paparating na pag-asa ang karaniwang simbolismo ng pagsikat ng araw ngunit paparating na sakit ng ulo naman ang naiisip ng bangag na si Macky habang nakatulala sa mga gusali mula sa bintana ng kanilang opisina.
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Sino ba namang hindi mapapatanga sa kawalan kung alam niyang mukhang hindi na naman mapapasama ang kaniyang isinulat na editoryal dahil sinuway niya ulit ang utos ng kanilang EIC na lumaki raw sa Amerika. Madalas siyang pagalitan ukol sa mga pinapanigan niyang argumento sa kadahilanang maaaring masyadong delikado raw upang ilathala at ang iba naman pinababayaran, lalo na sa usaping politiko. Hindi naman ito makasagot sa pangambang masesante siya ng wala sa oras at bilang pagbibigay na rin ng respeto sa nakatataas sa kaniya.
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Halos wala pang limang minuto ay biglang tumunog ang telepono sa kaniyang silid na nagpatigil sa kanyang pagmumuni-muni. Nang mabasa niya ang pangalan ng kaniyang EIC sa telepono ay napagtanto niyang mangyayari na naman ang pangyayaring pilit niyang iniiwasan sa ngayon.
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"Mr. Peralta, please come to the EIC's room. We need to talk in regards with your article." Malamig at seryosong pagkakasabi ng EIC bago ito ibaba kahit na hindi pa nakakasagot si Macky.
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Hindi na nag-aksaya pa si Macky ng ilang segundo at dali-daling pumunta sa silid ng EIC habang nag-iisip ng mga epektibong rason na sa tingin niya ay makakalusot doon.
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Sa pagbukas pa lamang niya ng pinto sa silid ng kaniyang EIC ay dama na niya ang simoy ng hangin na dulot ng malaking bentilador sa kaniyang opisina. Dama na rin niya ang matatalim na titig sa kaniya ng EIC na naging dahilan ng kaniyang pag ismid at pagkakaroon ng ilang butil ng malalamig na pawis.
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Tumikhim ang EIC at nagsimulang magsalita.
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"So Mr. Peralta, I won't beat around the bush. I've relentlessly reminded you that you should be careful when it comes to your articles! I know that an editorial article should be done based on a journalist's own opinion but I think that's too much. How can we publish all these works when we can't even follow the government's instructions? It's just a piece of cake! You should always be on the government's side! I know that you'll always be too hard to talk to because you're financially unstable and every poor has a weak understandi–"
"Sir, please let me try to defend myself. I know that I have my own mistakes but you cannot put all the blame on me. When it comes to my articles, I am aware of the infamous rule in our news publication to make the government look good, but I just can't imagine myself, writing lies for the sake of money. News should consist of facts for a reason that it helps the reader to be more aware of their society. No one needs to read lies. I am aware that we are funded by the government but it doesn't mean that we have to take the responsibility of making them look like they're clean enough for our country. It seems like they're just making us drink poison in exchange for money. A real news publication should have the credibility to state the truth, whether it's good information or not." Mahabang paliwanag ni Macky.
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Napatigil saglit ang EIC upang mag-isip ng idadahilan.
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"But all of our co-journalists are doing the same thing! Why can't you follo–"
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"Sucking the marrow out of life does not mean choking on the bone. Yes, I work in a corrupted publisher, but it doesn't mean that I will be corrupted too. I know that we're being immune to something dirty, but it doesn't mean that I will let myself do the same thing too." Putol ni Macky sa tinuran nito.
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"Macky, if you keep on doing that, I'm afraid we might remove you from this publisher." pagbabanta nito sa kaniyang empleyado.
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Tila hindi na nakapagpigil si Macky dahil imbes na matakot ito sa pagbabanta ay pinili pa rin niyang magsalita.
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"Then go, fire me. But let me say another thing, poverty doesn't measure the knowledge of a person. I hope you'll learn to accept the things that I said to you simply because it's true." Panghahamon ni Macky.
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"Then you're fired. You may now leave this office and never come back." Seryosong pagkakasabi naman ng galit na EIC.
