Dark soul

Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

This one will take me longer than I expected because this is completely dark…like my soul right now. This is just rough sketch, no textures and dimension yet, no proper human figure, since I need to study the shadows and light first. Once I figure out the proper chiaroscuro, I can translate this to watercolor–maybe.

This scene reminds of Robert Frost and Edgar Allan Poe combined.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

I gravitate now towards the imagery painted by Edgar Allan Poe. Dark. Wicked. My heart is full of anger and hatred. Especially that the woman I got cheated on with has a name and face (although she looks like a transvestite, my friends and my daughters said; all boobs but no substance). What angers me is the fact that everything was a lie. I was led on. From the very beginning. All the memories I cherished now have no meaning. Can’t help but feel like I was that Bloomberg reporter who was used by Martin Shkreli a.k.a. Pharma Bro. The difference is that she’s still under this illusion that he really cared for her when he already dropped the bomb like it was just all on her side, “Mr. Shkreli wishes Ms. Smythe the best of luck in her future endeavors.”


Arts and humanities have saved my life/sanity (somehow…I’m still working on that sanity part with my shrink). As my high school Literature teacher said: Science can tell you how your eyes produce tears and its composition. Literature (or humanities in general), on the other hand, tells you why there are tears…

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray …

Christina Rosetti (1830-94)

This was my favorite poem when I was in high school. I remember I did a watercolor painting with these words written on the painting. I remember the watercolor painting had a cliff against an orange-pink sky. Similar to this photo below:

Laguna Lake, Angono, Rizal. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I’m channeling all my negative energy/feelings to whatever my hands can do, with the help of the arts I learned throughout my years in school. I may not be good but at least I can do something. My mom said she is envious of me that I have outlets like writing, music, and drawing to express grief. She didn’t have any that’s why the Catholic church was her only solace. She said without the church, she would have gone insane because of my father.

Yep, getting badly treated by men runs in my family. That’s why I am open to my children about this so they won’t commit the same mistake. My mom’s mistake was she defended my father and hid everything. She normalized a man’s bad treatment of his partner and that “you just have to understand where he’s coming from.” That was a fatal mistake.

My girls said, “No Mommy, we will not get married. We won’t date.” Twin I was most hurt because she admired Tito J. She said she even picked up tea drinking because of him. She always tried finishing her vegetables because that was Tito J expected of her. Now she has sworn off men–I feel bad for her having her heart broken like this. She looked up to him. She said he was only scolding them for the bad habits because he wanted them to be better. Twin A said Tito J was right about the iPads and school. The only thing that they didn’t like about him was he squeezed their cheeks too much that it hurt.

It was another thing that bugs me. I let him hurt them…I knew he didn’t like them so he resorted to hurting them. That was so wrong on my part. That’s why I blamed myself for putting him first before them.

I want my girls to be closer to my brother, physically and emotionally, so at least they would have a better role model. I want them to be closer to my brother’s sons. I don’t want them to have unhealthy relationships with men when they become adults. Proper training and open discussion can hopefully guide them when it comes to friendships and romantic relationships. I didn’t have those. Good thing I had good male friends in high school and college–even now with fellow journalists. I was lucky I had good platonic relationships with them. However, when it comes to romantic relationships, I just picked up whatever I grew up with, which was not healthy. And these are things I learned growing up: try to keep it to yourself; give all your unconditional love because love conquers all; be a doormat; make excuses for him and understand where he is coming from; it’s ok if he hurts you because you can win back his love…ALL BULLSHIT. All I learned from my mom.

I don’t have the heart to tell her all of these because…what’s the point? She will just feel bad forever. She already felt bad when she saw how my marriage crumbled. She told me she saw herself in me.

Fuck it. I walked away from it and sashayed into a more evil story. Now mom, you still see yourself in me???

Long have I longed, till I am tired
Of longing and desire;
Farewell my points in vain desired,
My dying fire;
Farewell all things that die and fail and tire.

