A Woman and Her Power
Women, in any sort, interest me most.
All my life I have been reading about women, their prowess, and their standing in the society through the years. When I was young and still wasn't that knowledgeable about women, I tended to dedicate my time on reading about them. Questioning how did the toxic inferiority between women and men happened, Why women weren't given equality, rights, and enough opportunities years ago? Why women back then considered as weak?
There were times I shed tears how unfair society is for their unequal treatment. How horrible to see and to know that there are women in many countries that are still suffering from gender inequality up until now. Women who are discriminated for being a woman. Women that were imprisoned differently with toxic beliefs, misogynistic culture and ironically, absurd religion.
As a woman myself, reading about the history of women and their fight of liberation was not easy. Especially when I found out theories about witches who were burn centuries ago that they were normal woman who just know things, who just happened to be extraordinarily beautiful, who just happened to knew their rights and fought for their freedom.
Good thing, as the years progressed, albeit the gender stereotyping did not stop, there were changes that favored women. In different countries born were various of women's movement for freedom, rights and equality.
When did you begin to see attitudes towards women changing in your life, and what do you think prompted those changes? Please give some examples.
Through years, the world has been in the phase of accepting women. The once toxic conservativity was replaced slowly by a progressive change opening opportunities and freedom for us.
Women have the potential and they are tough us diamonds as they are. They were hidden gems, secretly flourished that were needed to be praised, respected. They deserved to be seen and to be recognized by the world not as a mere token but an individual. Hence, women in history that made history proved that.
The once job standard gradually worn off, and more women are now on jobs that were dominated previously by men. Women can now associate with politics, rule a country and not just vote. A small progress is a big progress as well for the women in the Middle East for allowing them to drive, and to do things they were not allowed to do so before.
It is fortunate somehow to be born here in the Philippines because the society has long ago started grasping the importance of women.
Even though there are still occurrences that there are others who become bias in judgement about women just like this 2022 election when the vice president of the Philippines (women) ran for presidency and regardless of her great credentials, clear record and high qualification for the position was bashed, received backlashes, and discriminated because she was a woman in opposed to the son of a dictator who as well running for presidency that time. However, there are still those woke enough and are much educated that I am beyond proud of.
The women here are empowered and fearless. They know how to fight, they are full of courage, and are not afraid to correct what have been done wrong. These are all thanks to our National and local heroines who became the eye opener of our country for fighting for our country's freedom alongside soldiers in the past centuries.
The continuous education about gender equality around the world made a great impact for these woman empowerment to happen. Just like the women of the previous generations for standing up and speaking.
Different programs, sports, and events are now dissipating stereotypical norms in result to the constant women movements. Such as major pageants for letting transgenders to join pageants, and the newest new that the Miss Universe are reportedly to begin allowing mothers and married woman to join on the pageant.
Miss Universe Organization Reportedly to Begin Allowing Mothers and Married Women to Compete
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Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm, otaku, music enthusiast and a grade 12 student with an undying passion on everything I do. Thank you so much for reading!
Making a Poetry Book For Him
It was first time making a poetry book, and making something full of love and passion.
Today's blog is different as I am going to share for the first time about having a "special someone".
I had my four months preparation of making a poetry collection for Him. Back in April when we casually talked about birthdays, a thought suddenly popped in my mind: a gift for him that he will surely remember.
I further thought of something I could give him that would cost less because I am still a student and I don't have enough money. Therefore, as I was holding a book I was reading that time, the idea rushed in: I will make a poetry book for him.
Poetry hits different, the passion it radiates, the deep and meaning it gives. Poetry is a window to your soul and heart, and it clearly express feelings despite how the words are played and fashioned.
Furthermore, I relate my whole life in a poetry. I was a living poetry myself, thus, the four months were dedicated into planning, writing, and layouts for my planned book.
On making, I made sure that I would not rush it writing. My goal was to write everything with love and passion so that the outcome as he will read would be full of feelings as well.
The title "August Archives" was from the nickname I gave to him as "August" because it was his birth month, and based solely to my favourite song of Taylor Swift entitled August as well.
I divided the book into two parts specifically for proses and poetries, the title "Uno" for part 1 and the title "Dos" for part 2 were symbolisms that if the reader will combine Uno and Dos (1 & 2) a number 12 will come up: our special number and day.
I would like to share to you all a preview and some excerpts from my book. Surely there will be others who will call me cheesy or corny or cringe but I wouldn't be bothered because I made this out of my confidence and love for writing.
Preview:
To Live Life with a Purpose
I want to live life with a purpose,
and so I ended up wanting to be that someone I would love.
I want to live life with a purpose,
and so I ended up again, wanting to be that someone the world needs.
I want to live life with a purpose,
and so I ended up for the last time, wanting to be that someone my family wants me to be.
Torn to thirds: I never thought wanting to live a life with purpose would be a challenge.
I still have a year to think thorough. But in the wasted days I assisted myself into thinking, I always ended up with the thought to be practical on pushing a course I would pursue. Because after all this is the Philippines, admit it or not, is still a taboo, ignorant, and has low job opportunities.
If I were a child now, I would be aiming to dream high. Dreaming to have a Degree on Fine Arts would be the biggest. However, I needed to be practical, pursuing Fine Arts would be risky, too risky... in many ways. I could not afford taking risk without calculating how high the fall.
I am toughened through years and dreaming high, I realized, is absurd. A kind of shallow aiming only for kids. Hence, I started to think further. I started dreaming deep for a future with a purpose, one that could help people, one that could benefit the world and not just myself.
So, I aspire to pursue Medicine. It is in this way that I see myself has a purpose to help others. I was good in science, I am my best self with science. A curious kid always been, now a curious lady still.
However, with science having a lot of branches, as usual I had my troubles. This is the worst part of me up until now I could not erase easily, a lifetime hindrance: being indecisive. I had trouble what field of Science I have to focus myself. What specifics I would study: Astronomy or Medicine.
I first thought of Astronomy, after all, it has been my childhood dream to become an Astronaut. It was a childhood dream I never intended to let go. Who wouldn't be fascinated with the universe's wonder and mystery? As a kid, I always wanted to go to the outer space, or to seek answers for the questions the universe left to us. But then, as I grew older I realized we couldn't afford to send me into a school whereas I could be able to reach my first love, my first dream. I realized as well that maybe it wasn't really for me, maybe in an alternate universe I will become a great astronaut and a scientist, and I would love myself for that. But, here in this lifetime, I guess that the universe is readying me for something—all I need to do is to seek an answer once more.
Meanwhile, Medicine was an outcome of my "dreaming deep", I needed a purpose, and I found a purpose in Medicine. Medicine is again vast. And once again I was torn with options—options I love, options that are need to be excluded later on.
I am interested on helping stray animals because whenever I see one abandoned it's like crushing my heart into pieces that I will begin to shed tears out of pity for that poor thing. Being a Veterinarian would be for a greater cause, I want to be a public Veterinarian if given the chance to help stray animals in many ways for free.
On the other hand, Psychology is on my top list. Everything around me is in the state of taboo, even the word psychology is a taboo for most people here in my place. Therefore, I want to break the stigma whereas people with mental illness can FREELY ask for help and guidance. I want to give awareness so that people with mental issues can be easily understood by the people around. I also want to have a free clinic for those who cannot afford expensive check-ups.
However, any of these two requires a lot of expenses, the reason why I am torn to decide is because of the lack of job opportunities here in the Philippines. I as well have been discriminated with these choices, they said "walang kang mapapala sa mga iyan, wag na lang," or "you wouldn't gain anything from it, don't bother trying". But regardless with those discrimination I get from people who are ironically my relatives, I keep on dreaming still, moving forward to find my calling.