​
Tila bagsak ang kaniyang mga balikat habang pauwi nang mapagtantong kakailanganin na niyang humanap ng ibang trabaho. Ngunit sa kabilang banda, hindi naman niya pinagsisihan ang mga nasabi niya sa EIC.
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Sa pagkakataong ito, napag-isip-isip niya rin na ang EIC niya ay tila isa ring tuta na sunod ng sunod sa kaniyang amo para sa buto.
​
Maraming tao ang nababago ng pera.
​
Pero mas pinanatili niya ang kaniyang malinis na prinsipyo kaysa sa pagkakaroon ng maruming premyo.
Things don't always come off the way we want it to be. Sometimes, we do the most unexpected things — but it either comes with two points; 1) It hurts other people with our reckless decisions and, 2) It hurts us. It was always one way or another but with pricey decisions.
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But sometimes, it's a good decision regardless if it hurts them or us. But should we regret it? If we do, do you suggest you should've chosen the other path instead? We should at least thank for having opportunities like these because they rarely happen. You are here for a reason, for a purpose. And if you feel like the world is against you, always remember that sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on a bone and you'll always find contentment and satisfaction.
He felt bad all over. Every muscle of his hurt and he's not even moving, he's just on his back, staring at the ceiling wondering what went wrong. Bruises, cuts, dirt, and blood decorated his face but he couldn't even move a muscle to get himself out of wherever he is and get healed. The smell of blood and fire permeated his nose, it was the smell of war and death. Where did things go wrong? He slowly closed his eyes, even movement as little as that hurt, and tried to analyze when shite hit the fan.
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He was on the battlefield, along with his comrades fighting a couple dozen of those who thought they were superior to any other person there. Sick people who thought their blood was pure and those of other heritage had dirty blood. So he fought ruthlessly, the spells he used didn't aim to just stun but maim, kill, he wanted to rid the world of these people. He thought they were winning, thought that they had the fight in the bag. Light always won against the dark right? So why was he lying here, bruised, battered, and bleeding? Another question entered his tired mind, if they lost then why was he still alive? He didn't want to live in a world where those people ruled, he'd probably be tortured to point where begging for death would be the only option.
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Suddenly, footsteps can be heard around him. He didn't bother opening his eyes, he was done for anyway. Death was just around the corner. He heard them muttering, asking one another if he was dead or not. That was when he noticed he was holding his breath, with his eyes closed and his body not moving to breathe, to them he was good as dead. He then heard a cold voice, a voice he was unfortunately familiar with. The voice ordered the people around to kill him, even if they thought he was dead, the voice didn't want to take any chances. A chorus of spells was the last thing he heard.
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Cold. His cheek felt cold. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he opened his eyes, turns out he was lying sideways on the floor. He slowly stood up, surprised that it wasn't as painful as he expected. In fact, there was no pain. His confusion deepened as he looked down himself, he was still wearing the uniform he wore on the battlefield but without the dirt and blood. He touched his face, and again, gone was the dirt and blood. He was even free of the bruises and cuts. Then he noticed his surroundings, they were very bright. Everything was white. A sigh of relief came out of him, he was dead. At least he didn't get to live in a draconian world.
"So you're awake." A deep voice boomed from behind him, he whipped around, holding his arms out in front of him out of habit. He didn't have his wand so he settled to take whoever it was physically. "Calm down my boy." The voice said again, but there was nobody there. He looked around, his arms still held up in defense.
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"You are alone since you aren't supposed to be dead yet. But I can talk to you, for I need to give you advice." He finally realized who the voice was from, his late mentor. The mentor who taught him anything he needed to know about fighting. But wait, he isn't supposed to be dead?
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"What do you mean master?" He asked as he still looked around, finally dropping his hands.
The voice of his mentor tutted, "My boy, you were always known for your short patience. Now look at what it cost, the world is given away to a mad man." He could hear the disappointment in his mentor's voice and dropped his head. He felt like crying but it's no use crying over spilled milk.
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"I-I didn't know what to do master, their forces were getting stronger by the second. More and more people killed and fewer people fighting for what's right." He gripped his hair as he remembered the slaughter that was happening around him before he leads the light force—or what was left of it—to the battle.
