Shoreline
the sea listens.
Recommended: Play the lo-fi track below while you read my works!
Shore (2017), Lyka Marie Nuyles
Writing for this blog, Shoreline, was a journey pack with revisions and all-nighters. Making the blog layout itself was so much work to do, but despite all that, I managed to come up with an output that I am actually proud of. To me, both writing and laying out the design are forms of art and art is not formed that easily. It takes time, hard work, passion, and patience to be able to make something that will give satisfaction to the reader/audience and a sense of pride to the one who makes art. While working on this performance task, I understood in a deeper sense that there will be times that I’ll find it difficult to create something, but it’s definitely worth it in the end.
There were times that I doubted myself in terms of writing. There were times, too, that I can’t stop myself from comparing my work to others. It made me wish I was better or I had the skills that they have. I would run out of words and things to write down, but I knew I needed to continue if I wanted to grow as a writer. I may not write compositions worthy of an award or a bunch of compliments, but honestly what’s important to me right now is to be able to relay my feelings through my work. What I want the most is for my art to reach out to people and make them feel or imagine what I felt while writing. Rather than producing something that is described as beautiful, I want my work to be described as honest and raw. As someone who makes art out of emotions, there’s no better compliment than someone telling me that he/she felt my art. I write out of feelings and together with that are my hopes of touching a reader’s heart.
Shoreline was made out of my fondness of the sea. The sea has always been my happiest place and to me writing is similar to that. Just like how the sea makes me happy, writing also makes me pour out emotions I am bottling up. The same way that the sea is both raging and calm, to me an effective composition makes a reader feel one thing, then another. It feels like writing is both my voice and listener hence, I came up with the tag: The sea listens; it’s the same way how the sea becomes a spectator to the stories of people.
The sea, whether still or raging, remains listening to words I failed to utter.
© Lyka Marie Nuyles. HU12. All rights reserved
©https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/371476669262135821/
Oasis
When you grow tired of all the things you used to love
Come and rest your head in my heart.
In the turmoil of your darkest hours,
I will be there to shine light,
I will be there to be your last lifeline
And I will be there as someone who will walk with you
Even when the road seems too distant
Because remember when I was in my own battle,
Remember when you just didn't fly me to the moon,
But you had the moon, itself, carried in those loving hands
Remember when you told me, in the soft caress of your voice,
“You can hold onto me as if I were your last bit of hope.”
Listen closely to what my heart wants to tell you
'I will be your hope as much as how you are my hope'
And while we're both getting lost
There's no need to be afraid—
For when two hearts get lost in the mirage of a desert
Its beats will become one
Then, both will be found
Somehow.
©https://images.app.goo.gl/sJ3nP3HSpCAAGJrg8
Symphonic Hearts
Even with an evening gown as sophisticated as this, I couldn’t help but wish I blended more with the background. I didn’t like the stares they’re giving me, or at least the stares I feel like they were giving me, so I stood aside, trying very hard to avoid eye contacts, and secretly prayed he wouldn’t stood me up. It wasn’t long before I heard a soft ‘hey’ behind me. I turned around only to see the epitome of beauty that is him. The first thing I noticed about him was the golden bow he wore around his collar; it’s the same color as the intricate design of what I was wearing for the occasion and as the hopeless romantic that I am, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling because of it.
“Have you been waiting for a while?”
I wanted to tell him, I’ve been waiting for at least 20 minutes now, but seeing him like this—with all the tuxedo and neatly combed hair— makes up for the long wait, so I remained silent and just shook my head. Everything seemed to be perfect, except for the little agitation he seemed to be hiding. It was subtle, but it was evident in the way his breath shook every time he exhaled. “Are you alright?” I asked him. Sunset hit his eyes as they found mine and I had to tell myself twice not to tear up at his ethereal being. A soft grin. Then a chuckle.
He breathed out deeply before saying, “I’m good. Should we go inside?” He offered his arm for me to cling on, I took it and we’ve never been as close as this; I feared he might just hear the symphony I have in my heart if he just moved an inch closer. This had better not be a dream.
It felt like time was going by slowly and quickly all at the same time. Slow because the world seemed to slow down while he's beside me and quick because there's never enough time to feel this serene with him.