Lastly, I want to be a nurse. But, truth to tell, I had my hesitations before when I think of myself pursuing Nursing. It has not been my first love, it WAS my family who suggested it to me because it is on-demand, and because of the job opportunities whether local or abroad. It required months of thinking before I finally started to consider it and studied about how things work in Nursing. I then love it for the following days and months of getting it to know. It is what matters most, loving a course, becoming it as a dream course, dreaming deep with that course, and a course who will give a purpose.
I seek for a call, or maybe I already found out what is for me, I just need to decide and stand for myself and for what I want to be.
I will not rush, but I will make my future better.
Thus, I want this to be my calling, to help prolong a life. And I think, all I need to find out is to which specific my calling is. On what ways and how.
I also realized that to be able to balance my passion and profession, all I need is to be passionate as well with the course I will pursue. In addition to that, I can still write, draw, paint, sing, or dance while pursuing my chosen course, as a hobby, as a work, as a breather.
Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
*An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 12 student with an undying passion for writing and art.*
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photo used from Pixabay
Accepting Criticisms
How does a 17 year old girl handle corrections or criticism?
Growing up in an asian family, criticisms and corrections are like your coffee every morning. If it is not in a daily basis—it happens oftentimes. It could be sweet and mild sometimes, but it could be the same as bitter as that black coffee, with an aftertaste that will keep you anxious and awake.
Corrections are fuels for my system to keep at pace and working. And in my 17 years of existence, these keep me on striving to be better to correct all the things I do that are either not enough or wrong.
I accept corrections wholeheartedly: the more one can recommend or suggest things that would my life better, the better. Even if sometimes corrections could be fatal and blunt, accepting and reflecting on it would not cost you and make you less of a person.
I believe that being not egocentric would help a lot for an individual's growth.
Criticisms, on the other hand, have two types. So, I behave accordingly on the two.
Constructive criticisms helped me to improve as a writer, a student, and molded me to a fine woman in general.
I would genuinely accept those and reflect. Because we all need criticisms to help us see ourselves and the things we are making.
Meanwhile, destructive criticisms are different. Everything explains from the word itself. In my perspective, violence do not solve anything, it only worsen things. I get their reasons, "to wake them up with harsh truth and to make them work better", but I do not understand people giving destructive criticisms to one when being nice would not hurt. We all feel differently, but we feel hurt and get discourage all the same.
And for me, for my 17 years in an asian household, destructive criticisms ironically came from the mouth of those whom you called "relatives" and could be sometimes from the "family". It is just that the more they threw destructive ones, the high I build my walls.
The perspective is a compass and an ally when it comes to criticisms and corrections, the more you accept, the more you show courage, tough you are to do not let the negative pull you down, and positive you are on things—the stronger you get to keep going and the better you will be.
Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
*An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.*
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Oh, To Be a Poor
***Poverty is hard in many ways.*** It forces you to be in the most complex situations you would start to question life and doubt what does your future prepares.
In addition, people who lived in poverty couldn't be blamed for having a life lived that way, neither tell them over-positively that they should keep the hard work. Because there are those people who are in lower class who spent their entire lives working (in farms, public, construction), overworking but still stuck due to the lesser job opportunities, little salary, and some failure on the government units.
There is really nothing to be grateful of experiencing poverty at all. Aside from it limits you in life, it also complicates everything in your life and everything that surrounds like a non-stop domino effect.
However, there is something to be grateful for,
Albeit poverty might be difficult, it ironically has its "helpful effects" despite of its negative aspects.
It allows you to see things differently
You'll relate. You'll be aware. You'll know that life isn't linear. (Bitterly, sometimes if everything gets too familiar you'll even start to doubt that life has been on circular motion at all.) Anyway, the point is that you will see things differently and would start to think vast and out of the box. Practically: you would start to see the value of a one penny. Practically: you would start to realize how a spoonful food could sustain a life. Practically: your guts would be tested to choose the things you need most over the things you love.
It practices you survival
Experiencing poverty is a lifetime battle for survival. Hunger games exist—it is a constant struggle for those unfortunate to find money and sustain daily needs. Mental instability exists—and sadly, it's a taboo for unfortunate people to categorize themselves with depression and stress. Although, there are struggles that became generational crisis traits, there have been struggles that were accordingly dealt and have positive effects such as striving to move forward in order to have a bright future, and the quality of endurance to persevere in life.
It trains you to be grateful, humble your attitude, and appreciate little things.
Because perspective controls what you behave, the positive you view things despite how dark the world could be, the easier a hard situation could get. It is in the same manner that if you know how to appreciate and be contented on even the little things you got.
Although sometimes perspectives don't really make bigger changes in one's life, it can still help in a way to color oneself in times when the darkness begans to start unbearable.
Sure, life is a teacher, but poverty would teach you what life truly is in the most unexpected worse ways.
It makes a person stronger to a large extent a fortunate and a privileged one is not. It made me. Yes, I also ask how would it feels like living a life where you can easily get what you want, where you are not limited to your dreams and to what you aspire. But, being poor doesn't mean I am not rich, there are still these rich ones who are poor. Even if I am used living in a hard way, I never limit myself to feel happy, to know what is to be loved unconditionally without asking anything in exchange.
Renésmee Neverfound
Photos used from Pixabay!
To Know Nothing About Your Calling
**I can't hear it**, nor feel the sound waves that supposed to tingle my skin like having goosebumps when witnessing a kind deed. The more I search for the call the more noisy the sound becomes.
**I can't grasp** any of its thread. It keeps slipping away and away. The further I try to get hold, the faster it escapes out of my reach.
**I can't see** what it looks like. My vision, unsure and unclear, the vision, unclear and unsure. The more intent and closer I do to find it the blurrier it gets.
All I know is that the world is on axis yet, I am spinning in circles:
I can't hear my calling, reach my calling, and see my calling. Despite of the dreamer I have been, despite how persevere I became.
I constantly ask myself what does my future holds? When everything feels like... *feels like nothing after all the dreams.*
What's wrong? What's wrong with me?
I have been a dreamer who loves to not just dream but also loves to do if not all things— do what I am able to do. I loved to wonder... and so wondered what my future will be.
It was me who found ways to learn and study various things of my interest and made sure what aimed and aspired would result to improvements and knowledge.
I do not falter as long as I have a dream.
However despite everything I do, I still do not know my calling.
I know that growing up requires a different dream. A solid, concrete dream. I expected it already that that dreaming isn't just all about happy thoughts. I was ready of how hard could it be when fate conspires ways I am maybe prepared but could not do anything about.
***I have always been a fighter.***
I was ready to be a dreamer that will practice to dream and love dreams I would know sooner will complicate my decision-making.
***I will find ways.***
I was ready for my dreams that I dearly hold to become dreams I would need to give up.
***I am ready.***
Ready for my sacrificial dreams I could not do anything but to let go, choosing practicalities over those.
I have always been ready for my dreams that will become in vain because I am not privileged for it. Dreams in vain because it is too far and hard to reach despite of how eager I am to persevere.
***I keep moving forward.***
But,
What is this confusion?
Or is this a ready-made sadness?
Is this my dissatisfaction and disappointment?
I still have many ways to walk and could have endless possibilities.
I make my destination.
I want to be a dreamer who could find her calling, in that way I would be worthy to live.
But, why it is so hard for me to realize what my calling despite all the choices I have? Ironic how I dreamt different dreams but I still do not know what would I decide myself to become.
***Maybe it takes time, I should not rush.***
I wonder for the last time what does my future holds?
I will gladly be ready to go with the flow and will be ready to take the fall.
But, what if I have no future at all?
Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
*An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm, otaku, music enthusiast and a grade 12 student with an undying passion on everything I do. Thank you so much for reading!*
*Photo used from Pixabay.*
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Hive PeakD: have you heard of it?
Time flew faster when you are grateful and everything seems to be fine as a wine. I couldn't believe that I am almost in my 8th month on Hive PeakD already.
So,friends here in read cash, I hope it's just fine to share with you all my story on how I became a crypto-writer.
Improvements and opportunities have knocked on my doorstep these past days. Especially when one of the founders and a pillar of Hive followed my account. And as for myself, I treat it as a milestone and a challenge to write better there with sense and value.
A recap: December 8th was when I published my first ever article and introductory post that I never expected to blow-up and to touch many hearts. Entitled "A Loner's Weep", it was a prose-poetry I made in one sitting about my personal experiences and hobbies. My main motto when I wrote it back then was to write to touch the heart of many. So, creatively, I made sure to make it relevant, to comfort those who would read it. For final touches, I then added metaphors and other figure of speeches to color and add life to what I was trying to imply.
To enlighten, Hive is a part of the expanding PeakD blockchain that has tight security. And thus, it lessened my worries and doubts. Hive became my safe place the past months before I arrived here in read cash. I could write truthfully there without the fear of getting discriminated. And, I always appreciate the people there because they all have the sense of maturity. It is beneficial to me as a youngster because those mature behaviours influences me to be mature as well.
In addition, writing on Hive trained me in many aspects:
**Disciplining myself to write habitually and with standard so that I would write with sense:**
When I write I want it to bear a message with great value. Moreover, I have observed that my proses and articles there have became lengthy which in that case proves that my writing and scribbling of words improved a lot.
**Being financially responsible and able to be thoughtful and generous:**
Back when I wasn't on Hive yet, I am some selfish brat thinking only about myself and had trouble saving money. However, when I arrived there, strived and then started to harvest the fruits of my efforts, my perspective started to change. I was able to practice giving without wanting in return. It was such a happy feeling that I could help my family with the house expenses and that I could finally earn money by myself and could sustain my wants with the money I am earning.
**Being dedicated:**
Hive trained me in many ways to be dedicated and passionate about writing. Since I want to earn more, I consistently tell myself to be better and never give up writing. In this way, although having a writer's block isn't avoidable, I easily recovers since I push myself to not be lazy.
Lastly, the almost 8 months there in Hive gave me confidence. I became prouder of myself and Hive became somehow a magnifying glass for myself to see that I am worthy and I could be a better version of myself.
I would like to thank those friends that I made there, especially those people who always comment and support me 💗. Even some of us barely interact, we still managed to get along in the comment sections supporting and uplifting each other. I feel so validated. The encouragements are all appreciated because those comments are one of the reasons why I am determined and passionate when writing.
That's all I could share! Thank you read cash as well for being my another writing space and platform to improve. I hope to be better here 💗.
Renésmee Neverfound
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 12 student with an undying passion for writing and art.
Cries of A Student
Studying here in Philippines is a tough challenge. Even if studying was never been light, Philippines has the best to worst education system. And, in this pandemic times one could agree to many that the system got worsen. To aid the developing education crisis, new normal education was brought forth, it is a distance learning education that involves modular, online, and digital. But, even though, these modalities have been in use for the two years of new normal education, the efficacy of these implementations resulted with various outcomes. There have been several issues that students have had to deal with. These include academic burnout, and other mental health problems.
**Acceptance and adjusting was never easy.**
Clearly, most of the students have the same sentiments in this new way of education, "we are studying just to comply". Indeed, there's no learning at all. Open the schools we say, but we can't disregard the risk. We are out of choices but to move forward. And this constant moving and keeping pace have cost us much. This Covid-19 pandemic have put us in pressure, not just academically but life in general.
The problems in each household that once only remain in the house during pre-pandemic times is now adding to the burden of a student studying in their perspective homes.
The students capability of learning differs from one another. There are students who can self-taught, but there are others who need guidance. There may be parents to substitute teachers, but not all parents are available to teach their children, and not all parents know the lessons,
The lack of resources is another pressure to students and parents for not all Filipinos live their lives with privilege, others can barely sustain their family's stomach. Additional resources such us laptop, internet connectivity, budget for load, brought by the new normal education is a constant burden for those unprivileged ones. And sometimes, the lack of resources cause students whom do not have the choice to drop out and work in partial, or causing students to be prone to stress because they are left behind in complying activities.
If not lucky, I could say that I am fortunate enough to be able to keep up being self-taught. Fortunate that my parents are in good relation. Fortunate that my dad is a full-time house husband, who saves me from the heavy house chores, and my mom is a teacher that even if she is the only one who is working, she can sustain our daily needs and can provide resources for us.
We still experience shortage of budget though, we sometimes run out of money and could not even afford to buy viand for dinner, but I grew up being practical, I can stand to eat any edible food served on our table, I only focused to my needs and not my wants *(because I always tell myself that I can buy everything I want once I become successful.)*
I was a consistent top student at school. My parents would tell me that education is the only legacy they could offer because we do not have anything luxurious at home, we do not have any lot nor car. But those material things really don't bother me at all, I have my greatest treasure and it's them. They pushes me to be better, support and believe in me. So, in this dark and rigged education system albeit there are times were I am about to give up, because of the exhaustion, I am still fortunate enough to have them as my light and compass.
*An article I published on Hive and want to share it with you all as well. Thank you so much for reading! Photo from Pixabay.*
Renésmee Neverfound
*An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.*
Sentiment of Yourself (Prose-Poetry)
Now, who are you? you have never been true to anyone at all.
You just let them find what you present, study it and analyze, even love you but still would know nothing about you at the end of your display. It has been your practice to open your closet and choose what skeleton you would want to show to them. fancy, a smart one, an artist, you even tagged one with ‘good’: you have your options on what to wear.
But, you still suffer.
You are nearly too late to be saved. You could not stop wearing tagged skeletons now, could you? After all, you do not know who you are anymore. Maybe you knew and forgot, or maybe your true self is long dead just like the skeletons you have.
No one knows the real you and it has always been like that.
You are free and you are not. It is in that way your world mainly revolves. You pour always your heart out and express your feelings out loud, but it is no use, you still have something caged inside you. Buried deep, sleeping.
(1) You left puzzle pieces that could never be solved with your words left unsaid despite how vocal you were to them.
(2) You have always put an invisible barrier, but then that expanded and got out of your control.
(3) You hide regardless of how courageous you could be.
You acknowledge yourself as your villain in the many ways you could not tell the world because if you choose to free it, the world would find a way to cage you back. And if you choose to cage it? It would destroy you as well.
Those have been the reasons why, right? You act and act and act to exist. Just to exist.
*You are out of ways.*
I just know that all you wanted was to be accepted, but I guess it’s too late.
With pity and love,
Sentiment of yourself
**Thank you for reading!**
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Hi! I am Renésmee Neverfound.
*An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.*
Photo used from @gabi_wahl on Instagram. Credits will be rightfully belong to her.
How passionate are you? (Prose-Poetry)
I dreamt I met a Fine Arts professor in a museum somewhere. But the dream was so short I hadn’t given the chance to answer her question for m
And so the moment I woke up, I wrote this. I know that I had to. Her question really made me think, it put a big question mark in my head. That dreamt left me the worst feeling of hanging. It was a cliff hanger and I was on the edge of it. I wrote this feeling every word and reflecting and realizing how far and how impactful writing is for m
“How passionate are you?
“I write.”
Genuinely I got that answer from the bottom of my heart. I hope it would be enough to tell you writing is passion and I am putting all through it. Because I do not ‘just write’ nor ‘simply write’, I express and whenever I express, I live—I breathe.
