An Elegy to the Year I Lost

Maria Victoria Busine

here lies familiarity, buried six feet under, as we tread the deep waters of uncertainty

here lies normalcy, the forgotten feeling, the death of routines that kept us going

here lies the year I lost, spent in front of a screen, pretending that nothing’s wrong

here lies the past, buried beneath these strange times, when I look back, will I remember?

here lies the time that slipped by, leaving us wondering where it all went

Cog

Shekynah Angelene Samadan

Clunky, rusty metals spin fast as you run. Step after step, your legs refuse to wear out. One sudden stop and they will pluck you off your post. No dinner for your frailing wife and child. The scorching sun beams its nasty rays directly at you, causing your pores to sweat profusely. Enough to lube up this devilish contraption you are in, enough for you to slip. You are trapped. You know this. Glued to the soles of your shoes are the bars of this hamster wheel device. Bleak. The sky is festered with the manic scene of white and grey, but the sun continues to burn you, and the clouds refuse to be your friend.

The lunch break had zipped by like a bloodsucking vermin, having already forgotten the taste of your fluids. Right now, all you can think about is the exit door, despite knowing the pain it takes to navigate that treacherous path. It is hidden beneath a maze of convoluted hallways, with a Minotaur looming on every corner. They say you must have a map to know the ends of this nine-to-five nightmare. You have to know the lingua franca by heart, and you have to give up a limb or two in order to free yourself from this overbearing curse Ego has put forth onto you.

Washed out in grayscale, your life moves in a looping reel. Stomped to bits by rules, chaining you as a suit-wearing, briefcase-carrying freak of the night. No wonder why they hinder your escape, you dove headfirst to the shallow pool of business letters and on-site meetings. It is disgusting how much you rely on stale coffee and holiday bonuses to function. Clock in, clock out—you are gone. Though honestly, I could not entirely blame you. No words can hide it, but you are a victim. A victim of the cloying promise of winning in a marathon with no finish line in sight. But they continue to whip you into shape, saying you will be ahead of the game if you just run, run, run, and run. Until you draw your last breath.

Once Promised

Jacinth Banite

Standing on a tilted stage is a man in a high-end tuxedo, wearing his vigorous façade. He speaks fluent English while his tongue is tied to each word he utter. His chin is up, his eyes are oozing with satisfaction, glaring toward flashing cameras that go along with murmurs of the crowd, wearing thick lanyards on their neck. As his hands go deeper in his pockets, conscious with his posture behind the podium, he firmly tells his story of success with a modulated voice.

“There are two kinds of people in this world, those who dream, and those who succeed in their dream,” he says with a grin on his lips, syllabicating each word as if it is his first time saying them.

As he reaches the bottom of his self-effacing speech, there comes another statement carved on his tongue for so long, yet remains unceasing; “With right grit and determination, I stand here in front of you wearing what I wear, saying what I say. This is not because of fate, nor because of someone else. We do make our own future, so now, you decide, which one of those two kinds of people are you? Are you a mere dreamer, or are you the one who chooses to live your dream?” He removed his gaze from the prompter in front of him as he firmly fixed his stare to the crowd. Shifting to the language of masses, he utters a final line with more power in his voice, “Hindi mo kasalanan kung pinanganak kang mahirap, pero na sa iyo na kung mamatay kang mahirap.”

With those parting words, the crowd goes loud as he slowly takes a step back from the microphone, standing firm at the center of the stage, taking a moment to acknowledge the round of applause the crowd is giving him.

Somewhere in the city of Manila, the same man is standing on the narrow and elevated platform, wearing a striking determination on his face. He speaks the mother tongue with pure persuasion and intent, articulating every word he says. He wears nothing fancy, a plain, almost-faded red shirt and old Levi’s pants. His grip is tangled with the microphone cord as he speaks to his fellow college students, whose eyes are gleaming with admiration. As the tropical weather intensifies, he firmly tells his wellestablished viewpoints: “Iyong mga nakaupo at mga nasa itaas! Sila ang

tunay na taksil! Hindi sila marunong lumingon sa kagaya nating nasa laylayan ng lipunan!” The crowd goes loud amid the ear-splitting vehicle horns passing on the nearby highway. He says each word with a daring look of anger on his face.