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"Hmm, that is true. I'm guessing your superhero complex kicked in before you thought of a plan-" He couldn't help but cut his master off, the anger and disappointment of losing the war and letting a genocidal maniac rule finally kicking in.
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"I've always defeated him! Starting from the first year, I always found a way to stop him. Some say it was pure luck and maybe it was, all I know is I have to stop the man from destroying the world we love. I always won against him so I thought why would I lose now? Now when people need it the most? So I charged in the battle, my 'No Plan Just Wing It' plan never failed me-" and he broke down, dropping to his knees as he sobbed for the friends and light believers who died in vain. Friends and comrades he led quite blindly in battle.
He could hear his mentor sigh, "Such a Gryffindor you are my boy. But sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone. There is a time for daring and a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for." He nodded at that, wiping his face furiously. His mentor just called him out for being impatient and acting so rashly. He deserved it, he acted so boldly but stupidly. Then he heard footsteps. Rushing to make himself stand, he didn't want anyone to see him like this. But didn't his mentor say he was alone?
A group of people appeared by his side, a group he was very familiar with. Heck, he fought the war beside them. He rushed to the group and hugged them, profusely saying sorry for leading them into a battle without a plan whatsoever.
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"Now this is where things get interesting for you lot. As I said, it isn't your time yet and so are theirs. You all have to live your lives without the threat of that mad man." The furrow in his brows returned. What was his master saying?
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"In this rare occasion, you will be granted permission to go back in time to fix what you did wrong. With the fate of the wizarding world resting in your hands, you are needed back there." The mentor paused, letting them digest what he was saying. Needless to say, all of them were shocked by this.
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"This time, do think of a plan before rushing to battle? I know you all have great heads on your shoulders. Use that intelligence of yours to think of a strategy to defeat those forces of the dark." He faced his friends with determination on his face. Here is a second chance and he knows how rare these come by. This chance won't be wasted and he will make sure of it.
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They were told that they will be transported shortly to the time he and his friends were in the forest. That was the time they were hiding and trying to come up with something to end the dark lord. While it's clear that they ended up with no plan and just charged head-on without thinking, now they would think straight. You can't always rely on luck, this he now knew. As each one of his friends got transported by a beam of light, he smiled to himself. It was nice that he got to talk with his former mentor, and what was it his mentor said? Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone. Hmm, he'll use that quote someday. Hopefully when he's giving out advice to his future kids. Yes, a future he'll work hard to attain. A future to look forward to.
Photograph taken by: L.
UNTITLED.
– Theseus
Seated in a large room, nothing but couch and chairs were in it, Quill was comfortably looking out the window of that waiting room. He could hear other voices as they chatted away, however, he had drowned out those voices, it was only him and his thoughts.
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He closed his eyes as he remembered something that happened not too long ago.
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"Quill, don't tell me you haven't tried it before?" He heard a young voice. He opened his eyes, a wide grin of a girl, similar to his age. "What are you on about now, Max?" His eyebrow perking up as he looked at the girl holding a grayish egg.
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The girl grabs his wrist and places the egg on his hand. "Eat it." A horrified look made its way to Quill's face. "Max! I am not eating a duck egg!" He whines as he hands it back to the girl. The girl rolls her eyes. "It's not like you're gonna die. It's not poisonous. Also, you can just call it balut." She hands it back to him.
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"Look, I get it, you like this, but I don't. So please, don't make me eat it." He opens her palm and places the egg on her hand then pushes it lightly towards her. Max sighs, "Fine. I won't force you anymore. I'll just keep it in case you still want to try it." Quill chuckles at the girl. They leave the food stall and start walking around town.
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"You've tried so many fascinating things and yet, we're barely of legal age." Quill remarks at the girl who had just finished eating one of the duck eggs. "Life is short! Seize the day! I don't know when I'll die, so why not try my best to live my days like it's my last." Max says confidently as she threw any trash she had with her.
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"You know... Sucking all the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone." Quill says, making the girl stop in her tracks. "I don't get it." She stares at him quizzically. Quill grins at the girl as he continues walking, the girl following suit. Once he heard her footsteps, he chuckled. "It just means to not live your life too quick Max, I know you're scared about what might happen to you, but I can assure you," He stops walking, he faces the younger and smiles. "You will always have a tomorrow again, okay?" Max simply nods.
