engr.albertmike

Good day! I hope this message finds you well.  I am writing to inform you that... I was unwell. Struggling and unable. Anxious, sad, but not depressed. Agoraphobic. Still wasn't healed. When you said you overcame yours in just two weeks You always call to gather us, for some guidance, catch-ups When you're just wasting our time with your memoirs This meeting could've been an email.  I tried. I tried, trust me. For me, it was nothing.  There are factors we can't control. Sucking it all up makes you gasp for air. I chased your time for some advice, for some comfort.  From 8 AM, I sat down with you at 1 PM.  Expecting a father or a leader. "As long as you have time for sleeping, as long as you have time for eating, as long as you have time for bathing, you haven't sacrificed things, you've not given it all." Those words killed me. Your face terrified me. Your voice makes me want silence. Your presence makes me seek solace. Your intelligence redefines the ...

Thirty-four, quiet, and might be kind, sends music to friends he struggles to find. Not top forty hits or radio air, but songs with strange rhythms, raw and rare. Synths like The Strike, lyrics too deep, notes that echo from wounds he keeps. He sends them out like messages in bottles, hoping for nods, replies full-throttle. Sounds like he wanna share. Might be joy he seldom feels. Or to start reconnection, that on himself, he cannot restore. But no one bites, no hearts ignite, they skim, they skip, they swipe past night. "It's not my genre," they quietly say, and the songs fall silent, fade away. Still, he scrolls endlessly, slowly, through the names of friends he used to know. Looking for one who might just hear the beauty behind what others fear. His playlist grows; his inbox stays still, but he sends the songs with stubborn will. A quiet chorus behind each play: “This is me; do you hear me anyway?”

In cosmic tropical fields, flowers spring petals stretch on astral wings. A cosmos born in an earthly bed, unfurl in warmth with stars widespread. In hues of dusk, it seems to gleam A universe within its dream. Is it a bloom, a stellar sight? Or galaxies in petals bright? Each blossom piece holds celestial grace A nebula in a tiny space. Is it a flower or transcendent lore? An astronomical flourish It's a dance, a galactic symphony, Embracing skies, yet rooted free. A puzzle, nature's playful game, terrestrial or space's claim? In twilight's glow, it takes its stance, A cosmic dance, a flowery trance. So ask again, and ponder deep, Is it a bloom, or stars that creep?

I remember a memory of an orange afternoon the glow wasn't yellow it was indeed an orange vision My brother lying on the table his warm forehead his voice hoarse he asked for bread Maybe it was an awakening maybe it’s just nothing but for me, I remember vividly that something is opening There is no heat nor warmth i'm overwhelmed but I am calm my mother napping on a bamboo couch I am in the kitchen, feeling surrounded I tied everything today to that colorful exhibition orange is so loud orange is so hard With all the weird things with all the unexplained I will always recall and return to that orange afternoon.

Palagi sa aming agahan, minsan ay hanggang hapunan. Masarap naman, lalo na kung may sahog, ang mahalaga'y busog. Ika’y masisiyahan nga ba miminsan, kung kape at tinapay ang siyang almusal? Mas maayos pa rin 'yon kaysa hangin at laway. Salat, ngunit pilit nagpapasalamat, naitatawid ang araw, malinamnam man o maalat bato man o may kaunting sabaw. Walang karapatang magreklamo, pagtitiis ay tinatago. Hindi uso ang maghanap, prebilehiyo ang pumili at masarap. Salamat, Ina, sa pagkain, kahit sakit sa tiyan ay pilit tinitiis. Wala rin namang magagawa ang pag-ayaw, kung kapalit ay gutom sa araw. Mahirap sabihin na masakit kung makikita mo sa kanya ang pait. Ngiti ka na lang at namnamin wag nang dumagdag sa alalahanin.

I remember that day. I was scared, but I showed up anyway. Heart pounding, voice shaking, but still, I stood there. Then you laughed. And for a moment, I thought, maybe I looked stupid. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried. Maybe you were right. But no. You laughed because you didn’t understand what it takes to be brave when everything inside you says run. You laughed not because I was weak, but because you couldn’t imagine being strong in the way I was. See, it’s easy to laugh when you’ve never had to fight your own doubts, or speak when your voice feels like it’s about to break. But it takes something deeper to face fear and still say, "I’m here." So laugh if you need to. Mock what you don’t understand. But know this: The one who laughs at someone’s courage  isn’t strong. They’re just loud. And maybe, just maybe— they need to learn what strength really looks like.

I was suffering from dilemmas I thought I’d never experience. I was wrong. I used to be the one who helped without asking, the martyr-type. Never thought I’d seek help, or worse, need it. Most people will wave you off, or shove disappointments and assumptions straight into your mouth. And when they’re done? They will not help you. But a few, a rare, blessed few, shared what they should’ve kept for themselves, for their families. They helped me. But what do you do, when the one who helped is now asking for it back, because they need it more this time? It’s an emotional turmoil. And I am there in that corner, asking forgiveness. I could not help you when you needed me. I offered prayers and good wishes that’s all I had. I was still in need myself. Time passed. I repaid what I asked from you. But I know, deep down, the money I returned doesn’t hold the same weight as when you gave it. Because now, you don’t need it anymore.