Runaway I

March 1, 2014 Saturday

I was standing on the edge of a cliff getting ready to jump. “This is it,” I told myself. “This is the end for me”. It was a beautiful day to die. I surveyed the view and the scenery was perfect. The sky was clear and the sun was just about to set on the horizon. The wind was blowing on my face and I could almost taste the salt in the air. I’m at peace. I’m ready.

I jumped over the cliff and plummeted on the cold water beneath me. “Fuck!” I wasn’t expecting it to be this cold, which kind of ruined my whole plan to die peacefully. I could feel my lungs fill up with water and I was having a difficult time to breath. I was drowning. But then again, that was the whole point of this right? Anyway, people who had near death experiences claimed that they saw their whole lives flash before their eyes just before they died yet here I am still waiting for that moment. I never really understood what they meant. Is it like a montage? A series of images that will flash starting from my birth until this very moment? You know, just like in the movies, highlighting my happiest moments in the last 25 years with some Instagram filter.

As I was drowning, a lot of things were running through my head. I forgot to email my boss. I forgot to call my mom and dad and my siblings. I forgot to write a note – a suicide note explaining why I had decided to end my life. Oh how I wish I could’ve thought this through more carefully instead of going with my impulse to just jump. Okay, maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I could still survive this. I opened my eyes and started swimming upward and then my phone started ringing, even underwater I could recognize the muffled sound of my ringtone. I pulled it out of my pocket but it slipped in my hands. It kept ringing and ringing and ringing. And then I woke up.

it was around 3 in the morning when I awoke from the sound of my phone. I wasn’t sure who could be calling me this late – or this early. I picked up my phone to answer.

“Hello?” I said a little impatiently.

“Get out of there now!” said the man from the other end of the line.

“Huh? Who’s this?” I asked, annoyed.

“You have to get out of there now!” the man repeated and then hung up.

I checked who the caller was but his number wasn’t registered on my contacts. I was confused but I was also damn too sleepy to fucking deal with a prank call right now. I could call him back though, whoever he was, but I don’t have enough credits on my balance to make a call. I crawled back to my bed, pulled the covers over my head and went back to sleep.

There was a knock on my door. I wasn’t sure whether I was still asleep or dreaming, or there was actually someone outside my room knocking this late. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sleeping since answering the call but it felt like it was just seconds ago and this. I was pretty annoyed at that point. You don’t mess with someone who hadn’t slept well in the past few days. I got up hastily and walked over to look through the peephole. No one was outside. Just when I was about to walk back to my bed there was another knock, this time it was louder. I went over to check again and still saw no one from the other side. I opened the door, took a peek outside and saw a man standing on the side. He was pointing a gun at my face and before I could react he had already pulled the trigger.

March 1, 2014 Saturday

I was on my way home from work. It was around 6 in the evening and I couldn’t wait to get home and sleep. I had a really long day at the office and I’d been wondering how long I could go on with this. I was having a hard time dealing with the people around me. I didn’t mind the job itself because it was pretty easy but I was having a hard time fitting in with everyone. I was crossing the street when my phone started ringing. I picked up and then boom, I got hit by a car. And then I woke up.

It was 3 in the morning when I woke up. I opened my eyes and looked out the window. It was still dark outside. I grabbed my phone from the foot of my bed. Four missed calls. Who could be calling me this late, I wondered. And then just when I was about to put it down again it started to ring. The number wasn’t registered.


“Get out of there now!” said the man from the other end of the line.

(To be continued…)

II: What Makes You Beautiful

liam payne one direction gay fanfiction m2m pinoy stories sex scandalI’m the awkward teen nobody notices. The one that blends in the background and disappear like a freakin’ chameleon. That and partly because of the fact that I’m wearing the same color as the wall I’m leaning into. “Damn it!” Yes, I’m that guy. The one at the corner watching everyone else get drunk from drinking punch from a bowl that some punk had spiked. And I’m that loser who’s been sipping at my red cup even if it’s almost empty. “I’m drunk,” I said to myself but I then I realized I was just drinking juice which I had gotten before they spiked it.

And there they are, the popular kids in school, the ones everyone wants and wants to be. They’re gorgeous of course and perfect and awesome and <insert every positive adjective in the dictionary here>.

They walk into the room and everything slows down, very John Woo might I add, or you know, like in every high school chick flick movie that ever existed where there’s always a scene where “the new girl” steps out of the car and suddenly everything’s in fucking slow motion or “the-normal-girl-nobody-notices-who-just-got-a-makeover-and-suddenly-becomes-super-hot-and-pretty” walks down the steps of their house in a prom dress while some cheesy song plays in the background and again she’s in slow fucking motion. That’s what’s it like every time I see them or maybe they just walk really slow?

