yoursexyeli_012

Some nightmares are meant to be a trauma. For some, it's a plot for a short horror story.
          	
          	I have them as both.

yoursexyeli_012

Weird how Father's day is just minutes away, and yet here I am, blabbering about mothers like I was raised by one.
          
          Well...this isn't just for one but for many. For the reader's mothers, for the mothers who reads this, and for those who lost theirs. You are wonderful and amazingly made. You are seen and enough. Your existence is something to be yearned from and your absence is something to be feared of. You are loved.
          
          Two of my latest updates under the book of poems, "The Contents of my Heart" is for all mothers who loved us more than they did for themselves. You are understood and seen in my inks. Through my writings, you are heard and will never be forgotten.
          
          
          Readers, enjoy "Pisteng Telepono" and "Para Kay Kamatayan" ;))
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/301788739?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=yoursexyeli_012

yoursexyeli_012

Looking at my phone, staring at the number of reads yet again--not the same number I did boast not even a week ago.
          
          I breathed silenty and heavily at the same time,
          To ask that book of poems I know I poured my soul into,
          
          "Who reads you?"
          
          Readers, you don't even know my name, what my face looked like, if I'm a man or a woman--an old person or a child left unattended with a phone.
          
          You don't even know who I am.
          
          Yet you root for me. Atleast, that's what I felt whenever you read what I wrote. Some perspectives of ours don't align, some words don't match and I know, some of you don't see, believe, nor felt the same as I do. 
          
          But I'm grateful because you still did open and read the book. You tried to understand before putting it down. I also appreciate those who kept the book they picked up, even putting it in their libraries. haha. 
          
          Just what did you see in me?
          
          They say being writer is just like standing in front of the crowd, naked. Now, I know what it meant. 
          
          You knew nothing and also everything about me. You saw parts I've hidden in real life, and also a glimpse of who I am in reality.
          
          You don't even know what these fingers and hands that written all those words looked like. Yet you knew, which people broke my soul, which person, which living thing ever imprinted their lives into me.
           
          - Eli

yoursexyeli_012

As a writer who have written such beautiful and flowery words for as long as I can remember, I don't know how to properly express my gratitude and love towards you, my readers. I do. 
            
            I do love you.
            
            But I'm afraid no word could properly and perfectly convey my appreciation and love. I'm afraid words wouldn't even be enough. Groups of letters that form phrases and sentences could fall short and even one word won't mean much.
            
            Just know that I'll be here as much as you are for me. I'll be the moon that fades and remains unseen, but the brightest to come forward and offer you an embrace in a form of mere poems, shorts stories, and prose. Hoping one stanza, paragraphs, even pieces of mine would resemble your reflection when the darkest of nights come. I'll always be here.
            
            You are not alone, you are seen, you are understood.
            
            You are loved.
            
            You are one of the reasons I write.
            
            - Eli
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yoursexyeli_012

I don't even know why am I getting ever sentimental at 3:51am at Saturday. Maybe I'm grateful. Maybe I'm reminded that I exist. Maybe I feel appreciated...well, I do.
            
            It's not even a week yet that's passed after I made that post saying I can't believe I gained reads while being on hiatus. Six whole months of being silent gave me 400 still. And now, from Monday to Saturday morning (which is now), I gained another hundred.
            
            Why do you read me?
            
            I'll always fill my ink until you no longer wish to read. And even if the world gets dark and your vision would stop you from doing so, I'll reread you my pieces...or maybe I could listen to some of your parts too.
            
            
            Thank you for understanding my soul.
            
            - Eli
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