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Soon, the two headed home.
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Quill was snapped back to reality as he felt someone tap his shoulder. "She wants to speak to you, Quill." It was his mother. He stood up from where he was seated and followed her.
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He was ushered to a cream-colored door, his mother twisted the knob, opening it for him, he entered first, the white paint job in the room made him sick as he has already been here too many times for his liking. The beeping of the machines could make him deaf from hearing it over and over again as he came here. He walked to the hospital bed, where a girl lay. It was Max, the girl whom he loved for years now.
"Why?" he whispers softly against my ear as his fingertips gingerly trace my skin. The way it pressed against me played the rhythm of classical Chopin - as if one wrong move will ruin the show.
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I painted a subtle smile. Although the question has been carved within my existence, it still fastens my heart's pace. "Do you remember the first time we met?" instead of answering another why, I gave back another query.
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He chortles and kissed my forehead, laced our fingers as our naked figures brush with one another - the sheets were wrinkled and the ambiance inside the four-walled room reeks of the newly bought Champagne tinted with a vanilla scent. "World's greatest pianist," and the clock stopped ticking as if I was in a science fiction movie. I hit rewind.
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The chatters and the clicking of their footwears lingered inside my mind while I wavered - palms sweating, throat all dried up as I kept inhaling. I brushed my palms against my jeans, noticing how much my legs were quivering. convincing myself that everything I felt in the moment was normal, constantly thinking of it like a mantra.
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"What's with the frown, world's greatest pianist?" eyes quickly opened as if it has its own life. I felt like a weight was taken off from shoulder as I lifted my head and gaze at the person in front of me. "I thought you wouldn't come..." I couldn't help anymore but break into tears. My throat was already sore from burying the sobs that have been screaming to go.
"How could I forget this day?" and there goes his grin, like a cheshire cat. By his looks, I could tell he was in a rush, like the way he does when he's on duty in the emergency room. I buried my face to his chest, the gentle pats on my back was enough for me to regain myself.
When everyone else told me to do things, he was the only one who told me to live like a dog with two tails. He believed that I could fly and soar sky-high even though I had broken wings. He taught me that life is too boring doing things that wouldn't make you trepidatious. And that with every time I fall, I got closer to the accolade.
"And remember, sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone," he booped my nose and kissed my forehead. For a 13-year-old, those words were extremely too much to take in. I understood it vaguely as I embedded it within me.
Taking a deep breath before I swiftly hit the last note, I closed my eyes and let the momentum take me away. The seats were all occupied, cheers and hands clapping filled the air. The people who told me to fly with golden wings were applauding me for flying with broken wings. And that's when I finally understood. But his plane flew right away before I could even get a grasp of it.
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"It's Papa's mantra," I answered him, staring at the words that once have been embedded within me but now is etched into my skin.
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"Quill..." Max said weakly as she tried reaching out for him. "Don't. I'm here... You wanted to see me?" Quill said, forcing a smile on his lips.
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"I'm sorry. I broke a promise." Max murmured, her voice already sounding hoarse and herself barely being able to sit up or move properly at all. "Don't apologize, lass... It's not your fault. I'm sorry, for always trying to stop you from what you wanted to do. You wanted to do so much more." Quill held Max's hand with both of his as he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the tears back.
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Max smiles as weakly as her eyelids began to slowly close. "Quill... I'm tired..." She says. Quill raises the hand he was holding, as he kisses the back of it, a tear already escaping. "Sleep well, lass. You still have a journey ahead... in your next life." He whispers to the girl.
"I'd like that..." Were Max's final words before her eyes closed and her body went limp. The monitor's long beep only made Quill cry more. He wasn't letting go of Max's hand, he held it tightly as he looked at the lifeless body.
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He felt so guilty for promising to the girl that she would still have another bright day ahead of her, instead of joining in the adventure she invited him to now. For him, it wasn't that she went through life too fast, life went through her too quickly.
UNTITLED.
Photograph taken by: L.