He offered his hand for a dance and I took it, finding warmth even in the coldness of his palm. It didn’t matter to me now that people could stare; it only took a little glance from him, a little gentleness in his voice while he sings the song we’re dancing to then, I’d drown in the feel of him.
I was spell-bound.
The spell didn’t last forever though. For a second, I was confused with what a friend of his told him moments ago: “Good luck”. I mustered up the courage I have left and asked him,
“Good luck for what?”
I stared at the stars he has caught in those eyes. I stared at them as they smiled right back at me.
“Nothing. It doesn’t really matter.”
“Is it something that private?”
He pursed his lips as if containing a smile growing from them.
“I’m finally telling her how I feel.”
I swear if it weren’t for the ballad playing, he would hear my heart stop.
“Are you tired?” he asked me.
Of dancing with him? No. The night could go on forever and I’ll keep dancing with him until the skin on my calves wear off, until all the ballads in the world stop playing.
But I still told him I was tired just so we won’t be this intoxicatingly close.
I watched them, neither knowing what to say nor feel, until I locked eyes with the woman he’s dancing with. I watched how love might just blossom between them and how it’s nothing compared to the love I’ve been building so secretly. I watched until I fell down into infinite depths and into nothing I return.
And so I storm my way out of the room, eyes stinging with tears.
The wait was never worth it, after all.
©https://weheartit.com/unwaifu/collections/101169213-photography
Home
You don't exactly know how homes should feel like, but all you know is that homes are not supposed to be built like this.
It's not supposed to suck all the life that's left in you. It's not supposed to make you feel like you're an inch closer to death. You don't know how homes should really feel like, but you do know though that the people who build this home are not supposed to claw at each others neck, day by day.
You can never call it home when you wake up and the first thing you see are guns pointed at each others head.
But at the end of the day, you'd still come home to this house of cards even when it's crumbling down to ashes. After all, it's the only safe haven you have left. It's the only safe haven where you'd still expect to receive sweet presents and forehead kisses even when you know it'll all turn out to be a facade in the end.
This is the kind of home that will make you wish for death, but on most days, it's the kind of home that will make you wish for kindness. Even just a tad bit of kindness.
-I hope the alcohol was enough to keep us warm from a home as cold as this.
Visions of Gideon
I wanted to kiss the sun you caught in those eyes,
to taste the ocean in those lips,
and run my hands along that skin that Prometheus carved himself.
This, this is the very thought of your existence
that made stars form constellations
rivers into oceans and seas
and galaxies formed the entire cosmos
I think to myself how your voice will tell me a thousand things and
how I almost have fallen for it utterly and completely
that I swear I could name every chamber you have in that heart
I have never spoken of you, my love
and yet it's still a wonder to me how am I always left tongue tied
—my words, they have always been in love with you.
©https://images.app.goo.gl/Tv9T3NyPSaXZvicp9
Everythingoes
I look up and the sky is crying for me. Perhaps it understands that I have shed enough tears already, so it’s telling me to ‘hush now, dry those eyes, I will cry for you instead’. It’s comforting to know that at least someone up there understands that I am weary.
As I wait for a bus to take me where I have to go, I stare at how busy the crowd is despite the murky weather. Everyone appears to be in a hurry. I drown myself in the pitter-patter of the rain, the sound of honking cars, the rhythm of the crowd’s footsteps, and then a bus screeching to a stop. “Finally,” I utter under my breath before entering the vehicle. I sit by the window, patiently waiting for the traffic to move thinking to myself that I am not in a hurry after all.
Eventually, I found myself in front of the building’s entrance with feet glued to the ground. I can feel the confusion in people’s eyes staring at me, but it’s nothing compared to what I see in my own reflection: a pair of anxious and frightened eyes staring right back at me. I let out an exasperated breath and with shaky hands, I pushed the door open. White walls greeted me as soon as I entered. My nose almost hurt from the smell of alcohol creeping up my nostrils, but I am used to it. What I cannot really get used to is that, wherever I look it’s the same faces of hope that I see. Different faces, but in a way these people are similar—they are all holding onto dear life. I try not to look at them in the eyes as I pass by them.