Just like Moses and the red sea, everyone parts to let them through. I roll my eyes in annoyance. “I don’t get it.” I said to the empty space beside me where my friend, I mean, imaginary friend is standing. “Don’t get me wrong.” I said. I don’t think talking to myself is doing me any favors at all right now but screw it. Everyone here already thinks I’m crazy or weird or both so why not prove them right. Give them something to talk about the next day when they’re in their lockers or restroom. Oh, who am I kidding. I don’t think they’d talk about me at all. I’m pretty sure after tonight, half of the people here are going to lose their virginity and the other half are dead drunk to fuck and be fucked.

I’m already tipsy and I feel like I’m about to puke any second now. Either I’m already drunk or that fucking disco lights is making me dizzy. If someone’s looking my way right now and seeing what I’m doing or listening to what I’ve been saying the past few minutes, he or she will be or probably is already scared of me. “I’m not crazy!” I’ll probably scream to that person defensively. Then again, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy so maybe everyone is. We are. after all, living in our own world filling the void in our lives with dreams and fantasies.

Hard as I try I can’t take my eyes off them. Damn these boys! Curse them and their beautiful eyes, perfectly coiffed hair, soft pink lips, and the bulge in their skinny jeans. I’m transfixed. I’m a boy possessed and I need someone to slap me in the face real hard right now or just wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth. I’m under their spell for sure… like everyone else.

My cup is now empty, I didn’t even I’ve been drinking that much. I walked over to the punch bowl but it was bit difficult when you have a hard on and you decided to go commando. “Walk it off,” I told myself. So I paced back and forth for a while until this growing feeling beneath my pants finally subsides. It’s a good thing I’m covered in darkness so at least no one could see me and my fucking boner.

They walk up to the stage and smile to everyone and to no one in particular. And I hate it. I hate it because I feel mushy afterwards and feeling mushy is an unwelcome feeling that drives me to my knees. Yes, I’m that weak I can hardly speak. (Feel free to sing). I hate the way they make my heart beat faster and slower at the same time. As if I’m in every romantic comedy I’ve seen with Katherine Heigl on the lead. It sucks.

Those pearly white teeth shines like a star in a cloudless sky, they must be using Colgate (wink) I smell an endorsement coming… Kidding. Anyway, they do this thing where they look at you as if you were the only person in the room. The camera slowly pans and one by one people start fading away until there’s only the two of you left. The lights go out save for the ones focused on the two of you and then out of nowhere smoke rises from the ground. The only sound you can hear are each other’s heartbeat and yours is beating faster and faster and faster. He’s moving closer to you and at this point you’re starting to freak out inside. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! What am I gonna do?” He extends his hand and you take it. You were hesitant at first but it feels so right so you do it. “Stop shaking,” you say to yourself but you can’t. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for all your life. This is it. And if you play your cards right, you might just lose your virginity. And so you put your arms around his waist, lower your hands a little and finally squeeze his ass. And then the music starts to play. You look directly into his eyes and you could already see your whole future with him. You’re just hoping that when he looks close into yours he wouldn’t see that you’re slowly undressing him. “Fuck!” I said. I have a boner. Again.

“Oh god they’re so annoying,” I whispered to my imaginary friend.

“Who is?”

“Oh shit!” I jumped out of my skin; choked on the cake I was eating and spilled my drink all over my shirt. “How long have you been standing there?” I asked the silhouette standing a few feet beside me.

“Long enough,” he said in his sexy British accent.

“Oh, okay,” I replied. Frozen.

You can’t imagine how happy I am that it was dark. I can’t see him so he can’t possibly recognize me too right? Right?

Why would anyone recognize me? I’m a nobody. – the narrator quips

If he’s been standing there “long enough” then he must’ve hard what I was saying to my imaginary friend standing beside me. Embarrass, I started looking for exits but I know he’s staring at me with those judgmental eyes.

“I’m not crazy!” I said defensively. I started walking towards the nearest exit when Harry, on the mic, asked, “Liam, where are you?” And just like that my head started spinning.

“Oh shit!”

The spotlight turns to the crowd looking for Liam. And my biggest fear is realized. The spotlight stopped to where I was standing moments ago and there he was, Liam, charming as ever. Smiling to the crowd, soaking all the love. He looked at one direction (pun intended) mine and caught my eyes. He was looking at me as if we were the only ones in the room and just before the camera pans and everyone starts fading away I looked away. I walked towards the exit and just before the door closes opening chords for the song “What Makes You Beautiful” began to play.

Dream Big

When I was young I learned to dream big. I was told that I could be anything I wanted to be – a doctor who could cure the sick, a lawyer in pursuit of justice or even a priest who could save souls. I was young, impressionable, and I wanted to be all of the above (except becoming a priest – for obvious reasons). But as I grew older, I learned a few things about myself and discovered that I’m really not cut out to be any of the three.


I can’t be a doctor. I’m not smart enough to be one. Science stuff bored me when I was a student so doing it on a daily basis for the rest of my life? – I don’t think so. I guess it’s safe to say there was no chemistry there. Ha! (See what I did there?) But one thing is for sure, I know a lot about biology, more specifically, the male anatomy. HAHA! Well, at least I know the parts that matter – the head, the heart, and you know… the other head.

