Our debts have been paid by Jesus, and our sins are forgiven.

So, who are we to withhold forgiveness from those who have wronged us? As Jesus taught, we should forgive not just seven times, but seventy-seven times—a testament to the boundless nature of grace and mercy.

We forgive even if forgiveness is never sought. We don’t forgive for redemption—we forgive because we, too, are sinners, imperfect human beings. Forgiveness is not something we do because it’s commanded of us; we forgive out of our own will, for our peace of mind.

Time doesn’t truly heal wounds—they remain, just as memories do, including the painful ones. Time doesn’t let us forget, but forgiveness allows us to find peace within ourselves. If others cannot forgive us, let it be. What matters is that, within our capacity and without expecting anything in return, we chose to forgive.

During Holy Week, fasting goes beyond physical discipline; it's a time to nourish the soul. Feed your spirit with calm and peace, with uplifting thoughts and moments of relaxation. Abstain from distractions, and devote yourself to prayer, seeking God’s guidance and protection.

By doing so, you strengthen your heart against the devil’s trickery and deception, ensuring you remain steadfast in faith and truth. It’s not just a period of sacrifice, but a meaningful journey of spiritual growth and renewal.

I have always wondered that when I speak up with whatever I feel right now, they seem too close-minded and never listen to what I say
They tend to make alibis or create reasons, criticize me badly.

But when I am silent, my silence speak for itself. They could easily understand my ****** reaction, my body language and how I am silent when they ask me.

I'm sorry if I failed as your daughter.
If I never lived up to your expectations.

At the very least, I graduated.
At least, I pushed through—I never dropped out, never skipped classes.
At least the recognition came before any award.
At least I didn’t get pregnant along the way.

But even then, I received no appreciation.

Were you proud that I made it this far?
Were you proud that, at the very least, I graduated?
You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m used to it—I trained myself not to react anymore.

But still, behind closed doors, I kept asking myself:
Were my efforts ever enough?
Did I ever make you feel satisfied or proud of what I did while I was still studying?

Did I make it—as your daughter?
Or just as a student of my alma mater?

I'm sorry if I failed as a sibling—
As your Ate.
I just got tired.
I'm only resting.

But that doesn't mean I'm weak.
I’m strong—because I know that all of this hardship, someday, will lead somewhere meaningful.

As your sister, you may have seen or heard me cry.
Just don’t mind me.
I’m just trying to let it all out—
Like a cloud, heavy with all the weight it’s been carrying.
I just need to feel the pain…
Until it finally numbs me.

You may have seen me in my most vulnerable moments.
But that’s okay.

It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to be seen in pain.
Because I am brave—
Brave enough to let others see my tears,
Brave enough to show the wounds I usually hide.

Why does everyone avert their gaze the moment our eyes meet? Do they sense something lurking within me—an inner demon, perhaps? Or is it that, in facing me, they realize I am neither saint nor devil, but something else entirely?  

I am a soul reborn, a human renewed. I turned away from deception, abandoned falsehoods, and embraced the truth. And maybe—just maybe—that priest saw it too.  

Did he sense a demon in our midst? Or was he standing before something far greater? He never flinched, never dodged our silent battle of wills. Perhaps, in my presence, he saw not darkness, but light so blinding it threatened to consume him—so brilliant it exposed the shadows within his own soul, leaving him unable to tolerate me at all.

Perhaps he forgot—forgot that I am, indeed, a being of duality. Light and dark, saint and sinner, fire and ice. But the difference between us?  

I chose the good side. 
Or maybe because when light enters a dark place, it forces a reaction. That explains it. When you look my way, I never hesitated for a second to look at you, straight into your eyes, looking for a loophole into your salvation or groundbreaking, then I smirk and you look away.
 
Why flinch? Why avoid my stares? Satan is among us, but it is not me you're looking at, maybe because he was what you were looking for, you heretic buffoon!

And maybe that’s what unsettled him. Not the presence of a demon, nor the radiance of divinity, but the sheer reality that I stand at the crossroads of both—aware, awake, and unwilling to be swallowed by the darkness he hides within himself.

You were so quick to judge last night,  
singling me out from the crowd,  
asking about my boyfriend’s faith—  
as if his beliefs could seal my fate.  

I said, "No, he’s not Catholic."  
And without a second thought,  
you declared my life in danger.  

So swift was your verdict,  
yet you never even asked what he believes.  
Tell me—are you certain I’m the one at risk?  
Or have you simply met your match?

Paramore says in their song "Ain't It Fun":  

"Don't go crying to your mama, 'cause you're on your own in the real world."

After all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Alone. Yes, alone.  

But why is it that when something bad happens, your mom suddenly gets angry AT US and we do not know what happened, then she attacks my mom; Yes, my mom, technically, is the sister of your mom—because you and your stories seem to get more and more exaggerated?

