Background: I'm Still Here
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- Mga Parte 6
Ongoing8m
Huling na-publish Thu, Sep 25, 2025
They don't see me. They never have.
I'm the one in the corner. The one who gets cropped out of group photos. The one who's always there-but never really there. This is my story. Not the loud one. Not the glamorous one. But the real one.
In The Background Doesn't Mean I'm Not Here, I open the door to a world most people ignore-the quiet ache of being unseen, unloved, and unwanted. Through six soul-baring essays, I explore what it means to live life as the background character. The ghost in the room. The blur in the photo. The person people only notice when they need something.
But this isn't just about pain. It's about reclaiming space. About finding my voice when no one's listening. About learning that being overlooked doesn't mean I'm forgettable-and being unwanted doesn't mean I'm unworthy.
If you've ever felt invisible, this book sees you. And maybe, just maybe, it'll help you see yourself too.
All Rights Reserved
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Magugustuhan mo rin ang
THAT ONE NIGHT LOVE
It was just one night. One room. No promises. No confessions. Just two people- who should've walked away. But something about the way they looked at each other... The way silence held more meaning than words ever could... Made that night less of a mistake and more of a memory neither body could forget. Now, two years later, they're back. In the same city. Under different names. Carrying the same ache. She has someone new. He almost moved on. But love doesn't always announce itself- sometimes it just lingers. What happens when: - a closed room remembers what the world forced them to forget? - bodies touch again, but hearts hesitate harder? - one mug, one bed, one white shirt brings everything rushing back? "Unfinished things don't die. They wait. In bedrooms like this - with people like us." 🌙 A poetic, slow-burn Hinglish story. Of what was never said, what was never supposed to happen, and what still might - if they dare. Read if you like: ✨ Emotionally mature tension ✨ Silent glances louder than love letters ✨ Bedroom intimacy with poetic restraint ✨ Chapters that feel like old voice notes you never deleted 📌 New Chapters Every day 📍 Instagram + Wattpad Exclusives 💬 Comment "I've been there" if you've ever left a room and still felt touchedKumpleto
I Know
Every time I need to pour out those unsaid words, every time my heart needs to bleed....I take a deep breath and start writing. Each chapter here is a scream of my weeping heart. But there's no denying that these are the moments that made me who I am today. I have always admired writers who are not afraid to show the world their deepest insecurities. it intrigues me , the courage they have to be so vulnerable. But along the way I realized, that they can do so cause they have nothing more to lose. They have already lived their darkest nightmares. I wish to be courageous like them, I wish to connect with people with my words, I want them to know me by my words. And this book is my secret passage to that destination.Kumpleto
Trash Book of Extra.
Warning: I am a weirdo. This will contain some thoughts of mine, some poems, some deep shit, some thoughts I have as I go through the journey of self-exploration, lmao. Some chapters may be seen as too controversial but whatever you know. I mean, reading this is your choice. You don't have to. I mean, I'd like you all to read every chapter but it's not a story book so you may skip some chapters you don't like and read the ones that you do like. P.S. I do not deny that my thoughts are somewhat influenced by my environment and experiences. Also, this is the real me. Some people think I'm quiet and cold-hearted but on the inside I'm actually a big softie with feelings. To be honest, it's kinda my fault since I hate revealing my emotions to other people or even asking for help until I have to. And even then, I start hating myself for being such a weakling. That is a major character flaw of mine that I must overcome!Kumpleto
Not me. (2023)
so, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been so exhausted. I'm not better, I'm not sure if i ever will be, but I'm not numb, not entirely. I can't say how I'm feeling, or what i am going to write, but if you want it, it's here. This is for you. For everyone who was made to be the villain by those meant to be by their sides. For everyone with a sensitive heart made to grow strong much too quickly. For everyone who struggles to get out of bed in the morning. For everyone who never could find the words to say why. For everyone who struggles to feel and for everyone who feels too much. For everyone who had to pick themselves back up. For everyone who had to parent themselves. For everyone fighting an invisible battle. For everyone who has been underestimated. For everyone who has to flee to other worlds to cope. For everyone who found other means to silence their voices. For everyone who was silenced. For everyone who was over powered. For everyone who was made to be less. For everyone who had to watch someone else suffer and stay silent. For everyone asking themselves, why? Why would you do this? What did I do? Why is this happening to me? It was never your fault.Kumpleto
Blood in the Margins: a collection of different poems, unfinished potential
FINISHED AND COMPLEATED. Just poems, I suppose. Or maybe a scrapbook of scars. A chaotic collage of half-born stories, abandoned plots, and feelings too loud to ignore. This isn't a novel. It's a graveyard of unwritten books- stitched together with ink and impulse. A little trauma here, a little heartbreak there. Addiction. Bad parents. Dangerous love. The usual mess. I never claimed to be a poet, but pain has a way of teaching rhythm. And when the stories in my head refused to become chapters, they became verses instead. My father? A ghost in flesh. A man who cradled needles more tenderly than he ever held me. He is an addict. A lover of oblivion. And I, the daughter left behind in the smoke of his escape. Does that make me a girl with "daddy issues"? Or just a girl still learning how not to bleed from wounds she didn't choose? This book is for the overthinkers, the almost-authors, the ones who feel too much and write too little- until the words finally spill out like blood on the page. Welcome to the ride. There's no exit. But there's poetry in the wreckage. Author's Note I didn't set out to write a book. I set out to survive my own mind. This is what happens when you have too many stories, too many ghosts, and not enough discipline to finish a single novel. So instead, I wrote poems- or something like them. Fragments. Feelings. Flashbacks. A scrapbook of the soul. Some of these pieces are fiction. Some are memory. Some are just what happens when you stare at the ceiling too long and let your thoughts rot into poetry. If you've ever had a thousand ideas and no idea where to start- if you've ever felt too broken to write but too full not to- this is for you. Thanks for riding with me. There's no map. No neat ending. Just the wreckage, and the words we make from it.Kumpleto