All I know that this madness makes me passionate, this feeling of like I am still not found makes me eager to find myself, and this emptiness makes me crave for being whole, to be complete.
Those people who cannot understand would simply say that writing is dull and boring. Those people who do not understand you, who did not read behind the lines, those who cannot comprehend and decipher will simply underestimate you and your answer “I write".
But I know someone is still out there who is eager to study and read you thoroughly. And they will know that this is more than just these gentle taps in screens // the rhythmic clicks and clatters of typewriters // heat from friction of calloused hands brushed against papers // more than taints of inks // more than crumpled papers—writing is more than what you see and observe, there are more in it:
People of different kinds: one will never know your story unless they *(walk-in-your-shoes)* read your book/life, yet the other one will understand you even in their first sight.
When you dig deeper—no, decipher further rather, this is also about the lies of poets that lays beneath those metaphors. About death calls and messages for help that could be found sometimes on the most unexpected line;
"Ironically, I am an open book that no one dared to comprehend..." *This is me saying i felt unappreciated and misunderstood.*
Sometimes it could be about hatred, anger, issues, and insecurities, or complicatedly about heartaches, torment, and pain. For what lies beneath are not only thrills and heartbreak that you could not ever call simple. Further and further you would even come to realization and reminisce those past centuries that those greatest poets and painters never really died. They lived through generations, born in new ages; masterpieces do not die.
Indeed—because we paint words, we make worlds, we craft arts, speak truths (behind lies), and those live and we live not by just blood but through knowledge, power, and nature.
Passion means art. And art will never be dull, writing will never ever be, because this is passion, rebellion; this is extravaganza, a renaissance of all greatest things. This is how passionate I am. How passionate are you?
Renésmee Neverfound
*An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.*
Traumas Were Never Beautiful (Prose-Poetry)
Traumas did not make us stronger; our will to live did.
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I have heard several people voiced their proclaimed wisdom that traumas made us who we are today, they made us tougher, and made us grow, so, we should be grateful.
But sometimes those people who think they knew us well are really those who do not know us enough—or even entirely at all.
ㅤㅤㅤ
Traumas never make people strong. Trauma is like a cancer cell. That damned thing would creep its way even to our very bones, corrupting us, weakening our soul. It makes us weak time to time.
More likely, it's like you are hunted by it, yet you are also that hunted place: wrecked and messed-up. It howls in those times you expected, pretending to be tamed animal, but it howls as well in the most unexpected times. Like a ghost you knew at 3 am would be there sitting beside your bed but you didn’t know it would choke you to death all of a sudden.
It’s like the silence you are loving now not until it would start to kill you off. It would shoot you unexpectedly even in the barest moment if one triggers the gun.
You can never tame it. One moment you thought everything is alright with all the sun beams and rainbows, but a moment later you are again in a transition, lost and fogged with bad, bad memories, deafened by the banging raging storms of your clouded thoughts: angry and sad—a life living in gloom.
So how does it make us strong? When traumas are like stones threw in our glass-like fragile beings. What is broken cannot be fixed. What is wounded deeply cannot be easily healed anymore. Mend it the cracks will remain—*the scars would remain.*
Why we are stronger now are because of all the courage and perseverance we have shed.
It was our will to live despite the darkness that surrounded us that made us who we are now.
It was always our will live to live that helped us to survive the fall.
We picked up our broken selves that even though we cannot entirely get it back to the way it was used to, we got to innovate it, to redesign it, to paint some colors to our monotonous parts.
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I was sexually harassed in a public place. *And it never made part of why I am now in the process of becoming a full grown woman. It’s an insult to assumed that I learned and grew because of that trauma when in fact the trauma never really healed and the wound is still sore until now. I got used to the pain. I practiced to hide it carefully. Because there is no treatment for it and allowing it to consume me would just make weaker and vulnerable, I adapt the pain like the weather,* ***I found a way little by little to stand up. I survive the fall, the challenge, thus, that's why I was stronger than before.***
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Traumas never describe you as a person. Either way, not acknowledging or acknowledging your trauma is valid. To run from it or to face it is alright. We all have ways to deal with it.To hide it deep in your shadows or to show it to the world is acceptable.
The universe appreciates you in your any ways in dealing your trauma. In the first place you are never even responsible for that wreckage. Those never really define you as a person, even your ways to deal your traumas do not define you entirely. What will define you is what person are you going to be now and then.
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This makes us stronger: conditioning ourselves to have appropriate emotional responses but learning to keep moving forward. What makes us even stronger as well is the courage to free ourselves from the heavy burden of the past. You can do everything you want just to make you feel free: hiding, burying, erasing, avoiding, or forgetting, it is acceptable.
Freeing yourself from trauma might be a difficult thing for some, but once we are free from it we can then realize how good it is to stand without the weight of the world in your shoulders. How good it is to fly and be free from nightmares.
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Traumas never made us strong. It is ourselves and how we survived, how we defeated the challenge, and how we got to hone ourselves to be wiser, bolder, and fiercer in facing different obstacle fate offered that made us.
A PROSE-POETRY revised from my account on Hive! I am @rene.neverfoumd there as well! Thanks for reading!
Hi! I am Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing.
We are Afraid of What Time Can Do
***The universe is only the constant thing.*** The universe is the change. It is the vastness of complexity. The infinite. The growth. The current of every river. The way of wind. *It does not look back. It does not turn sideways.* It goes on and on and on.
Thrilled with our adrenaline that rushes like blood flow together with all what if's: we question and think beyond. And it is exhilarating to think that curiosity and knowledge comes with horror. If we further wonder, don't we feel the same way of getting afraid? Of the thought that we are running out of time? The invisible pressure that we are running slowly and still could not keep pace with it?
The horror to grow but as well scared to be stuck in a moment of not growing—of just being frozen.
If we ask ourselves what makes us truly alive, what can we answer?
We are happy to have friends and companions that keep us sane. We treasure them because they are the ones who know the same rhythm our heart has.
We are beyond grateful to have a family that knows us more than anyone—to have a safe place, to have a home. To have them as our temporary-permanent sun that shed us light and warmth even in our darkest hours.
We strive for success and careers because somehow they are our trophy of all hardships. These are our good basis that define us that we are doing good and enough.
We make living through doing what we love. To love and to live—to love the things and the people around you and this world goodly grace; to live a two-sided life with its lightest and darkest phase, the challenge is all around, a game to make our hearts strong and mind wise.
If we ask ourselves what makes us truly alive and we have now our answers, can we recognize what are their exact similarities?
And if we unfold them one by one, decipher them—aren't they all temporary?
Moments in our lives that we love always consumes time the fastest paradoxically to those moments of grief and distress.
We unknowingly leap through time and what scary is all things in this world have been all temporary *(even tectonic plates move).*
Admit it that we all feel scared to grow up knowing that nothing would last. We are humans being human with love and attachments fixed in our hearts. To foresee a future of losing something and someone makes us hope to halt a moment of time. It is even scary to enjoy things knowing what can happen next.
**Scary.**
**A horror.**
But, even if we are afraid to grow up, are we not afraid to be stuck?
Stuck in a life without personal development and growth while everyone is evolving to their full potentials?
Stuck in time but nothing would ever change: you would still lose people you love?
Stuck with yourself with a treasured memory only yourself will know?
Everything feels like a blink of an eye. We all can feel it as astrologists said the Earth is rotating faster for a half of century now. *We can't keep up with the Earth's axis, nonetheless we run find ways to try to make time with time—*
It it is our nature to feel human because we are human after all. We are all afraid of loss more than failures. Yet, all will be dull and boring if we force ourselves to live in an isolation.
What should we do with our daily chances then? Risk it or lose it?