Well, I’m not going to be a neurosurgeon by a long shot, dealing with the nervous system is enough to make me… well, nervous (okay, I’m sure you saw that one coming but I couldn’t help it – insert smiley face here). But the brain is complicated. And if I’m going to handle someone’s head, let’s just say it’s just not my hands that’ll be doing all the work. I can be a cardiologist, but I’ve broken so many hearts in my 25 years of existence that it’s better for me to just stay away from it altogether. I’m not really sure if even have one to be honest but knowing that I can still feel my pulse is enough to know it’s there. Maybe I could be a dentist. I do have an oral fixation. And much like Freud’s theory about psychosexual development, my pleasure centers in my mouth. And speaking of mouth, I do love giving blowjobs. Well, given the amount of practice I’ve had over the years I’m pretty confident when I say I give good head. I mean, practice makes perfect right?

So becoming a doctor is out of the question and as much as I love watching Grey’s Anatomy, I’m not cut out to be one.


Elle Woods may or may not have influenced me on wanting to pursue law. But getting into Harvard may not be so easy, I mean, Harvard really? Maybe UP or Ateneo will do for now (as if). Well, I don’t know if a Copolla can direct my admissions video and I don’t think we’re really required to in here but like Elle I feel comfortable using legal jargon in everyday life.

If not Elle, maybe watching all seasons of Suits in a span of few days could be the culprit. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be Harvey Specter or at least fuck someone like him right? But being Donna is way more fun don’t you think?

Becoming a lawyer was more me – fits my personality. I mean, I was and still am a cold-hearted asshole, a compulsive liar and I don’t have a conscience so I guess it’s a profession that suits me (wink, wink). Even now I’m still thinking about going to law school but I know in my heart it’s not something I really want to do for the rest of my life. My parents have been asking me for some time now if it’s something I want to do but I have mixed-feelings about studying again. I don’t look good under fluorescent light.


Ever since I was a kid my mom kept pushing me to become a priest. I really don’t know why. For me it’s a bit strange for a parent to want his son to be a priest. I actually considered it for a time – maybe for about a minute or two but seriously, me? No fucking way. I believe in God, but in religion not so much.

So, what now? I’m already 25 yet I still couldn’t decide what I really want to do with it. I know I want to write for a living but I still need to earn money to live. You’d be surprised that there aren’t a lot of companies out there looking for someone whose writing portfolio consists of erotic gay sex stories. I need a job that’ll pay the bills and support my drinking habit. And like what I said to a friend of mine a long time ago, I could’ve been an addict it’s just too bad I couldn’t afford the drugs.

Both my parents are already in their sixties. And I can’t always rely on my sisters to support me financially. So I guess it’s about time for me to stop dicking around and start looking for a job, set aside my principles in life and just do what everybody does.

When I was young I learned to dream big and now that I’m older and wiser (the latter remains in question) I learned to set some dreams aside. We’re a generation raised by reality TV where we see people become millionaires overnight and becomes famous for 15 minutes, but the truth is, not everyone gets to live their dream, some people do give up along the way in exchange for a bigger paycheck.

Anyway, tomorrow’s another day. And maybe tomorrow I can finally decide.

And to quote Palahniuk, “This is your life and its ending one moment at a time.”

TIme to wake up.


The Boy is Back

1, 2, 3… Jump.

Everyday is the same. I wake up late, sleep late. And the time in between is just a blur. I watch the hour go by as I lie in bed awake. My eyes open. I stare at the ceiling. I breathe. I’m alive but I might as well be dead. If I die tonight no one would know. Days would pass before anyone even finds my body. The smell of rotting flesh would probably alarm my neighbors or anyone who passes by my unit.

I’m alive, yes. But I might as well be dead. I’m just one person. One of a billion people alive on earth and if I die tonight would my absence make a difference to anyone? My family and friends perhaps but I’m sure they’ll move on. In a year or so they’ll forget about the son they had, the brother they had, the friend they had. I will be missed no doubt but everyone will move on, go on with their lives and forget. They’ll mourn. They’ll cry. And eventually they’ll move on. They’ll go back to their old lives. Work. Play. Work. Play. So what’s the point in all these? Why prolong the pain when you can end it just as easily as putting a bullet through your head. Well, I don’t have a gun in the first place but you get what I mean.

There’s no other way to understand what it all means. We live. We die. What we do in between matters because of what? Our belief in heaven or our fear of hell? We live. We die. That’s the cycle of life. People come. People go. We remember. We forget. Sooner or later we’ll all die. We’ll be remembered. We’ll be forgotten. The people we meet and become part of our lives we’ll soon forget. People come. People go. Friends become lovers, lovers become strangers.

Every night I hope for a better tomorrow but tomorrow is just the same.