As he reaches the momentum of his speech, there comes another statement that has long been tangled in his heart and thoughts: “Pagod na akong marinig mula sa mga mayayaman kung gaano kadali para sa kanila ang mangarap! Napakadaling sabihing kasalanan ng mahirap kung sila ay mahirap. Samahan nyo akong sagutin sila na hangga’t may mga mapagsamantalang kapitalista, hangga’t may mga nakaupong sariling kapakanan ang iniisip, ang mayaman ay patuloy na magiging mayaman, tayong mahihirap ay mananatiling mahirap!”

With those passionate words, the crowd maintains its energy as he slowly lowers down the microphone from his mouth. He stands firm at the center of the platform, taking a moment to acknowledge the round of applause the crowd is giving him. He is about to continue when a loud whistle disturbs the escalating cheers, followed by five police vehicles approaching the crowded street of Manila. A trifling stampede pans out, leaving nothing but the broken microphone rolling alone on that narrow and elevated platform.

Infinite Wish

Aprilean Octavo

Eighty years from now Slapstick, fraud, false hopes will end Till then we speak up

Memories of Yesteryear

Kayla Nicole De Quiroz

I vaguely remember the twinkling stars, The ones that guided us To trudge the long road Where we danced until our feet hurt, And the breeze relieved us

The nights where we walked With no direction in mind— Talked about our dreams of becoming People we wanted to be

Under the moonlight, Our eyes sparkled with hope For we know that as days go on, And challenges get rough, There will always be tomorrow

However, the starry nights were replaced By empty ceilings, And laughter can no longer be heard Not unless we make it ourselves

For tonight, there are no roads to walk on, With our feet bare and hanging On the windows of our home, Only remembering our freedom

Nostalgia kicking in, And our reality sinks in, We can only reminisce— But we can’t dance under the stars anymore

Oil on Canvas

Shekynah Angelene Samadan

Can ambiguity form us another image of Madonna and child

where warmth is once again warmth

but with kisses from mother amplified by years of staining oil that is not only

of the Holy Child

for the next life being I utter a novena to make a religion and perfume my own feet

Splatter of wine and treachery mix me with bronze and gold call me the next Masterpiece

350 Grams

Lean Jane Pantorilla

The average breathing human Weighs 136.7 pounds With heart, lungs, And brain intact

The mass of earth is constant 7 billion humans and counting Yet it doesn’t get heavier Doesn’t get lighter Doesn’t fall out of space in all its grief Or shrinks in itself when it all gets too much

Day in, day out It revolves around the sun Like a broken spinning top Death means nothing To this oversized magnet: Life goes on, with or without

Yet the human heart is different It boasts a mere 350 grams But falls hard with the impact Of a meteorite meeting the ground

It can only skip a few beats Can only pump so much blood But who knew this fist-sized baby Can fit so much pain and love

The average human heart Weighs less than 1 pound But the more people come and go The heavier it becomes

(Almost as if it could never get enough)

The Keeper

Jacinth Banite

Silence lingers everywhere Firmly, a man rests his glare Keeping thy highness secrets With thick blades in his pockets

Ang Katiwala

Jacinth Banite

Tahimik ang paligid Tikas s’yang nagmamasid Tangan ng amo’y lihim Sa bulsa’y nagpatalim

Snellen

Shekynah Angelene Samadan

with steady vision I train my eyes to move along with my desires locomotive they go to addictions, they pillage the dirt road you bare arid while I maneuver to be something out of nothing

Samsara

Ahmad Mahusay

As we eat the leaves We crawl back to our pupas A cycle happens

Convicted

Jacinth Banite

PNP arrests suspect behind Santos rape-slay case

BREAKING: Manila, 2021 — Philippine National Police (PNP) arrests suspect in the Michelle Santos rape-slay case around 2 PM, today, August 16, in Tondo, Manila. Identified as Hilario Rivera, the suspect is a 47-year- old garbage collector who lives a few blocks away from where the body was found. Rivera was allegedly seen segregating wastes nearby the crime scene the night before Santos’ assault.

Initial findings of the police certify that the murder occured somewhere else from Tondo, yet PNP had soon retracted this statement by claiming that they had not found any marks on the body that would suggest a possible transportation.

Meanwhile, latest police reports stated that five sachets of what seemed to be methamphetamine hydrochloride, commonly known as shabu, were found in Rivera’s home. This accusation was immediately denied by his wife, Ana, saying that her husband does not have any record of drug use.

