When Zee traded my port: WEB and MWIDE

Zee and I do a lot of funny deals lately just because. He seems to like to negotiate his way out into what he wants and I do too, so to make every one happy, we make some deals. We’re over the Chocolate Era, although it goes without saying that I must still provide for my end of the bargain, and we are now entering a weirder transaction.

Every hour I write, he watches a korean drama I choose. Right now, he’s at episode 6 of The Descendants of the Sun.

Ask him if “kinilig” sya between Sergeant Major Dae Young and Lieutenant Myeong-Ju. He will begrudgingly say, “yes”.

DOTS

 


 

It all started with a panic. I messaged him saying I have a position in a third-liner and I have no means of accessing the internet in the next 3 crucial days. Even before, I already have the irrational fear of suddenly dying from an accident and being “all in” on a stock like CAL. How in the world can my family benefit from that?

I specifically told him that with my luck and my cursed port, I was almost certain that something awful would happen the next few days. He asked me not to be silly. “Ports are ports, they don’t know who you are, besides you’re not the kind who would apply feng shui on your stock account. I’ve known you to, how do you say it? ‘Create’ fate.”

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Never mind that, I just told him I needed his help. “I’m going to be gone a few days, it’s out of my hands. Can you please cut my position if necessary?” There was no stop loss order yet in PSE but fortunately, Zee was willing to help.

After the awkward moment of telling him what my password was, he preceded to ask, “Are you not afraid of a stranger holding your money like this?”

Well, Zee and I are already at the point where we regularly hurl insults and try to make the other person as uncomfortable as possible. It’s a tight competition of carino brutal. Daily trolling activities hence the Descendants Of The Sun deal and him sending me weird videos early in the morning. (“Could you please give me 10 seconds to re-orient myself before I watch this very disturbing clip of pimple popping. I’m not even sure what year it is.”)

So I immediately replied, “Oh please. That money is a small cut to you.”

But the truth is, I’ve got used to him. He was the kind of guy who would suffer for the matters of principle. It didn’t matter how hard it is or how unpopular his opinion was for the sake of honor and dignity. Once he decides, he will bullheadedly sit on his decision and never move.


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Stay honorable or get indigestion

“Listen, listen. I have a plan.”, I told him excitedly. “I’ll loan from the bank AND then go home.”

“What? What in the world are you talking about?” He shot back. He didn’t sound so happy.

“It’s just business as usual.” I retorted. “Their insurance will take care of it. Besides, I’m not willing to trade my time, which amounts to about a year of NOT letting my hair down and enjoying a bit for myself, for the same amount of money I can so simply take! I call it street smart, isn’t it so? Fortune favors the brave. I’m just going to be very brave.”

He was choosing his words carefully. “Don’t do it, that’s not right. Is there no one who could lend you the same amount of money? What are you even going to do with it?”

“You know what I’m going to do with it. Besides, what’s so wrong with it? The bank will get their money thru insurance. They’re insured! I know so many who did it and they’re fine. The point is, I’m not going to pay all of it back so I don’t see myself finding a rich auntie to get that money from– because I got to pay her back for that.”

“That’s cheating…” He complained. “You’re just making me hungry. Wew.”

And that was it. That’s him when he’s mad. He gets hungry. I laughed and told him he was so nice even when he’s angry, I’ve seen so many men angry, at work, and in my life, and it was so comforting that he didn’t explode on me when all my defenses are down for him or that I wasn’t in line of fire when he wanted to pull triggers.

“I’m not going to allow you to do that.” He said decidedly. “My perception of you will change if you do, do you understand? Stay honorable. You won’t have to do that. Teka, kain lang ako.”


 

He ended up having to cut the stock. After reading his messages throughout the day when I was finally able to have internet access, he said something about getting another one.

Like the usual, I thought he only meant for me to review it. There must be something interesting in it. So I logged on COL to chart and then, there it was.

Surprise.

I have to confess it was funny, leaning on adorable because I know exactly what happened.