Hi, I am Renésmee Neverfound.
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
Thanks for reading! I appreciate feedbacks as well!
Your Constellated Dead Cosmos (Prose-poetry)
Acnes should not make us feel less hu(wo)(man).
You grew up with scars you would come to think that everyone would thought that you were harassed by a damn werewolf. You woke up to the world comparing yourself to something celestial but a bit weird celestial comparing. You believed that you are the craters of the moon, just the craters perhaps because you think you do not glow and you are too ugly to be compared with its beauty.
And you blamed those people who named you what you have become, words they said that you grew up believing, that you are ugly. However, you blamed yourself more, you loath yourself more because it was a pity thing to feel those as a kid but it was more pathetic to grow up with those and could not help yourself. You ended up feeling so low and so bad.
But it was never your fault, I hope you will realize that. It is just right to blame the people around you, curse them.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
***Try to tell the universe how have you gone mad and low with their hurtful words that got you wounded on how they used to call you scarred and ugly—and these would be Her reply:***
**ㅤㅤㅤㅤi.** If you think that you have gone ugly because of those scars and spots, think twice, and may you realize that with or without it, nothing has changed, you are still you Veronica, Alina, John, or whatever precious name you have. You are beautiful that is something that cannot be changed nor undone.
**ㅤㅤㅤㅤii.** You know it will take a lot of courage to face the world so instead look at those stars, especially the moon and ask “how are they shining so bright betwixt the darkness that surrounds them?”
Because they are a part of the universe? Because even though the moon has scars and the stars are short-lived they have something in common? What are these commons? Did they find the light even in the dark? Or maybe they know themselves more than anyone?
***ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ********You can still find yourself.*****
**ㅤㅤㅤㅤiii**. Lastly, curse countless times those discriminants with their so-called “standards”. Never let their standardizations cut you off, you are you and you are so fucking perfect with those imperfections. You are not flawed, those people with their trash minds are.
ㅤ ㅤㅤ
Now look in the mirror.
Those constellated dead cosmoses etched on your precious skin was never been a black hole for their judgment. You should not feel ashamed of having those. After all, it was your mark of the hardships and battles you have fought. It nonetheless lessens your beauty in fact, it showed the power that only you possessed that after you have suffered from breakdowns, anxieties, and distress—you stood still and remained brave. Courageous. Aren’t those an act of being beautiful?
****A PROSE-POETRY revised from my account on Hive! I am**** @rene.neverfound ****there as well!**** Thanks for reading!
Hi! I am Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing.
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own any of the photograph used. I made sure to ask @gabi_wahl on ig for her permission to use these. All credits are rightfully given to @gabi_wahl on ig for the photographs used.*
A Self-Care Menu (Acrostic Prose-Poetry)
Someone asked me how on earth I manifested my growth, so I told her I ate a lot, stayed up all night, played myself out, and enjoyed every moment I had.
**PHASE ONE !¡**
***do not be so hard on yourself*** ㅤㅤㅤ
Self-care menu to get your desire body:
⁰¹ㅤ **E-**at what you want in moderation
ㅤㅤ**A-**nd enjoy and savor everything you love,
ㅤ**ㅤT-**aste that spice, now take that sugar.
⁰²ㅤ **A-**ccept your imperfections,
ㅤㅤ**N-**irvana hides within acceptance,
ㅤㅤ**D-**o not ever let them choke you with their ‘standards’.
⁰³ㅤ **B-**reathe the hell out!
**ㅤㅤE-**xhale the toxins & inhale the good ones.
⁰⁴ㅤ **H-**ydrate yourself
**ㅤㅤA-**lways every damn hour,
**ㅤㅤP-**unch the air (try it)
**ㅤㅤP-**unch, and then kick, get sweat!
**ㅤㅤY-**our life, your rule, your limits, and your freedom.
Note: I eat chocolates, nuts, sugars and everything nice. I never let myself crave in hunger. Have yourself some discipline and limits, those would be better instead of risking yourself eating nothing with your thought of ‘diet’, for Pete’s sake that is ‘dying’.
I want to tell you even it would be redundant just so you know to fooling yourself around fitting on their standards. You should not be embarrassed by having YOUR BODY that embodied your holiness, you are your vessel;
*ves•sel [véss'l]*
*(n.) who embodies quality.*
Your body was never meant to be a doorway for their judgments. Move and do not let any of them ruin you. Always remember that skinny or big-boned; you are beautiful.
PHASE TWO !¡
***do not ever let their standards choke you***ㅤㅤ
Self-care list to have your desire skin & face:
**ㅤㅤL-**ist the things you are insecure and mad about and list the things you are good at and your uniqueness.
**ㅤㅤO-**n the mirror face your fears, face yourself and then breathe. Darling, I know how hard it is, but taking a small step will not hurt you. Take a step to plan everything you want to not just for change nor for their approval—plan everything for you, for yourself!
**ㅤㅤV-**ague as it may seem at first, but everything is a process. Healing is feeling broken some of the times, healing could be even that void you will suddenly feel out of nowhere, healing is breaking down late at night and sometimes it is even your breakouts (YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT PIMPLES, DARK SPOTS, & WRINKLES ARE ALL NATURAL, AFTERALL WE ARE ALL HUMANS AND NOT DOLLS)
Healing is even
just trying
to breathe!
**ㅤㅤE-**very inch of you shouts uniqueness, and their judgments cannot get those away from you. They may bury it six feet below beside your elderly's bones, dirt it like how they threw mud-like words at you, but your beauty will always be there, your self will always be there patiently waiting for you to move and fight back.
**LOVE:** self-love is so POWERFUL that maybe that’s the reason why you need a lot of processes, you need to face a lot of trials and errors first, you need guts and perseverance, courage, and bravery to acquire it.
**PHASE THREE !¡**
***accept yourself***
SAVOR YOUR GROWTH AND TREAT YOURSELF WITH LOVE AND CARE.
This is what happiness meant to me. The happiness of loving myself and that what makes me so confident and comfortable.
I have my insecurities, I have here slept the anxiety inside me, I got a lot of imperfections, but I am not flawed, and neither you are. Believe in yourself because yourself is all you have. If you do not know yourself yet, it is never too late to discover it.
May the odds be in your favor so that you can find the solace and solitude you deserve.
AN ACROSTIC PROSE-POETRY revised from my account on Hive! I am @rene.neverfound there as well! Thanks for reading!
Hi! I am Renésmee Neverfound ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing.
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own any of the photograph used. I made sure to ask @gabi_wahl on ig for her permission to use these. All credits are rightfully given to @gabi_wahl on ig for the photographs used.*
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LINK:
https://www.instagram.com/p/CRCUy0HAV-r/
Folktales and Truth not only of Witches
Bury them alive. Burn them. Stab them countless times. But things will never change—they will always remain powerful, a threat, and the greatest whom you always envied.
A letter to those who have the darkest and biggest envy in their hearts, for all the ones they hate, they loath, and they want to destroy.
For the bullies; for my bullies,ㅤ
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I. Even if you tell them things oppositely to what they are: a witch to one, a villain to another, a friend to none; they will not still lose everything you loathed to have. For they know the depths within themselves, they will keep on moving forward while you will be left behind to bury yourself and your hatred on the grave you have dug for them.
It will consume you and grind you up bits by bits. They will succeed and you will not. Because of all the things you complain, wish, and envy, you remained at your point. You stopped right there and watched them living the fullest of their lives. You did not move and did not make a plan to work your life out. You focused yourself on other lives than yourself.Your anger will be the cause of your destruction, and it will bury you alive.