“Oo, nahuli ‘yan [Rivera] dati dahil may ninakaw. Pero kahit kailan hindi gumamit ang asawa ko ng droga. Hindi ko nga alam kung saang lupalop nakuha ng mga pulis na ‘yan yung mga nakuha nila,” Mrs. Rivera said in an interview.

The suspect is expected to undergo a series of trials starting tomorrow to prove his innocence.

Convicted suspect Hilario Rivera dies by suicide

BREAKING: Manila, 2023 — Convicted murderer and rapist Hilario Rivera hanged himself inside his cell in Manila City Jail around 3 AM today, July 1, as reported on the official Facebook account of the Philippine National Police (PNP) this morning.

Rivera made headlines back in June 2021 for being the primary suspect in the death of 16 years old Michelle Santos, the girl whose body was found in a dumpsite in Tondo in the same month two years ago.

Rivera received a life sentence without the possibility of parole after the court favored the authority’s investigations against him.

Meanwhile, netizens expressed their anger and disappointment on social media, claiming that an “injustice” was done to Rivera.

“He couldn’t take it anymore… paying for something he did not do,” a Twitter post reads. “Sana mahuli na kung sino talaga may kasalanan.”

“Evidence against him was purely circumstantial, yet he was sentenced to life. May you rest in peace, Kuya Hilario,” writes another netizen on Facebook.

The Santos rape-slay case had surfaced media’s top stories in 2021 for having too many layers and angles that the police failed to clarify. Along with the spread of conspiracy theories online, rumors of an alleged manipulation from the PNP following the investigation of the case had circulated under the hashtag #RiveraNOTGuilty, which now trends once again, as they claim that the said

deceased convicted murderer was also just a victim.

Former PNP chief Fernando Suarez arrested for 2021 murder-rape case in Tondo

BREAKING: Manila, 2025 — Former Philippine National Police (PNP) chief Fernando Suarez was arrested this morning after an unidentified whistleblower disclosed Suarez’s participation in the murder of Michelle Santos, a 16-year-old girl who was raped and killed in Tondo, Manila in 2021, which led to the arrest of Hilario Rivera, the inmate who hanged himself inside his cell in 2023.

The anonymous person cleared out the connection of Rivera to the Santos murder case, saying that Suarez intentionally ordered to dump the body in a slum area in Tondo in hopes to shift the blame to someone else within the area.

By providing a folder of evidence which includes videotapes, photographs, and voice recordings taken when the murder occurred, the whistleblower told the police that Suarez had killed five more females aside from Santos and hid their bodies in his villa located in Makati.

According to the police, guilt led the said whistle blower to come out and confess Suarez’ involvement with the mentioned murder cases, saying that they can no longer maintain silence about these killings knowing that they could happen again anytime.

Authorities are currently retrieving the victims’ remains which are expected to undergo a sequence of postmortem procedures to determine the cause of their death.

Meanwhile, Suarez’s camp have requested for a trial, claiming that the accused is being framed by someone from the opposition, disrupting his plan to run for the higher office in the upcoming senatorial election. They appeal for the court to consider granting Suarez a partial probationary order instead of sentencing him to life.

However, following the narrated confession, the Rivera family demands the Department of Justice (DOJ) for the reopening of Hilario Rivera’s case, two years after his death.

“Nanahimik kami laban sa tanim na ebidensya nila, ngayong tadhana na ang nagsasabi ng katotohanan, amin na ang hustisya!” said Rivera’s wife in an interview.

Tick Tock

Jacinth Banite

It is indeed fascinating, the clock inside this virtual maze The handless pace racing as mere digits, As runners conquer the passing limits— A magical sixty seconds within such illusive space

Inside is crowded, some find paths, while others walk and wander But oh, thou shall not be forgotten, the danger within Those who are lost, and are foes of searchin’ The thieves of time wasted for forged hunger

The longer they loiter, more manners go astray With a fugitive façade, delusive wits, and potent word A well-equipped deceiver amasses a herd Jutting the time they steal as they run and play

Echoes of disputes linger within the cyber haze Pavements are haunted with mere seconds Eyes blink with fierce, feet take steps in laze Wiser lips syllabicating, the weapon of misguided legends

The clock smirks when quarrels erupt The time keeps ticking and is never up They all favor it, while it favors none Often misused, thy generation’s disguise of fun

Balik Tanaw

Aprilean Octavo

Minsan sa aking paglilibot ay aking nasilayan, Mga ibong malayang nakalilipad sa kalawakan Mga isdang masayang binabaybay ang karagatan; Kay sarap pagmasdan ang bughaw na kalangitan