The Room with No Corners
There is a moment before the dream begins where everything feels still. A breath held between worlds. In that moment, time doesn't move forward or backward-it waits. That's where I exist now. In the pause. In the static. I don't remember the exact day I started to vanish. Maybe it was slow. Maybe I was too quiet for the world to notice. They say the mind protects us from things we cannot bear. But what happens when the thing you're running from is yourself? Somewhere, there's a house that doesn't belong to any map. Its windows never reflect sunlight, and its walls curve so gently that you don't realize they're watching you. There's a girl in the mirror who looks like me, but she remembers things I don't. There's a bathtub filled with water so still it feels like a grave. There's a man I created-kind, warm, and perfectly not real. And there's a truth waiting at the end of the hallway. I'm afraid of it. But I think I've always known it. This story is not a confession. It's not a warning. It's just what happens when the silence gets too loud. And the corners begin to disappear.Kumpleto
healing is not linear - A Memoir by Frances Edelstein
FINAL VERSION NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0846QJQ86?ref=knfdg_R_twm_yes No one's life is perfect--and mine is no different. On the outside, you might see me as a young woman that was raised in the most perfect life; both parents, an upper-middle-class home, a safe neighborhood. This is all true, yes, but the worst of my struggles were things that many people didn't see: my mental health. In this book, I share all my struggles with my eating disorder, anxiety, depression, and the things that go along with it. My goal in writing this is letting you know that you, the reader, are never alone. There are people like me that care about you, that understand how hard it can be. Hopefully this book with give you clarity about some things you've been dealing with, and maybe give you some peace of mind and directions on how to navigate through these hard times. Please, keep fighting. We need you. Much love!Kumpleto
My friend, Demise
Every sound in my world is amplified due to the silence. Every footstep, every ticking clock in every classroom, every pen that clicks or drops to the floor, every little sharp sound is so loud in my head that it pisses me off. I also don't do well under pressure, but I'm always trying so hard to calm down that it puts me under even more pressure. I only know two emotions and have my whole life. I've only ever been those two. I don't get sad, I don't feel happy or exited. I'm either angry or unbearably lonely. I'm grade school, some kids thought I was the devil. I'm not. I'm just....I'm just different. So don't go around thinking I'm some kind of demon, okay?!Kumpleto
Mind of The Disordered- A Memoir (Completed)
When you're stuck inside a layer of skin you never asked for, what does the soul do? It cries out in poems and pictures, and words that have so much meaning to anyone if they look hard enough. It winces in pain every time the pen hits the paper and shouts in agony every time the mirror is reflected upon a burning face. This is a collection of me. My eating disorder, my depression, anxiety, my thoughts, my words, my pain. If you've ever wondered what it was like inside the mind of an anorexic, a bulimic, a chronically depressed woman, here is the answer. A memoir written by me. There is no specific order you should read this book. Choose a random chapter from the table of contents, and read. Take a little in, leave a little out. ****** There is a major trigger warning for almost every story in here. If you are sensitive to numbers, or ideas or anything of this matter, this book may not be for you.Kumpleto
Social Energy In A Busy World
[BOOK TWO OF PERSONALITY TYPE SERIES] You love people. You thrive on connection. Your energy lights up a room. But sometimes the world feels like it wasn't built for your kind of light. The long silences. The subtle messages to "dial it down." The quiet corners that seem to whisper, "Don't be so much." This book is your gentle (but firm) reminder: You're not too much. You're not too loud. You're just wired to shine in a world that sometimes forgets how to hold the brightness. Inside these pages, you'll find space to embrace your extroverted gifts-your warmth, your spark, your love of connection-and tools to help you care for your energy along the way. You'll learn how to: Recharge without guilt-even when the world says "rest later" Build deeper, more nourishing relationships Navigate overstimulation and emotional burnout Set boundaries that protect your joy and your peace Stay present without losing momentum Use your voice in a way that honors others and yourself Whether you've always known you were an extrovert or you're just beginning to reconnect with that part of yourself after a long stretch of quiet-you belong here. This is your invitation to shine boldly and live brightly, without apology. You don't need to turn your volume down to be heard. But you do deserve to listen to yourself, too.Kumpleto
It was just one night. One room. No promises. No confessions. Just two people- who should've walked away. But something about the way they looked at each other... The way silence held more meaning than words ever could... Made that night less of a mistake and more of a memory neither body could forget. Now, two years later, they're back. In the same city. Under different names. Carrying the same ache. She has someone new. He almost moved on. But love doesn't always announce itself- sometimes it just lingers. What happens when: - a closed room remembers what the world forced them to forget? - bodies touch again, but hearts hesitate harder? - one mug, one bed, one white shirt brings everything rushing back? "Unfinished things don't die. They wait. In bedrooms like this - with people like us." 🌙 A poetic, slow-burn Hinglish story. Of what was never said, what was never supposed to happen, and what still might - if they dare. Read if you like: ✨ Emotionally mature tension ✨ Silent glances louder than love letters ✨ Bedroom intimacy with poetic restraint ✨ Chapters that feel like old voice notes you never deleted 📌 New Chapters Every day 📍 Instagram + Wattpad Exclusives 💬 Comment "I've been there" if you've ever left a room and still felt touched
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