Christina Rosetti

3:57 am. I need sleep. This anxiety is really killing me. Being angry and sad at the same time is never good for me. I really wish I could do an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and just erase everything. Be blissfully ignorant of this kind of pain. K asked me, I thought you’ve already accepted that he was not a good person? I said, “I know, but somehow I naively believed that in the beginning it was real, so I kept the memories because those were the only redeeming things left of him. Now I realized I was completely wrong. Now it hurts me even more that even those memories I held of him were wrong. It’s like you loved your parents so much, unconditionally, and then they betrayed you. That all the things you thought all your life were the truth were really lies. That they fed you lies. And now you are trying to live your truth but their lies continue to follow you to haunt you. Now how do you think I can heal?! I was getting successful at it and then he throws this curve ball. You know how hard I worked at it, K. You are the one who was there from the beginning. I tried so hard, K. You know that.”

Time check: 4:14 am.

I guess I won’t sleep tonight, huh?

How are you?

Friends had been asking me, “How are you?”

I sent them this sketch:

Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

No need for words. Because words aren’t enough.

There are times when writers fail but visual artists succeed in conveying indescribable emotions. That’s why I appreciate artists who could take an image to the next level. Writing is a very complex cognitive process and if your heart and brain are not in sync, it’s nearly impossible to finish the task. And my brain and heart are already tired finding the right words. That’s why I resorted to drawing again. It’s more of the emotions pushing every pencil stroke. You just have to think about where the light is coming from–chiaroscuro. Today’s drawing is composed of soft lines because I want to be nicer to myself. Yesterday was all about harsh and angular lines because I was very angry. I’m debating whether I should complete tonight’s sketch or I leave it as is, because the feeling it evokes is enough.

Despite my emotional state today, I still managed to have a call, finish an analysis piece, and work on some emails. I NEED TO SLEEP! I have an interview with a CEO of a global company tomorrow morning. Oh God, help me sleep.


It’s 2:37 am. Been waking up every 30 mins or an hour. But this shouldn’t happen because I just took alprazolam at 10 pm. I’m so fucked up.

Please, let me sleep in peace. I don’t deserve this PTSD.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

You Ought To Know – Alanis Morisette

I want you to know, that I am happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theater?
Does she speak eloquently
And would she have your baby?
I’m sure she’d make a really excellent mother

‘Cause the love that you gave that we made
Wasn’t able to make it enough for you
To be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You’d hold me until you died
‘Til you died, but you’re still alive

And I’m here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It’s not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

You seem very well, things look peaceful
I’m not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face
How quickly I was replaced
And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?

‘Cause the love that you gave that we made
Wasn’t able to make it enough for you
To be open wide, no
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You’d hold me until you died
‘Til you died, but you’re still alive

And I’m here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It’s not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

‘Cause the joke that you laid in the bed
That was me and I’m not gonna fade
As soon as you close your eyes, and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails
Down someone else’s back I hope you feel it
Well, can you feel it?

Well I’m here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It’s not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

Well I’m here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It’s not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know

Well, not really quickly replaced. I was cheated on. There you go. I am so fucking angry right now.

Sleepless

I no longer know what to do with my head and hands. I can’t sleep. My heart is breaking into a million pieces but is still held by a flimsy tape.

Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com
Art and photo by CallMeCreation.com

I hate drawing hands. I’ll redo the hands later today after observing my own hands.

This is how I feel today. I don’t know how to channel this pain. I no longer know how to express this since words aren’t enough. Singing it isn’t enough. I need to express it graphically to make it raw. To make it more real, more tangible. Like shooting an arrow straight to the heart.

I may have to buy a big sketch pad and this Muji notebook for my work notes will not do.