It isn’t long until the intercom said something about code blue and suddenly medical workers after medical workers are dashing. I stand at the side to give way and try very hard to ignore the heartbeats pounding in my chest. My throat suddenly went dry, feeling hot and cold at the same time. I lean on the wall behind me as I try to gasp for air and calm myself down. Their eyes are staring at me once again. I can never stand it. Everyone in here does not only appear to be in a hurry; everyone in here is in a constant battle against time and not to mention, against death. The mere thought of someone in the brink of death just a few meters away from me sent chills down my spine, but just like any other times, I brush it all off. A familiar face greets me at the information desk.
“It’s good to see you again, Anna,” Nurse Jane greets me with a warm smile. I smile back at her. “It’s nice to see you too. I’m here to visit Mother.” She hands me the visitor’s pass, we bid our goodbyes, then I left to see Mother.
Clair de Lune is playing when I entered Mother’s room. She’s asleep upon my arrival, so I decided to unpack the food and clothes I brought her. After doing so, I sit beside her to watch her sleep. She never looked as serene as this, I think to myself.
Cancer has taken much of her hair and weight, but her beauty remains. I run my hand down her cheek when her eyes flew open.
I can hear my heart breaking from her motherly smile.
With a soft, raspy voice, she greeted me hello. “Hi,” I told her back. “How are you feeling? I brought clothes and food for you. You should eat.” I tried to stand up, but she pulled my hand, so I’m back in my seat. She carefully studies my face and, “Have you been crying again?”
“Mother, please. Don’t worry about me. I am fine. You should worry about yourself.” She laughed softly and for the second time, I stand up to get her food.
“You know, I should be the one doing this for you, not the other way around.” Mother said, trying to spark a conversation while she chomps down on a lettuce. I don’t know what to say, so I just smiled.
“Ah,” a weary sigh from her.
“I regret not being able to take care of you.”
“All those times I wasted being confined to these four walls. I’ve never really been a mother to you have I?” She uttered those words with a sad smile.
I feel my eyes stinging with tears, so I cleared my throat. “Getting better was never a waste of time.” The lump in my throat makes it so hard to speak.
“Touché. Still, I had the choice to be a mother to you or just be someone who is bedridden all her life. What’s the point of being a mother if I cannot even take care of you?”
“I’d rather have you bedridden than watch you suffer and die. You are and always have been a mother to me whether bedridden or not. I have never resented you for being confined to these walls; I have and will never resent you for choosing to have another chance at life.” I can feel my eyes starting to well up once again.
“So, please. Please don’t think about anything else and just get better. At least do this for me okay?”
Mother reached out to me to wipe the tears on my cheeks and my heart hurt when I saw her eyes starting to tear up as well.
I start to doubt if things will really get better.
“My sweet, sweetheart. Someday, you’ll understand that we’re only here briefly.”
I wanted to tell her, I understand it now— I just wanted to feign ignorance about time and death because perhaps, if I pretend we’re not running out of time, I would never lose her to death.
Sunrise at Sea (2017), Lyka Nuyles
A Wave of Nostalgia: Sea Spell
The happiness that I have been looking for is embossed in every crash of the tides. It is in the breeze that’s neither too cold nor too humid, just the adequate temperature that would make the little hairs on my nape stand as if I were watching a well-deserved standing ovation play. It is in the way the sand sinks, the way those little grains tickle my bare feet. I have never really known what it meant to feel euphoric until I found the place I love the most—the sea.
The Sun kisses the Sea good morning before he rises to watch over her; this is how I remember spending the dawn watching threads upon threads of faint gold cascade down and across the waters. The life at sea then, is basking away in hushed tones. The world seems soft, subtle, almost a twin to Monet’s paintings. Then, there’s always this certain scent of the sea that I can never name, but it would constantly tell me that if I breathe, I am breathing with the sea. I remember being fond of those heavenly hours of letting the Sun drench me in his golden rays and the Sea’s crashing waves. The quiet of those hours is a juxtaposition to the sky’s unfolding explosion of colors. My eyes, though stinging with tears from the wind, are staring at something that is timeless, incomparable and so, so spell-binding that I never want to leave.
Afternoons at the sea would be scorching hot; it would almost hurt my skin. There are no regrets though, especially when I spend it grilling fish and meat for lunch. The food has this smoky aftertaste lingering on my mouth and at the same time, it’s something that would remind me that I taste the sea in it. Afternoons, too, are not moments bound for siesta. There are islands after islands, waiting, telling me that I don’t have enough time to explore and appreciate their beauty. Strong, monochromatic waves greet me, and although strained by a hint of fear, it’s nothing compared to the desire of being one with the sea, of being submerged. Happiness is when I let myself disappear underwater and come back to surface to gasp for air. It’s like being dead for once, being alive the next, then everything is as if my homecoming.