II. Try to take everything away from them but they will remain unbothered. So unfortunate of you, you cannot take anything they dearly hold because those are not the simplest things you can easily lay your filthy hands onto. Burn them, but their beauty will remain on everyone's minds. Their intelligence will be a part of history. Lastly, their selves will keep on resurrecting from the ashes you burned.
Their memory will hunt you
and the things they were
naturally good at that you
could not surpass even
over their dead bodies.
Of all the good characteristics you loathed them will reflect to you in contrast. They will see you as ugly as you narrate them to other people's minds. You will remain at your worst while they are doing their best.
III. Leave them hanging on the edge of a cliff. Push them over. Stab them at their back. Curse them in their faces. But all of those would not hurt them. Their walls will instead thicken. Their power will even nurture. And if you are asking why they are so brave, so bold, and so strong?
They got the blood of the women who were shut, who were burned, who were forced, who were buried alive; centuries, generations, decades, years, and days ago. Because a fall of one will be a power to rise ten times stronger of these women.
You can't destroy them. You don't destroy them.
The history remembered how you called us evil names because of your ignorance with women. Women who were loud, women who were mad, women who were wiser, women who were braver, women who were too beautiful, women who were rare. Women you feared.
For the bullies who tried to ruin us, where and what are you now?
I bet you are lurking in the darkest grounds. Waiting to attack if we will show to the world even a single sign of weakness. I hope you enjoy tasting the rusty tang of bitter blood that rotted in your dirty mouth. We never meant to offer you harm nor fear, all malice had been a product of your ignorance.
Sincerely being pure and true,
Women
Hi, I am Renésmee Neverfound.
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
Photo captured by Gabi Wahl on IG. I first asked permission before using it, all credits will be rightfully hers.
Thanks for reading! I appreciate feedbacks as well!
Tales of Truth
Ten years old: my mother told me tales I never thought were fragments of truth. She read stories I never knew were untold traumas. She spoon-fed me not only with lessons and morals but also warnings—"’ always close the door and never let the wolf in even if he will sound alike…’” my mind wandered as I remember what she said, "’ even if he will sound like home, even if he will sound like comfort.’" She hid a secret message to never let my guard down that a wolf will always be a wolf, and so as the other tales that I should not wait for a prince nor a knight in shining armor, and must outwit wicked witches before they outwit me.
Seventeen, and the past seven years became a painful blur. The irony on how everyone experiences being lost but not everyone experiences being found, as well as how easy it is to get lost, how fast it is to get broken, but so difficult to find a path to walk forward, so slow it is to heal and to rebuild what has been ruined. My mother told me tales I was so foolish to not understand not until I experienced it beforehand.
_
First were the wolves that lured me. I gave everything I have without knowing how it would cost me now. The trauma of so-called friends shape-shift to their true form: abusers who haven’t done me good and true. I let them hurt me because I thought it was alright to be mocked and shamed by ‘friends’. I gave what they wanted just to fit their standards. I unknowingly let myself be a feast to the wolves, and how fast I got destroyed is how paradoxically slow the process of healing has been.
Second were the princes and knights in shining armor I let myself believe they were real. I met boys who acted princely, who wore decency, and who saved me that became a flint to ignite the false hope here in my heart. Those moments I let myself believe that fairytale could exist, moments were I became easy to blush, the false-fire warming my heart, moments I did not know I am only like wood and the fire could consume me whole. I became too dependent I forgot how to stand alone, indeed I was all alone, the princes and knights were not really real, so I fell without no one to hold to because I became weak of waiting when I should never wait for them. I was a fool.
Third were wicked witches who looked dearly and innocent I never knew would use me and poison me with their words. They could be friends, best friends, sometimes your relatives, and even could be your sister’s mother or brother’s father. They were casually cruel in the name of being honest I did not dare to mind the hurt. They told me I was ugly, and they still used me to be compared. I was needed for the worst and never good. Evil witches who gave me apples with threats. I was young and will never know the difference between a poisonous apple and what is not, I was young, hungry, and desperate without a mother. They will give you food in exchange for yourself, they will let you live but with an exchange of a rope in your neck. Moments I asked myself if it wasn’t a fairytale then what was it? But witches outwitted me and I know in those very moments it could not be a fairytale, I was suffering and all was real.
Seventeen, and the past seven years became a painful blur. It remained painful in spite of how stronger I become. Because I remember what my mother told me about trauma and healing. They are not alike, they contrast, and people around us have wronged to combine them both. Traumas do not make us stronger, surviving is. Surviving what have the wolves, the wrong belief, and the wicked have done. With foolishness comes the regret to make things better and right.
My mother told me tales
I finally knew were fragments of reality,
When she told me to be wise
About my senses that could betray me,
When she often leaves me for months
That taught me to become independent,
When she gave me books and paints
To focus on molding my soul and worth,
For there are two sides of the books
I should have known better,
Nevertheless, now I know
I was a fool but I am now wiser.
Renésmee Neverfound
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
A School Year Well Paid Off
Yesterday, I highlighted another moment. A day to treasure. It was a day to commemorate the hardships and battles I have fought just to survive and to live a life worth-living.
All my years, I have been a jack of all trades but not a master of anything. And although I get many praises from the things I am knowledgeable about I still get this feeling of discontentment. I need to find something that would be my main goal, that would mark me, that would make me know that I am enough.
Hence, academics are my battleground. Studying became my forte. I love learning but I love a fair game as well. I only go for good competitions, and to where I am competent most? It is with myself and to prove progress by progress that I could do better, that I could reach my goals I have for myself.
My family is the pillar of my success. They are always the reason why I strive to study wise and great. I am very thankful for their unconditional love and never-ending support. And with much gratitude, I want to succeed for them and gave them the best that they all deserved, to pay their sacrifices.
I am so happy to share to all of you this achievement. Because it was never easy to be in this day. Pandemic has been the biggest threat still. And being in an online class drains me a lot that it even caused to danger my eyesight. I am very grateful that after the consistent ranting, exhaustion, breakdowns, I made it to the end and made it even to the top of the class! I thank the Almighty God for guiding me and giving me the sense of moral I always needed most. I thank my friends and family for this. Thanks a lot as well for the people in Hive because Hive has been as well my jetpack to have confidence and as well of the read.cash community for giving me opportunities to take risk and sustain my needs.
Renésmee Neverfound
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
Traumas were never beautiful
Traumas did not make us stronger; our will to live did.
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I have heard several people with clothed voice of their proclaimed wisdom said that traumas made us who we are today, and that they made us tougher, and made us grow.
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And sometimes those people who think they knew us well are really those who do not know us enough – or even entirely at all.
ㅤㅤㅤ
Traumas never make people strong. Only a fool would think of that, an uneducated one would say. Trauma is a cancer. That damned thing would creep its way even to our very bones, corrupting us, weakening our soul. It makes us weak time to time.
ㅤㅤㅤ
It’s like you are hunted by it, yet you are also the hunted place: wrecked and messed-up. It howls in the most unexpected times, and it howls as well in those times you expected it. Like a ghost you knew at 3 am would be there sitting beside your bed but you didn’t know it would choke you to death all of a sudden. It’s like the silence you are loving now not until it would start to kill you off. It would shoot you unexpectedly even in the barest moment if one triggers the gun.
ㅤㅤㅤ
You can never tame it. One moment you thought everything is alright with all sun beams and rainbows, but a moment later you are again in a transition, lost and fogged with bad bad memories, deafened by the banging raging storms of your clouded thoughts: angry and sad – a life living in gloom.
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So how does it make us strong? When traumas are like stones threw in our glass-like fragile beings. What is broken cannot be fixed. What is wounded deeply cannot be easily healed anymore. The cracks will remain, and so do scars.