Sa gitna ng aking masayang paglalakbay, Napadpad at napatigil ako sa gitna ng tulay Pinipilit ang sariling magpatuloy sa buhay, Habang unti-unting nararamdaman ang lumbay

Sa aking pagpapatuloy ay aking natunghayan, Mga ibong nakapiring habang lumilipad sa kawalan Mga isdang mabilis na lumalangoy palayo sa kasakiman; Kay lungkot pagmasdan ang pula sa kalangitan

Entries from the Grave

Lean Jane Pantorilla

03142020 2300

Initial observation indicates that I’ve fallen into an unexplored crevice. A ditch, maybe? Height and depth remains unknown, and there appears to be no source of natural light. Perimeter of current location estimated 10x10 feet, the size of an average room. Just like mine back home There seems to be a passageway up ahead, but whether to explore or remain will be decided later. No way I’m heading there.

Remaining supplies within my backpack include one flashlight, a spare set of batteries, a small box of matches, and some paper that may be used as kindling. This is so stupid.

04062020 1345

After a few days of exploring within the perimeter, it has been confirmed that I have been buried.

Although the mass of earth above me has no indication of having collapsed nor being cemented, there is no other way to explain it. My body possesses no injuries that would suggest a fall, nor does the room have any other exits saved for the dark passageway ahead. I attempted to check where the small tunnel might lead, only to discover that it leads further below.

I can’t breathe. Oxygen levels appear to be low, which suggests that I may be further down than I thought. Am I going to die? The only chance of survival would be to explore.

I’m hearing strange noises from down there.

04062020 1345

I made a mistake.

The passageway was too dark, and I was too late to notice that it led to

a cliff. It has been some hours since I fell into some unknown body of water. The flashlight no longer works, along with the battery.

This journal is only able to survive thanks to my earlier initiative to wrap it up in plastic, a standard procedure in exploration for those who are too oldfashioned to rely on technology. With any luck, someone might find this, and be able to find and identify my corpse

But then again, I am already buried

I have started a fire after drying out the kindling, and by now I am able to get a better grasp of my surroundings. There’s only a few feet distance from where I am now and where I fell, so I can assume the body of water must have been meant to be some kind of water source.

The voices are getting louder, and I can only hope that there are living animals down here to eat.

Or, instead, they might just eat me

05072020 1625

The fuel is all gone.

With only a few spare matches on my person, I can only deduce that I have fallen into the darkest corner of hell. Science will try to refute my claims. The whole world will laugh at my insanity, but they have not seen the things that dwell down here.

One such beast clawed my wrist, which is why I cannot write properly. I’m losing blood. I have not taken a good look at its face, but it seems to bear some human-like appearance, and is biped. A long mass of hair sits on top of its head.

It can speak. It tells me to bleed. It says that red is the only color I’ll be able to see down here.

I was only able to get away from it after dousing it in flames. It can scream.

It is a relief to finally hear something other than me.

12112020

??

It found me

It wants to eat me alive

I’d sooner kill myself than let it touch me

I don’t know where I’m going. It appears that I am going deeper, but deeper where... I have no idea. I’ve broken a few bones along the way.

I shouldn’t have left that room. It’s so dark down here.

I’ve used up one of my last matches to write this, only to warn others that dare explore this deep. Turn back. Turn back and take yourselves with you. There is no use trying to get out. You’re better off waiting to die in that cramped up space, than risk your lives facing off these monsters.

You’re buried alive with no way out there’s no way out

At least not in your own head

This is my last match.

They caught up to me

I faced them

The creature seems to bear facial similarities with humans. Sunken cheeks, sleep-deprived eyes, bleeding lips and a posture no different from quadrupeds. Spine seems to have bent from the weight of the world, and gaze seems to be unfocused, empty and hollow. Breathing is ragged and shallow. Voice is cracked from too much screaming.

It stops moving whenever I stop. It runs when I run. No wonder I could never get away from it.

I have been running for so long that I forgot that thing can speak. Forgot that it has words. Forgot that it is capable of human thought, and therefore, human feelings.

You have buried me for so long. It croaks. It’s so dark down here.

It’s my turn to be buried

03142021 2300

Escape comes in the form of company.

The creature, despite its horrid state, does not eat me. I did not attempt to kill it either.