Night falls at sea, yet it’s as enticing as it is on day time. Faint voices and karaoke at a distance and cheers for dancing couples at another, I stare at them with smiles plastered on my face. I think to myself the stories they have left untold and if they have ever whispered it to the perfect, little pinpricks of white, blanketed in darkness above. It isn’t long enough until I drift my attention back to the waves in front of me; night time and sea—just the perfect combination to feel sentimental. There I sat enchanted by the dancing glows underwater. There I sat wide-eyed, wondering about nothing and everything at once. There I sat marvelling at how the sea—whether at day or noon or night—can be the greatest oxymoron a poet can ever write about.
©https://images.app.goo.gl/QXHWSd8NCuMyohrh9
Toxic Social Media
The term "toxic" is used to describe a behavior that is obnoxious and problematic. As of today's time, this word is commonly encountered on social media sites especially when netizens are criticizing a person who has an unpleasant personality online. For insatnce, when the news of Joshua Garcia and Julia Barretto's breakup spread like wildfire, people started calling Julia Barretto's behavior as toxic because of the alleged cheating situation going on. Netizens would also usually say 'Stay away from toxic people' or 'don’t feel bad when you unfollow toxic people' to show how much obnoxious personalities on social media are abhorred.
In order to avoid being toxic, you should be careful of your activities online. As the saying goes, think before you click. Be mindful of your posts and comments, and make sure to practice the rules of netiquette. Most importantly, if you ever encounter someone who is exhibiting toxic behavior, never engage with unnecessary hate towards that person— stay away from toxic people to avoid negativity!
You Use Technology, Technology Doesn't Use You
In an era where technology continues to advance, people have started to use these advancements for their benefit. Parents, grandparents, sons, and daughters, all of these people are using technology to make their works and lives easier. People have become overly dependent on technology that even the simple task of playing one’s favourite song is made easier through voice commands like Alexa.
However, this dependence is not necessarily bad—or at least, to some extent.
Dependence on technology is evident even in one’s own household. Take cooking rice as an example; this simple and traditional way of cooking rice has become more convenient through the use of rice cookers. One doesn’t need to watch the rice he/she cooks in fear of it being burnt because rice cookers would do all the work. Some would say, this is the kind of technology that makes a person lazy; some would say, it’s really not that serious since it’s just the matter of convenience; either way, it won’t change the fact that this advancement has become a very big help especially to people who would rather save their time and energy for something else.
Overdependence on technology only becomes bad for people when limitations aren’t taken into consideration. A group of friends who like to go out shopping, eating, or any activity that friends usually enjoy would fish their phones from their pockets in order to capture every moment of being together. It would only take a few clicks and then Instagram stories will be uploaded. There’s really nothing wrong with that—it’s just a bunch of people enjoying the luxury of sharing what’s going on with their lives. This becomes wrong only when people start to fiddle with their phones with their heads down and mouths shut. Technology gives way for a more convenient communication, but to be really honest, it has also taken the essence of simple conversing, making jokes, and exchanging how are you’s with peers.
The dangers of overdependence on technology don’t just stop there. It has also affected the lives of workers. It may have made work convenient for some, but to others? Technology made them lose their jobs. Moreover, through technology advancements, the use of many social media sites has become a trend these days. Social media connects people, yes, but ever since trends were made, people have started to think that they have to conform to the good image that social media portrays. People have started to seek validity on social media. As a result, countless cases of cyberbullying and lower self-esteems have become evident too, especially with teenagers. Since limitations and priorities weren’t set, people have become blinded with the misuse of technology—people have started to isolate themselves because of technology.
Too much of everything is bad; same thing goes for the use of technology. Being dependent on technology is not wrong especially when it’s for helping people to be at ease because that’s why it was invented from the very first place—it is designed to help people. Perhaps, things would be really different (not to mention, hard) if technology did not advance. Perhaps, it’d be hard to survive. Technology was made to be used by people, not the other way around. It’s not supposed to use people for wrong things. It isn’t invented to make people conform to something that is in trend. As long as limitations are clear, overdependence on technology isn’t as bad as it sounds.