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Why we are stronger now are because of all the courage and perseverance we have shed. It was our will to live despite the darkness that surrounded us that made us who we are now. It was always our will live to live that helped us to survive the fall. We picked up our broken selves that even though we cannot entirely get it back to the way it was used to, we got to innovate it, to redesign it, to put some colors to our monotonous parts.
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I was sexually harassed in a public place. And it never made part of why I am now in the process of becoming a full grown woman. *It’s an insult.* To assumed that I learned and grew because of that trauma when in fact the trauma never really healed and the wound is still sore until now. *I got used to the pain. I practiced to hide it carefully.* Because there is no treatment for it and allowing it to consume me would just make weaker and vulnerable, I adapt the pain like the weather, I found a way little by little to stand up. I survive the fall, the challenge, thus, I was stronger than before.
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Traumas never describe you as a person. Either way, not acknowledging or acknowledging your trauma is validated. To run from it or to face it is alright. To hide it deep in your shadows or to show it to the world is acceptable. The universe appreciates you in your anyways in dealing your trauma. In the first place you are never even responsible for that wreckage. It never really defines you as a person, even your ways to deal your traumas do not define you entirely. What will define you is what person are you going to be now and then.
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This makes us stronger: conditioning ourselves to have appropriate emotional responses but learning to keep moving forward. What makes us even stronger as well is the courage to free ourselves from the heavy burden of the past. These do not involve hiding, burying, erasing, avoiding, or forgetting, but only involves by just freeing, literally freeing ourselves. Freeing yourself from trauma might be a difficult thing for some, but it is what it is, once we are free from it we can then realize how good it is to stand without the weight of the world in your shoulders. How good it is to fly and be free from nightmares.
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Traumas never made us strong. It is ourselves and how we survive, how we defeated the challenge, and how we got to hone ourselves to be wiser, bolder, and fiercer in facing different obstacle fate has offered to us made us.
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**Renésmee Neverfound** ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
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Author's Note: I personally edited the photos from Tumblr. However, the resources aren't mine. Credits are rightfully given to the rightful owners of the pictures I used.
ㅤㅤ https://peakd.com/@rene.neverfound https://peakd.com/@gabi
Under the Surface: Who are you?
We all have skeletons in our closets. We hide something behind our smiles. We have pressures suppressed under the surface. We have voices buried deep in the void inside ourselves. We have taints and inks either removed or sulked here in our skins. We all hide something, even *someone.*
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When we can no longer take those difficult circumstances, instead of letting out the heaviness that we feel, we push it back deep down within ourselves. Because in our minds, the urge to shout and scream is lesser than the consequences we might get when we express our feelings. *We were scared to be misinterpreted*. *We were scared to be misunderstood.* *We were scared to be judged.* We fear losing people if they will witness an unusual rage. We are afraid they cannot accept us, aren't we? We were afraid of what others might say, but have you looked at yourself as well? Did you fear losing yourself with the habit of burying things down, or were you busy fearing what others might think of you?
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We are more fragile when we are imprisoned. Having unsaid doubts, fear, thoughts, and anger inside ourselves are like a wide hole of the wound being bandaged only with paper napkins. It is like an awakening volcano that will burst dangerously any minute. Like pressure that is ready to blow till we just go pop. Like a wild animal caged and wanting to go out. It weakens our system. What we hide consumes the worst of us:
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Demons live within us.
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*Lucifer was once an angel. Angel gets mad sometimes, don't they?* What if our inner demons were once kind thoughts that gone mad? No one wanted to be shut. No one deserved discrimination. However, everyone else tests each other's limits, I bet you will be mad when you were being joked around but the joke stabbed you countless times already. I bet you cried inside but showed them your unaffected laugh. I bet you were aching to be found and to be validated. But as circumstances have gone worsened, and the bad habits continued, your feelings as well evolved. *Inner demons are sometimes the product of rage we failed to express.*
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Hot, hot, hot pressures.
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When we live with expectations, we get more numb. We can climb even the highest peak just to not fail those people who expect the best from us. We can dare to face the unbelievable challenges they set to make them proud. We even set ourselves at least in our priorities, as long as we prioritize them to make them happy for us. But the human limits say it all, we are made to break and bend especially if we haven't made a strong foundation with ourselves. *Who would not break with the constant pressure of expectations put off?*
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Skeletons
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*Whose skeletons you have in your closet?* Rest in peace to our dreams and personas who died fighting this hellish life. *It is okay to give up when you cannot take it any longer.* Who am I to dictate to you what to do when we have our own emotional level? We all get tired and we enter different phases. We differ with the lives we are living and the death we will have. Those skeletons were full of tragic memories buried and lost to oblivion. The only hope they have is your memories, but it is you if you will remove it too. Tell me, does your skeleton wear an astronaut suit? Do your skeleton bones look like a canvas full of paint? Does your skeleton have soft bones? Because my skeleton wore a halo, it had hope plastered in her skull; it wore a lab gown and had a stethoscope. Anyhow, she died anyway, buried again deep within me. No one knows *someone* died, but everyone killed it.
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*Life is ironic and metaphoric*
*Life is a figure of speech I tried to convey with hiding.*
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Under the surface was everything no one can read except you. You ached in there, you bled there. Tip, tip, tip, tick, tick, tick... will it be a mess if you will let that sob out? Or will it be your freedom to let everyone know that you still exist and live?
**Renésmee Neverfound** ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
ㅤㅤㅤ https://peakd.com/@rene.neverfound https://peakd.com/@gabi
How powerful can words could be?
*What is meant by those expressed combination of sounds and those written arranged letters?*
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As sphere as the Earth is, as two-sided as coins are, words can build a world as it can ruin an entire kingdom.
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**INEVITABLE:** words might be used to drown you down, but these as well can be a fuel to ignite your burning passion. These might be used as cataclysm for darkness, but words can be a source of light triple to the brightest star in the universe.
Words might be a metaphorical synonym to a nuclear bomb, but words can create a nation, bind a country, and put a world in harmony. It is the most powerful weapon one can wield. These as can be the worst things are all great things if used, written, and spoke well.
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**It is a medicine for invisible wounds.**
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There are words that stab. Words that pierce into your deepest skin. Some are salt put in your bleeding wound. *Inevitable.* *Timely.* But if you would found the right people, words can be a cure. It is a type of medicine though could not be touched nor seen, one could felt the safeness, comfort, and warmth as its aftereffects.
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It is a bandage for a bleeding wound; permanently or temporarily – either way, it helps a struggling person to cope up. The speaker may not consider it as a big deal, but the listener who is going through something painful that heard those kind words would be just enough for them to use those as a breather.
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It may not entirely heal a certain trauma but it would be a big help for a therapy. It could help for recovering of the lost courage, broken confidence, burn outs, worsening fear, and other emotionally, physically, and mentally difficulties.
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**It is a food for hungry souls.**
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We all feel hollow and caught up sometimes. We feel empty. We sometimes feel desperate. And what we are feeling are all valid. *Because we are all souls* and we feel hungry as to when we feel full.
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How do we define hungry? Are we lacking of food? Or are we lacking attention? We are hungry for the things that we want to have but cannot. We are hungry because of discontentment. Yes, we are hungry because we lack attention. We are even hungry for knowledge. We can be hungry for love. And, we are hungry because we know we also deserve what is best for us.
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Words may not be a physical object nor a thing, but why does words satisfy our souls most especially if we are well fed with it?
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It is because we are hungry for words, for the comfort that comes with it. We need to hear words of affirmation that we are special, we are worthy, we are loved, and we are more than enough. Words that assure us that we are not alone in our lives, in our own fight, and in this damned world.