I noticed we both had the same scars, in the same parts of our bodies.

With both of us wounded and stranded in the dark, we have grown used to each other’s presence.

Having the worst demon beside me, I no longer fear what lies within.

Initial observation indicates that the topography is less bumpier and more stable now. There is no natural light, but we make do. We crawl in the darkness and try to get a feel of our surroundings. On narrow passages, we learn to squeeze in. When we fall in unknown waters, we swim.

I’ve stopped running, but somehow I keep on going. It’s still dark, but I’m miles away from where I started.

We could be going in circles. We could be heading somewhere worse.

We could find our way out of here.

From this point on, it would only be a matter of getting used to the lack of matches. Even now, as I write this, I wonder if my pen has made it to paper. I don’t even know if it has any ink left.

Will this be my last entry? I don’t know.

The sky hasn’t opened up and claimed us yet. The ground didn’t split and spat us out yet. There is no light at the end of the tunnel...but there is a hand reaching out in the darkness.

of hell. And if we meet more demons, at the very least, we can make a party out

New Year’s Resolution

Maria Victoria Busine

January 1, 2020

This year, I promise to be more organized.

Yes, I’m saying this as I sit in an unmade bed instead of my own desk, cluttered with papers and files that piled up during the semester. Being more organized was also my new year’s resolution for 2019, but I never really followed through, for reasons I no longer wish to recall. I even bought an expensive planner to keep me on track. I didn’t know why or how I came to think that spending so much money on something could discipline me. I ended up discovering that I’m not one for scheduling my days as I abandoned my planner in just three weeks, so there goes my precious 500 pesos, I guess. I wish I could get my money back.

Still, I plan to get organized, starting with my closet. All other parts of my life can be a mess in one way or another, but my pile of clothes takes the cake for being the messiest. I’ve been meaning to organize my closet for quite some time now: to get rid of clothes that never saw the light of day, and those that were barely worn, if only the idea of saying goodbye to them hadn’t been too daunting for me. I can’t seem to bear the thought of throwing away the clothes I was once attached to, those that held memories of the past as I wore them to special and memorable events but don’t fit me anymore. But maybe this year will be it. After that, I’m not really sure what’s the next step. I wish I was also good at planning things.

I’ve been making new year’s resolutions as far as I can remember. Even when I was younger, there were some things that I wanted to do for a fresh start whenever January arrived. But every year, I always failed to follow through. I found it too hard, too tedious, or too ridiculous to continue as days passed by. Now, however, I write this entry in the same planner I abandoned last year, wishing so bad that this is the year that I finally get it together. Hopefully, the next time I write my new year’s resolution, I can proudly say that yes, I got it together, indeed.

January 1, 2021

Bad news. I failed once again. I don’t really know why, but my life became even more of a bigger mess that pushing through my new year’s resolution already

seems pointless. I eventually had to abandon the resolution of being more organized for the year, all in favor of plowing through piles of deadlines that I had to meet. I’m so behind on schoolwork now, and even if I try to cram in as much stuff, catching up is still unlikely to me.

Oh, and there’s the clothes too.

My closet seems more like a home for all the clutter than it did for my wardrobe, as I only go through like, five T-shirts in rotation for weeks on end. I really thought 2021 was going to be the year I’d get it together. But once I abandoned the resolution I made for the new year, there’s a small part of me that whispered, “Don’t worry, there’s still next year.”

This year, however, I don’t know what I plan to do. I don’t even know if things are ever worth planning for anyway. Not when I remember how I’m spending yet another year staring at my laptop screen as an attempt to convince myself that things are still normal.

I don’t really know anymore at this point.

January 1, 2023

I have officially given up on new year’s resolutions on the day of new year itself. So maybe I skipped last year’s new year’s resolution. I forgot. Sue me.

But the truth is, there were just so many things that were happening at that time. I never really had the chance to sit down with my thoughts, and convince myself that this year is the one where I finally get to stick with my plans.

Is that a good thing? I honestly don’t know. Happy New Year to me, regardless. I just felt so tired at this point that I don’t even dare think that anything is worth trying, not anymore. But I have to say, even with those failed attempts at new year’s resolutions for the past years, I have learned something new. Maybe this is an anti-new year’s resolution movement that I’m making?

I don’t really know, but the thing is, after those past years where many unprecedented things have come my way, maybe just trying to survive each day and making the most out of it is a new year’s resolution in itself.