DO NOT EVER USE YOUR MOM ON YOUR ******* PERSONALITY, JUST TO LET HER DEFEND YOU OF YOUR ACCUSATIONS TO BREAK ME.

think again, foolish weakling! Before you broke me into pieces, there is nothing for you to break anymore. I have been broken long before you wished to.

You though breaking me makes me weak? (Baka ikaw, lampa na nga sira pa ang mata, tch.) Nah. It made me stronger, FYI.

No offense, accuse me because I go for blow. I insult you in return.
  
I'LL CLAP BACK FOR A RESOUNDING APPLAUSE YOU DESERVE, "ILABAS ANG GAWAD URIAN" FOR THE FILM YOU MADE FOR ME.

Who am I to not forgive you, right? I could—but that doesn’t mean I can still accept you. The damage has already been done. You made your choice, and so did I.  

Don’t expect things to go back to the way they were after everything that happened. Don’t forget—it was you who started this. You chose to believe your son without even listening to us. We had proof.

I had proof. But he had nothing—no evidence to prove that I did what he accused me of.  

My trust is gone. You had your doubts, and I had mine. I can forgive you, but don’t come back.

I have always wanted to be a liar.
But I was a bad liar.
I was very bad at it.
So I never comfort him with lies
But instead, I chose to hurt him with the truth.
And that is quite fair, right?
If you lie to me despite of me being truthful to you,
I felt like a bad guy in this situation.
But still, my parents still see me as a liar
Even after all this time, even I tried my best not to lie
Still, I was seen as a liar.

unlimited talks, adding or subtracting words

ooh, do you know what you are
what I saw in you
You felt like the cockroach of the sea—oh no!
You are the cockroach of the land—black, white or brown
I might be ready to squish or stomp you up, but still, whatever I do, it still keeps you alive, awake, kicking and enthusiastic

But truly sweetie, what defines you? A disgrace to the community—and that mouth of yours is a disgrace to my family as well

Let's save these dramas for ourselves now, shall we?
The worst is yet to come
I'm not done yet, the show is not yet over
I'm just warming up, I might go over next for the exciting part

You made me hate you—despite that, I pity you!
For all the cries and the untold stories
I pity you, not for your experience—but for how pathetic you are to gain or earn my trust
I helped you, listened to your pleas
But this is all you gave me in return

Your presence, existence—is nothing but a social scourge
An epidemic, an illness, a pest, an addiction, that even any medicine to cure cannot prevent it
There is no such thing as a remedy for an incurable disease like yours—An addiction you bring is never tolerated

That even your efforts and intentions are even questionable
Maybe you were a broken record—repeating lies and spitting spew into me
Well, I breathe in and out the fire of the level of your innocence

Well *****, don't look down, I am not there
Look up, heads up now, front and center
Look into my eyes, let me see your sincerity

Maybe you forgot, even if you keep denying it
The truth is always there, ready to be found when I am effortlessly not looking for it

Let's establish some rules, yes
For this staring game, I am all in
Lay all the cards on me, deck it now and let me tell you your future
Time will tell, yes, along with it, comes your fate
A shadowy figure, holds its scythe and wears a black hoodie while its hood is covering its face is now pointing you
It says to be a grim reaper, your time is up, old lady
Pity or not, you will experience an awful hell of a death

But, I don't want to scare you or burst your bubble
God sees the truth, but waits because He knows when to attack

I keep silent, revenge is for Him to do and not mine
I might forgive you, for my peace of mind
I might forget you, I hope so
But never what you did to me

It caused me hurt and pain, wounded scars of my unforgettable battles never won
It caused me trauma—got mistaken for something I never did

Labelled me as a thief, what else can you give me? Is that all?
Give me your best shot—bang me with the problems and issues you cannot handle well
Well, I handled worse

Reveal to me the ***** linens of my past—I am no longer afraid
God knows me well, dear—but you don't
God knows me and my whole life well—you just saw my life in highlights,  reels and teasers but never my whole story
I got used to it by now, I dealt with things on my own
Faced my demons and ***** on my own
Is there anything I cannot handle well? Even If I look at myself in the mirror, I saw my brave reflection who is now courageous enough to face the imperfect world

Oh pity! How about you? Your experience is much more pitiful than mine
So, you keep exposing my ***** linens, well, don't worry about it, let me expose yours too
Too sad, you married a narcissistic man, you are such a weakling when both of you ran into an argument
But oh boy, you loved the thrill when we have a feud, right?
You had an introvert ******-up son with his ****** girlfriend with mommy issues
A social climber, a leech to **** off your wealth
Oops, you are not even wealthy, right? Your American husband is only the one  supporting your ******* in life, right?
Don't make me push the buttons too much to expose your *****
So that you can still redeem your head, when you walk to town.
Your opinions of me are invalid, only God's criticisms are valid

I chose to walk away, white flag is waving now
But honey, I learned—to choose my battles and you are not one of it
Never worth it.