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The discontentment and desperation that we feel are sometimes the byproducts of being left out and being less cared. We are hungry to hear words that offer us comfort, validation, and attention. We are so human, and even the shyest person in this world wants to be looked at and looked out as well.
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**It plays a significant role for a person’s growth.**
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We are connected to the heart of the world. And everything does connect us all in million ways. Words do play their roles. We have invisible roots that connect us to the universe. As we, humans, are trees that came from seeds and will wither ahead of time, words help us water ourselves. They nourish our growth. Even the unkind words make up a better source of inspiration to evolve and grow stronger and better. Words are light that are responsible source of enrichment, the fiery glow, and the healthy life.
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As much as words could possibly be pests or any destructive world beings, words that are offered and given nice help us to bloom beautifully. Kind words that are carved already in our trunk make us remember that we are appreciated. Those carved words will not go anywhere and will be forever in our memories reminding us all the nicest things someone could offer.
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The never ending words have their never ending purpose and value as well. A courage. A rope. A bridge. Words are hope.
**Renésmee Neverfound** ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
ㅤㅤㅤ https://peakd.com/@rene.neverfound https://peakd.com/@gabi
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Reality is?
How did people see you when you told them you can't take any bullshit in life any longer? How did they *define* you when you said your mind can't take it anymore?
Yesternight, my mother scrutinized how uncertainly those tiny sprouts of red-mushy like bloomed on my face and how those bags on my eyes got heavier as if I carry cumulus clouds that rained in distress. But when I honestly told her that I felt like a wrongly bloomed flower in a nowhere meadow who loses hopes as this planet continues to orbit, as usual, she then shrugged me off and told me that I was getting stranger, numb, and naïve. That all I did was to live my *li(f)e* irrationally:
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She said I spend more of my time caving in my room avoiding even the tiniest glimpse of sunlight's kiss and the moonlight's glow. Little did she know I have feared the spotlight and the feels of peeking outside because of them, too.
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I always wish. That *if only what I am feeling is only a stage fright, I would just fear strangers.* But, what do you call when you fear people you knew? What if the people whom society told us that could be our greatest source of power are also our biggest weak point? *I was just sure that I do not want to waste my energy proving people who do not see my worth, I would rather hide. Am I a coward? Maybe, maybe not.*
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I focused my attention on weirder than usual nonsensical stuff as they always say—which they do not have any clue that it was my only escape and my distraction from their noises.
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I have never felt bad being called weird before, but everything has changed when they always call me that with disgusted faces. I thought if you have the same DNA flowing on you, you will always be relatable to anything, that somehow they would come to understand. *But I was wrong, or so I thought, I hope.*
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Feeling bad about myself isn't just about how those insecurities and doubts lurk and hunt me every midnight. This is about me but this is not about *because I am the one who is putting myself in a labyrinth of my fictitious belief.* It is not me who is being harsh on myself. When depression hits, it hits. Depression or something chaotic in yourself can shoot someone anywhere and anytime.
When they say, "Reality is where you belong," *no.* *Reality is sometimes the place of harassment.* And you cannot just laugh at me when I believe in that way because I, myself am fighting to live as long as I can.
Some people say reality is home, but sometimes it is a place you could not find yourself you belong.
Life is indeed hard, but it is also full of colors, do not be the one who will steal everything completely. *Listen.* *Hear those cries.* We are weak sometimes, will that be the reason to invalidate us?
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**Renésmee Neverfound** ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
ㅤ ㅤ https://peakd.com/@rene.neverfound https://peakd.com/@gabi
A Writer's Tale
When... you are different, it is either you were conspired or you are just unique.
But what do you call yourself when both relates? You are a girl, not so fortunate but not that unfortunate either. You work differently, live differently, in a good way and in a bad way. You don't relate to them but you relate to the world. You bloomed late but still you bloomed uniquely, yet again, you are different to them.
You are a loner. A sprout of dandelion in a field of sunflowers. But isn't it better to be different?
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**“You will learn to talk to the universe once no one talks to you.”**ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
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***I speak witch tales and epics for the long forgotten heroines,***
***tell poetries of rebellion and love for one soul that needs mending,***
***and most of all, write because my heart wants to be calm***
***and my mind wants to be sane.***
**Who am I and what lies beneath my words?**
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**THE LOST CAUSE**
I buried my cat seven years ago together with that carefree kid. Since then, it became a mannerism to take a peek at our backyard where the once bed of soil has not been tall grasses and wild flowers can be seen. I have witnessed several times the ground prickled from heat and dampened from rain as well with the growth of grasses and trees. In those moments it seems everything was right and seasonal except for me. I remained dying, empty, and a lost cause. Maybe it was because I buried my carefree persona at an early age instead of enjoying the remaining years of my childhood, or maybe I woke up too early to the world. Nonetheless, the only thing I was sure of was everything is just starting. I was again different. Those with the same age as I am do not feel this yet. The storm and the chaos have yet to come.
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**THE WANDERING**
You will learn to talk to the universe once no one talks to you. Once loneliness creeps in, a different and desperate thirst creeps out. You will start hearing things, start seeing things move, or start understanding what lies beneath the simplest up to the complexity of them.
Cliché if you may think but this is how a loner’s world revolves. Believe it or not, I grew up talking to the moon and stars above. Because the relativity keeps me closer to them, the darkness they are in is the same shade I am at. I talk to the trees and the flowers gracefully standing its ground on our field, aren’t we all things? Because I see myself and the freedom they have. I am a part of nature, growing, and the belief that I will soon bloom in my reverie makes me ache what they have and question the universe when could I have that.ㅤI am a wanderer perhaps, but a little different from then. When the storm raged my being that was when I started to talk to the infinite. Impossible is an understatement, I knew that moment that I loved learning, adapted to being alone, and who would have thought that understanding could be the greatest thing I would account to have?
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**THE REBIRTH**
Believing you are different from them, I started taking a moving perspective. It is good to be different. I am a rebirth of my success, my failure, and my yesterdays. I have different personas that also differ from what I do. It could be a painter in Paris, a sculpture in Greece, a demi-god, a wizard, the greatest astronomer ever lived, a poetess, an author dreaming for a book signing, a musician in LA, a dancer in New York, a lead character from a book I am currently reading, a student in my favorite city, a daughter, or just a lost soul in a messy room waiting for her doom.
Writing became a holy grail, a comfort to my sick mind, my diary, and my only best friend. It sculpted me onto someone I would never be ashamed of. Once lost is now found. The kid I buried has flowers now on her skeleton. The freedom I sought came to me willingly. Because we are all things, I grew and bloomed and will continue to. I am Renesmee Neverfound, I am a rebirth of my lost thoughts coming to life again and again. Arouse from ruins and ashes. Close to death and a universe’s friend. This is a braver rebellion of resurrected ruins from the graveyard of poesies I carry under my tongue.
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A Braver Rebellion Tale,
*renesmee neverfound*
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**Renésmee Neverfound** ㅤ
An aspirant writer and artist. To be found is my greatest dream and never be lost. Hi, I am @rene.neverfound, you can call me Rene or Esme if you like. I specialized in prose-poetry and poetry, and now I am trying new things and writing styles. I love learning! I am a 17-year-old girl living life in the Philippines. And my face-claim here is @gabi_wahl on ig. I am a total bookworm and a grade 11 student with an undying passion for writing and art. Having many dreams is a funny mess because I get confused most of time with regard to what course should I take in college. I want to be an astrologist, a doctor, a journalist, an author, a professional artist, an archaeologist, and many more I forgot to remember while writing this.
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images retrieved from @gabi_wahl on instagram:
🔗https://www.instagram.com/p/CWn1LIdMh7T/
https://peakd.com/@rene.neverfound https://peakd.com/@gabi
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@rene.neverfound