You give a man who seems to be born to trade an empty port with lots of potential and he will inevitably trade it. It’s an itch. I don’t know. We don’t question this. It’s how the universe works– We all gravitate towards doing what we do best.

 

When I asked him about it, he innocently said, “Oh yeah, I did, I guess. I have some and I thought you might like to. Hehe. Besides, let’s see if you’re right. Is your port really the chasm of trading bad luck or do you just need to do better?”

How it was another competition between us I don’t know, and then he added something else. “I got you into position plays okay? Just don’t take a look at your port until the end of the week.”

Sure.

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A Test of Principles

He’s tutoring new bastards now and he gets paid with milkshakes. He sent me a photo of the two lucky kids being taught in a cafe.

In the middle of our conversation he suddenly told me, as lightly as he could and trying not to make it a big deal out of it, “Celeste, I’ve made risky trades on your account. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll pay your money back.”

I immediately protested. “I’m not letting you do that.”

“I will.”, He said nonchalantly.
“No, I’m meeting you in the middle for what you’re doing.”
“Just this time.”

Dear friends,

Zee is stubborn, so knowing this, I know the conversation will not end according to how I want it.

“Let me think about it.” That was the best I could do to stop him.

Aside from the fact that the bank account linked to my COL was deactivated.

The most important matters are those he always try to say nonchalantly, simply because he’s… shy.

The beauty of social media is how I could understand the current temperature of the markets. The trading community is very vocal about what could be going on. It didn’t take a lot to find out what was going on.

 

 

He got 55% of my port in WEB.

“Was it WEB? That made you decide to say that?”
“Yes.”

The comments were awful. There was a very sharp sell off ever since the president of the company ran into some troubles with the president of the country. There was an issue about the license expiring, and on that day, the application for renewal of the license was harshly revoked by the government.

Absolutely every one predicted blood. Those who did not have any continued to laugh at other people’s pain and incinerated the fire of panic. 4.25 at current levels, they were betting it to hit the floor.

I tried to tell him it was okay, that I understand, and that I do not blame him nor does it change anything between us. I knew how devastating I’d feel once it does go to the floor but I wasn’t willing to disturb the harmony Zee and I have over money, no matter how desperately I needed it.

Money doesn’t matter so much in the end.

 

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So I tried to make sure he’ll go easy on himself.

The next day, I was met with news.

 

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Great. Of all the things in my life, this is one of the things I hate the most. I hate waiting for things to turn out in the end. It’s agony, extended agony, playing on my biggest flaw which is overthinking. I always think of the worst case scenario, and even if none of those turned out as bad as I thought, I still couldn’t keep myself from repeating it.

Since WEB was suspended anyway, in the evening, I charted MWIDE. There was nothing we could do about WEB and if the market sentiment was going to crash and burn it, no amount of TA would matter just the mental preparation to lose our money at the floor price.


 

Some really random thing I made up. I remember vividly how Zee said that I need to learn how to take my gains. I’m so horrible at it that none of my good trades even mattered in the end because I never took profit.

So let’s start staging them…

stay safe

Level 1: Stay Safe
Protect your capital. Nothing is more important than preserving your ‘life’. I learned that now, it’s a hard lesson but my experience should be enough to drill it into my skull. Don’t even think about having a deep pain threshold when you’re not:

a. Trading money you can afford to lose/get scammed. Also otherwise known as the money that isn’t supposed to pay for your food, rent, education, and/or emergency fund. If you wanted to travel to somewhere just for the “likes”, pull yourself together and put it here unless this is trip couldn’t wait any longer.

b. When your original portfolio size has already been significantly reduced.

I think this is pretty self-explanatory unless you’re not emotionally attached to all the money you’ve lost that you could have spent on other things. It’s an opportunity trade-off, the money you lost could have been used somewhere else. I’m a constant offender of this. I keep thinking about what I sacrificed and refused for the sake of increasing my portfolio, and when I end up losing that money the sick feeling in my stomach becomes overwhelming. I wish I had used that money to get some sushi atleast. I miss sushi and this is torture. Or new shoes for work, my shoes are starting to detoriorate and peel off with wear. I wouldn’t even allow myself that.

