You can skip this whole thing and just read my note at the end to get to the point. LOL I warned you.


My life used to be a fairytale. I had everything; the love, the attention, the money. I was fortunate; I had the beauty, the brain and the body. I was beyond perfection.

My parents were great. They were perfect. My mom was the best mom in the world, and so my dad. They work hard for my future; a future I think I will never have. But no matter how busy they were they still have time for me. We always used to eat breakfast and dinner together. Their work wasn’t an excuse for not attending any said activities in my school. When I was a child, mom used to read me stories during bed time. And I wasn’t even in third grade when Dad taught me how to play the piano. I am now a seventeen year old girl, and will always be stuck in this state. I could also play three instruments; piano, guitar, and drums. They were talented, they taught me how to sing and dance.

“You’re perfect!” every relatives I’ve known would say every time they hear me sing or dance, even seeing my writings and hearing me play the piano make them so proud of me.

My parents raised me with etiquette. They were the reason why I am here. They would always say “We love you our dearest princess, we always will, don’t ever forget that.” But I did. I had their love. They were the parents that everyone would wish for. I couldn’t ask for more. Yes, I couldn’t ask for more but it doesn’t mean I could never remiss.

School was the second best thing. I had everyone’s attention. I had lot of friends. I was popular. I always used to be the class president and I was a valedictorian back on my elementary year. But my life is now wasted.

My friends were awesome. But only Jess and Fey were the best. They were my partners in crime; my best buddies. We always used to hang out together ever since our childhood. Our parents were business partners, friends even. We were like sisters, like blood related—until that night.

We were tight, nothing or no one could destroy us—not new friends or new acquaintances and especially not boys. But she broke my trust.

And being popular meant many admirers. But only Peter David caught my attention. He’s a basketball player, popular just like me. But he didn’t brag and what I liked about him the most was that he’s got the brains. He’s a nice guy, a good son and responsible student. He was 5’9 in height, too tall compared to my 5’2 ft. He was ideal; the kind of guy that every girl has been looking for. But sorry because he was mine, I was his and he was my Lucas Ross. And this kind of relationship would work; forever. There’s no room for a third party.

My parents were hard working and as the only child, money has never been a problem to me. I used to get everything I wanted—new clothes, new gadgets, everything. I was a princess. But nothing is constant and life wasn’t really a fairytale. It wasn’t perfect—not even close. I wasn’t a princess and my life changed in an instant—everything changed in just a day.

I found the perfect Christmas gift for Pete yesterday when me and my parents went shopping. It was a shirt. Actually it’s a match shirt made just for couples. The shirt was printed with “I was born to love her” with an arrow sign pointing to the left. And the other one was printed with “I was born to love him” with an arrow sign that was averse to the other arrow. It was so cute, just thinking that we’re both wearing it made me blushed. Would it match our fair complexion? I hope it would because its color was mint green and we love light colors.

It was eight in the evening, four hours before the Noche Buena. I decide to visit Pete, to give my present so he could open it at exactly twelve midnight. But I was so shocked with what I saw. I was wishing that I was just having a bad dream but I wasn’t. And it was like a nightmare, a worst nightmare that tore me apart. Please someone wake me up!

I was almost near to David’s when I saw Pete outside their house with someone. I couldn’t see them clear because it was dim. I could just see their silhouettes but I was certain it was Pete, though I wasn’t sure about the girl because she had her back on me. He was kissing her, not a simple kiss. It was passionate. His hands were on her waist, like hugging her, pulling her close to him. And her hands were on his neck. It was so sweet. Tears began to fell. I moved closer, so I could see their faces clearly. They broke the kiss just after they saw me.

“Ehn, let me explain” Pete begged.

“No. I’m not taking any explanation, this is enough. We’re over.”

I was crying but surprisingly calm. I was beginning to walk away when Jess caught my arm.

“I’m sorry, I really am. We’re planning—” I broke her in mid sentence with a slap. I saw her sincerity but it wouldn’t change a thing and I couldn’t help myself. She betrayed me; they betrayed me. I slapped her not because of anger because I wasn’t mad I just feel like doing it, because I was hurt—badly hurt.

“Planning on what? Telling me? It sure looks like it! Oh yeah, you’ll tell me after you two knock each other up??” They were tongue-tied. “Let go of me,” I said and Jess broke her grip from my arm.

I ran

Of all people, Jessie Anderson, my best buddy, my sister-like friend, betrayed me. And Peter David was just like any other guy out there. Jerk.

Life was nothing but hell because of them. I arrived at home feeling so exhausted because of the run, drenched with sweat though it was cold. It’s already ten in the evening. I noticed that the house was empty.

“Mom? Dad?” I called. No answer. I wonder where my parents were. I headed to my room; mourning. I lost my prince, the guy that I loved so much. I just lost one of the best friends I ever had. Betrayal hurts so badly.

It seemed that I fell asleep, and then I heard murmurs from the other room. I put my left ear to the wall and listened intently.

“She’s no longer a child, we must tell her now.” I heard Dad said.

“No.” Mom said stubbornly.

“But Emma, she would understand.” Dad insisted.

“No. it would break her heart. We’ll keep this forever.” Mom started to cry.

I was getting it. I had a good instinct with everything. But still, I want to hear it myself. So I ran to the other room.

“She needs to know.” Dad was persistent.