I think God can explain

Art by @avogado6

There’s a lot of things I understand
And there’s a lot of things that
I don’t want to know
But you’re the only face I recognize
It’s so damn sweet of you
To look me in the eyes

It’s alright, I’m O.K.
I think God can explain
I believe I’m the same
I get carried away
It’s alright, I’m O.K.
I think God can explain
I’m relieved I’m relaxed
I’ll get over it yet

The scent of Vaseline
In the summertime
The feel of an ice cube
Melting overtime
The world seems bigger
Than both of us
Yet it seems so small
When I begin to cry

It’s alright, I’m O.K.
I think God can explain
I believe I’m the same
I get carried away
It’s alright, I’m O.K.
I think God can explain
I’m relieved I’m relaxed
I’ll get over it yet

I’m so much better than you guessed
I’m so much bigger than you guessed
I’m so much brighter than you guessed

It’s alright I’m O.K.
I think God can explain
I believe I’m the same
I get carried away

It’s alright I’m O.K.
I think God can explain
I’m relieved I’m relaxed
I’ll get off of your back

I think God can explain
I think God can explain
I think God can explain

Art by @Avogado6

I’m so, so tired.

Vitamin Sea

Anilao, Mabini, Batangas. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Old and fresh wounds have opened up and as expected, I had trouble sleeping despite taking alprazolam. I hate this. I thought I’m done with this. I thought I’m mending. I thought I’m going to be alright. I thought wrong.

I’m still so, so far. A little thank you sends so many bitter memories and feelings. I’m like this broken vase that keeps cracking, breaking, and repairing itself with little bits and pieces of whatever could be salvaged.

I hope I’m not a zombie by Monday since Asian markets will be back again. Inflation concerns are creeping up. I should be alert and scoop up FMETF when it dips. I have US-East Asia de-SPAC stories to write. I have a lot of things to write 🤦🏻‍♀️

I want a huge dose of Vitamin sea now but I have to be careful. I checked with Blue Ribbon yesterday if my reservation for last year is still intact; they said it’s there and I just have to tell them when I will have the 4D-3N reservation. Probably we’ll go there when the winds are kinder and the diving sites are much pleasant. I would have to buy the doughnut and diving buoy. I should buy those fins meant for free dives, too. How about underwater camera???

By June probably we can go to Bohol (if resorts are already operating) or Moalboal for the sardine run. The girls suggested Palawan for my solo trip to refresh me. They know everything that’s why they are rallying behind me.

Do the things that I love to banish this pain. Do the things that make me ME and not feel small when others seem to lead shinier lives. I’m not like that. I like contemplative activities, as well as the outdoors, but I also like creating a home. I like taking care of others. K said he misses my cooking so I said we’ll have barbeque outside my apartment with other friends. Just no talk of his sexcapades with his one-night-stand boylets or else my neighbors will be scandalized.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I finished one panel. Two panels more for the girls’ bedroom. Then I will tackle the curtains for the living room.

Later today or tomorrow when I’m feeling much better, I will tackle the container garden. Seeing flowers make me happy. I like working with my hands, be it cooking, gardening or crafting. But I also like having battle of wits with CEOs for mental calisthenics. Putting a lot of platitudes on a social media profile only makes one look shallow. I’d rather have cerebral swordfights with these guys and earn their respect. During my last interview, the CEO of a firm abroad told me he enjoyed our conversation because I get it.

Hmm, maybe I should have a side gig interviewing people on TV. I can probably pitch…

Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I will get through this. One day there will be no more pain. I will look back when I’m 60 and say, yeah, I’ve lived a good life: raised my kids, have good friends, did the things I love and not chase shallowness and illusions. And yeah, libraries have the books I wrote.

One day, no more pain. Oh God, it hurts right now.


It’s 5:39 am. It seems like meeting daylight is a regular thing for me now.

I’ve come to hate the night. What used to be a time that offers rest and tranquility is now a time of chaos and restlessness. I can’t take alprazolam again because it’s a controlled substance, therefore, addictive. For goodness’ sake, it’s a tranquilizer!

When will this end? Haven’t I carried this cross long enough? I wish I could snap my fingers and boom–it’s gone. No, it doesn’t work that way.

I’m trying. I’m really trying.

If loving unconditionally means long-term suffering like this, then I no longer choose to love like that ever. I am really swearing off this thing called love. It’s just for my girls and the cats, that’s it. God, I can’t take this anymore.