There is a fine line between grim motivation to get it back versus hoping against hope and starting to wave your white flag. At one point in my life, I have tried to practice parkour. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s a sport that action movies are so keen into. 90% of the time, the tricks involving the superhuman abilities of flying through dangerous stunts can only happen if I believed I can do it. The moment I start running and gain momentum, air filling my lungs, my steps thundering against the ground, a split second of doubt was enough to kill my chances of succeeding. I would embarrassingly stop at the edge, and run back to where I started. I have learned that the same thing goes for surfing.

Trading is no different. Doubt and you will fail.

“Success is the ability to move from one failure to another without loss of enthusiasm.” – Winston Churchill, certified badass

 

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Level 2: Talent Fee
Tax them for your effort.

I don’t like sitting around too much. It makes my bottom hurt, and I confess prolonged hours in front of the computer depresses me. I don’t know why, this is why I can’t enjoy an office job if I was ever given one. It makes me feel like my life didn’t move that day even if I’m sure it did.

Going through the charts and studying them one by one, comparing them, ranking them, double-checking them, planning them. It all takes effort and it will definitely make you sit down for hours. It’s necessary.

This shouldn’t go un-paid! Or atleast, I refuse to do so! Thinking like an entrepreneur will make you evaluate how much money you’re worth every hour. So tax the market, tax them for your effort, demand for your talent fee.

A 5% gain isn’t so bad. It’s commendable. Compare that to a 5% loss and you should know how a small number can decide to be your heaven or your hell. Like Kapitan Kidlat said, making 20 5% trades is also 100%.

I remember a quote saying 1+1 is 2, so is 0+2, and so is 3-1. The list goes on. What I’m saying is, how we do things can be different from others. Small, sure gains are as important as big single ones. In fact, there’s an added advantage of polishing your skills. With long term TF trades, I sit and observe. With this game plan however, I will repeatedly chart, enter, cut or take profit again and again until it becomes child play.

 

cool kid

 

Level 3: The Cool Kid
Don’t be the last one to leave the party or be caught dancing after the music stops.

The Cool Kid approach is trailing stops, you decide here. Above the 5% talent fee, but never way beyond after everyone left the disco. Having tight trail stops mean you’ll never get caught by the police once the neighbors start complaining from the noise, even if the police left anyway and the party still continued that night.

Remember, it doesn’t matter how much another person gained the same trade. There will ALWAYS be another winning trade. I haven’t been in this market a long time but I have seen atleast 10 “once in a lifetime” opportunities, being heavily advertised by the old devils running the place. Don’t fall for it. Trading is already a risky craft on its own, your discipline will be the ONLY thing you can count on to be safe.

One more thing: Don’t trust the poetic uncles trying to be cool promising you the moon and getting away with it through sheer humor and good camaraderie. 🙂

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Level 4: Sixth Sense

Those who bought at the bottom and sold at the top.

You can not have the sixth sense without the scars.

The nature of this is unexplainable. Did they know an insider secret? Maybe, but like I’ve written before, insiders cheat each other too. So how can they be so brave? So sure? So courageous?

It could be luck, it could be anything. It could be skills. Definitely a combination of both would make it work.
I’m hoping on good news though because I’d like to think that we can develop this. It’s almost like muscle memory, by the time you’ve seen enough charts, dedicated your time in it, been in the market for a while, you’ll know.

Luckily enough, I’ve seen Zee make enough mistakes to make me wonder. At first, I was surprised by the sheer amount of it, but I was more taken aback when I see him bounce like he never got hit at all. It makes me reflect how mistakes are a part of life. So boringly usual like the inevitable hot quiet afternoons of summer. This is how it is, we mustn’t take it too personally. This is just how the clock ticks. You sweat in summer, you freeze in winter, you lose some trades, your milk will expire, the queue beside you will move faster. Sounds terribly cliche but it’s true. I wish we, me specifically, could view mistakes as boring and as usual and as uneventful part of life. Instead, I see them as heartwrenching, time-stopping, earth-shattering periods of my life. Maybe it’s too much ego, but it definitely is too much worry.