“What is it that I need to know?” I was almost shouting. I wanted to know, no matter how painful it could be. Mom was silent while Dad hesitated, but he spoke anyway.

“17 years ago, it was spring, when someone rung the bell.” Dad paused, thinking whether he’s doing the right thing or not. I was fighting back my tears. Dad proceeded “But we found no one but a baby, a new born baby—a month old or so. She was crying but still, she was so cute. Since we didn’t and couldn’t have a child, we took her and thought that she was a gift from God. We accepted you Ehn, as our own. We loved you like any other parents would do and even better we never treated you as—”

“I’m not yours? I’m not your daughter? All these years you kept it from me?” I sobbed.

“We’re sorry dear,” mom cried.

“Enough! You lied! You two lied to me!” I shouted. I started to run.

“Where do you think you’re going Ehn?” Dad was angry. I could tell. I ignored him. Huh?! Of all three of us, I was the one who has the right to get mad but I wasn’t even angry at them, I was just having a bad Christmas and I was torn. I needed some time alone. They kept it from me for seventeen years, I couldn’t believe this. I wasn’t their daughter? I was nothing but a trash—left by my irresponsible biological parents. So the truth was that I didn’t deserve any of this? This luxurious life? I kept on running but I wasn’t sure where to go. I was far from the house when the clock ticked twelve.

“A mournful Christmas.” I whispered to myself, weeping. I was in the middle of nowhere and it started to snow. I didn’t have any place to go. I just lost a family and a home.

Life wasn’t, isn’t, and will never be fair. What have I done wrong to deserve things like this?

First, I caught my best friend and my boyfriend kissing each other passionately—which cuts like a knife. Second, I found out that Emma and Abraham Reen weren’t my real parents.—such a good fate. I cried myself to sleep in the middle of this cold Christmas dawn.

Morning came, I didn’t know how I managed to sleep in this place, plus it was cold but I did anyway. Remembering those things that had happened last night gave me a pang of guilt.

I shouldn’t have left our house, I was sure that that act broke my parents’ heart. I could still remember the pain and sorrow in their eyes when I ran away from them. I didn’t care about Jess and Pete at the moment; my parents are and will always be my major concern.

They were right; they loved me as their own. They never treated me as someone else but as their own daughter. I owe them for everything and so I decided to go home. I smiled for my resolution but it was too late. I was too late.

My parents died on a car accident while looking for me last night. My parents, who treated and loved me as their own, the reason why I had a perfect life. Mom and Dad, the two best people in the world, the best thing that ever happen to me, were gone. They died without even knowing how much I loved and cared for them and I wasn’t even mad. I was just shocked with what had turned to be the truth. Of all people, I—whom they loved and cared about so much—killed them. I, their unica hija, was responsible for their death. Just remembering our days together as a happy family made me despise myself more. I shouldn’t have turned my back on them. I’m drowning with guilt. I am a shame.

I am now alone, full of regrets. I was left with nothing but my torn self in this miserable world. Yes, I am a loathsome creature. And I deserve this. If I could only turn back the time, I would. But I couldn’t and no one could. And now, I don’t have the courage to face anyone or anything.

Except death.


Teenage angst. Badly written. So cringey. This was me attempting to write a story  8 years ago. It’s so bad!!

Now, you might be wondering why I shared it if I think it is that bad?

I’ve been reading and drowning in aus that I felt a flick of fire inside me. I’ve always wanted to be a writer; to publish a book. Not poetry book, though. An actual novel.

I used to write in different writing platforms over the years. This piece was my entry for a writing competition in the Twilight Saga website. (Can you believe that won? lmao) At the time, I think it was an okay story. Reading it now, I’m kind of frustrated. I mean, were those my ideals? Am I that melodramatic? Oh, my. It’s not even creative. This is too much! Maybe the only thing I like about it was the last part.

Anyway, the group was called Writing R Us. I’ve made a lot of friends there and I still wonder how they are now. Yes, I was such a TwiHard and you can’t judge me for it. LOL The group was turned down along with the others that were not connected to Twilight. It was a good community! I used “vinks” as a pen name before. When my college friends found out, they started calling me that up until now.

But Creative Writing is just as hard as technical writing. I don’t think I have something special in me. And no, I am not being negative. I know my capabilities. HAHAHAHA! I’ve always loved poetry as well so maybe that’s why I kind of resort to that than story writing. When I write poems, words just flow naturally. I think that’s how I was convinced I was not meant to write novels.

So as I was saying, I am reading this au and I really really admire the writer. She has a good flow. It is very unusual of me to stop reading just because a sentence or a paragraph caught me off guard. I am more into the story. But her. Ugh. So great.

It’s one thing to have something quotable in a piece, but some of hers were not even quote-worthy. It’s the flow. I mean, look:

“Loneliness is a mass of dark shadows, looming and taunting, childhood monsters he never grew out of. He will continue to cling onto the first spark of light Seokjin gave him, terrified to let it blow out and plunge him back into darkness.”



HAHAHAHAHAHAHA That’s how I react to it. Mel would not shut up about it so I asked for the link and read for myself. It’s her fault. I didn’t even feel sorry bombarding her with my *squeals* messages from midnight to dawn. Again, it’s her fault.





“Their time together passes too quickly, hours melting into minutes, slipping through Yoongi’s fingers.”

Haist. It’s really good. I aspire to write something this good. I am actually thinking of giving story writing another try. Maybe. Not.




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