There are pieces of me that live in songs. Scarred lyrics and sound that take me to a very specific place and time.


While I am the type of girl who forgets her house keys, forgets to lock her door, and forgets her passwords even if her life depended on it; I am also the one who remembers the scent, the chill, the je ne sais quoi.

This particular song is in Rizal.

I was outside, warming a bamboo chair. Nipa blocked the what could be a blanket of stars. It was quiet. It was just the two of us in the world.

I remember how young me would get jealous of the things she liked–even more, loved. I was selfish. I wanted all her attention. I wanted it all.

When she told me about Florence and the Machine, I didn’t even give it a chance. I was jealous. Looking back, she probably thought I didn’t care about her interests. If only she knew how much I had weighed them. If only she knew how much I had brought myself up into an irrational competition between her passions and me. I was so young and naive. If only knew.

That night, we talked about how magical it would be to watch F+M perform live because of the way their songs are arranged. We pictured a full orchestra and a grand auditorium. She went into detail on the instruments and the lyrics. I went into detail on us sharing things together.

Together was the tipping point in every vision. We wanted to be together. We needed more togetherness. We were both young and uncapable, but boy were we willing.

My memory might be twisted, but as I listen and allow the song to transport me, I feel it strongly in my gut that in that moment, I knew I wanted to marry her. It was one of those rare moments when you just know.

She was my best friend and I loved her entirely, and had loved her with my entirety. Remembering that humbles me. I feel blessed to have had the chance–even if we both eventually carelessly betrayed our mountain promises.

How beautiful is it to know how much you lived and loved. It’s everywhere, when the music plays. If only I were better at keeping things, I know I can picture her smile. I know if I try hard enough, I will hear her laugh… to me, that is beautiful.

There are pieces of me that fly with the wind. It’s up to me to let them go to roam or be found. It’s up to you to let me be to create or become anew.



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