I wish I could come to that point where mistakes excite me because it meant room for improvement.

One of the best TED talks I have watched talked about what Warren Buffet would invest in, and I specifically remember the third because I knew I had to work on that.

“Energy”

Energy, he said, is when you’re running on full speed, with your heart beating against your chest, and your clothes clinging against your body and then suddenly, you see a post fast approaching your line of direction. How quick do you move? How fast do you react? How fast do you pick yourself up? How quick do you adjust?

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Successful people, he said, aren’t those who didn’t make mistakes. Some people he knew would just wilt at the first sign of rejection. However, those who really made it, picked themselves up fast and then….

 

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have a go again.


 

MWIDE was an obvious choice for showing strength near the all time high.

Here are some of the charts I’ve sent Zee. Really simple but hey I’ve been asleep for a while now, and what’s the point in complicating?

I guess it would be for you to see how I make mine. I have no idea if it would help anyone, but here it is.

ath

 

 

think think

high probability set ups


 

The next day after WEB got suspended, they lifted the trading halt and resumed.

web trade starts

I wasn’t expecting much except for a bloody bullet against me. I’ve shut off social media so I woulnd’t know how terrible it was.

And that’s when Zee messaged again.

it didnt go to the floor

 

I wonder…

what’s going on? So I logged on.

day change

 

first reaction

Did you even see that coming?


 

Zee made 700,000 php that day so he’s celebrating with…

celebrate tayo

milk tea.

When the dust settled and I know we were all able to dodge a bullet, I’ve only really realized that he was willing to take that bullet for me.


The House Stands Strong

I told him I couldn’t get up one morning because my body is literally in so much pain. I felt like a cattle being escorted to my own death. I was clocking in almost 80 hours of work that week. I cried while fixing and then I half-scolded myself for the possibility of getting there late. For anyone who has never been under this kind of tremendous stress, you are blessed and I will never hope it to happen to anyone.

I was given heavy tasks reserved for senior positions even when they held off my promotion for a bad managerial call they made and they had made me answer for. Even any requests for transfer was barred.

Every after work, I come home almost totally useless. I couldn’t move aymore, I was too tired mentally and physically.

None of my trades have worked. I couldn’t watch them properly. My plan B was failing. I felt trapped in a life that was killing every self-respect I had or any hopes for a better future. I was turning into someone I wasn’t proud of.

I was becoming callous, angry, and unkind. Everything I didn’t want to become. I suffered for days on end, but I couldn’t quit and in my darkness, I felt shame. I was being beaten down to submission, I couldn’t fight back because I needed the money. I was starting to lose respect for myself. I started withdrawing from everyone.

you called for help

Alpha Centauri messaged, “Where are you? Do you need help?”

And then, a few more people did. Galahad. Arthur. Yumi. Bastards. “Are you okay?”

“How can I help?”

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And ofcourse Zee.

He never left. He was always there. He would talk to himself if necessary, if I didn’t have anything left inside of me to say anything to him.

“I’m tired,” I told him.

“I know.” He says gently. “I wish I could do something about it.”

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“I can’t anymore”

“Yes, you can.”

“I still believe in you.”

it's still you

The House stays strong.



you are filled with determination

Forevers Yours,

Celeste

“I’ll Fight”

I wanna see you run
Anywhere you want
Never let the darkness hold you back
No fear of getting lost

I wanna see you fly
Way beyond the sun
Anything you’re ever gonna dream
I pray that it will come

But if you ever fall down straight to the bottom
And you can’t get back where you started
Any place any time
You gotta know for you I’ll fight
(Ooh ooh, ooh ooh)

Where you wanna go
I’d love to take you there
Wish that I could make the road easy
I wish that life was fair
Don’t wanna see you cry
Even when it rains
And I hope you don’t forget this
You were born for better things

But if you ever fall down straight to the bottom
And you can’t get back where you started
With no strength to stand
I’m gonna reach for your hand
When the going gets rough right when it’s hurting
I will be there to help bear the burden
Any place any time
You gotta know for you I’ll fight
(Ooh ooh, ooh ooh)
Any place any time
You gotta know for you I’ll fight

Anywhere you go
You’re gonna find me
No matter what you need
If you ever fall down and you can’t get back
If you lose your strength to stand

If you ever fall down straight to the bottom
And you can’t get back where you started
With no strength to stand
I’m gonna reach for your hand
When the going gets rough right when it’s hurting
I will be there to help bear the burden
Any place any time
You gotta know for you I’ll fight
(Ooh ooh, ooh ooh)
Any place any time
You gotta know for you I’ll fight

Extra stuff:

bakit namanprankster quite arrogant

😀

Who are you, Celeste? And where have you been?

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I am art. I am divine. Breath taking, messy, and beautiful. The more you know me, my mind, what I have to say, the more I seem perplexing. One way or another, you have to stay around, because I grow, and I change, and in the pain of evolution- the in-betweens of constant awakenings- are my writings of the moments I live in.

I want to tell you that I lied to you sometimes and I’m sorry. When you messaged me and asked me, who are you? I’m from here, i’d tell you, most of the time it isn’t true.

I don’t mean to deceive, I only do what I do because in my cocoon I do not deserve to yet be called a butterfly. I don’t want to give you a face. I don’t want you to find out.

I don’t want you to remember me now as I am, the face of a tragedy. My battle scars. My uphill battle.

I want you to meet me when I have made sure through and through that you wouldn’t pity me, because despite the misfortunes, I believe myself to be a relentless force of nature. A miracle of sorts. The small annoying percentage of people who persists, and in the end, the universe will concede and say, “Okay.“.

I want you to see me as hope, not my struggle. And one day, I’ll tell you who I really am. One day, I can help you out too without guessing or feeling out of my depth with your questions because I really do, I really want to help you. I want to go home. I want you to go home. I want you to never worry if you can afford to be okay. I want us to be okay.

For now, I’ll let you know, I love the arts. I participate in it, and if you knew me and the way I’d like to live, my thoughts, my content, I am art too. I am music. I am paintings. I am the silent humming of your city drive at 2 am. I live in those moments, where I can be infinite and feel young.

Where I can be still and be present. Where I feel like I matter.

I know what to say when you needed someone to say something, because I know how to listen.

One day, we’ll meet and in that day, I’d thank you for believing in me even when I no longer believe in myself.

You are my hope. Thank you for never giving up on me.
Thank you for wondering where I’ve been.


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Where have you been?

I was gone. My boss was breathing down my neck. Office politics was poisoning me. Someone important died. I lost a lot of money.

I don’t want to make excuses but I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t keep up getting attacked from all sides.

I hated myself. I wanted to let go, run away from everything, forget it all happened. It doesn’t seem too bad, I’m young and if I want to start all over again, I could do so.

I said I’m going to be gone a month and then it kept going. I lost track on how long it’s been. I just know I tried to heal other parts of my life that seemed to be in disarray, because before I went off the radar I felt like everything– absolutely everything– was out of control.

“Are you giving up on me?”, He said.

No. I know I’ve been gone a long time, but can we try again? It’s been hard lately, and I hope yours have been easier.

But here I am, and I’ll try again. God help me.

I’m just a girl who dared to dream.

 

 

Forever yours,

Celeste

 

About the Girl: A verse of grief in proverbs

The truth is I didn’t think people would want to find out what’s going on, but I miss writing so much that I just can’t hold it any longer.

One time, I came across a vietnamese phrase called “Ba chim bay noi”, and if what I’ve read is correct, it literally translated to three sinks seven floats. It represented the wave of life, its thunderous splashes and soft ocean caresses. Life is like this, is it not? Mesmerizingly beautiful but deceitfuly murderous.

The devil, they said, will not come knocking at your door dressed as your biggest nightmare. Instead, the devil will stand there, looking sleek and charming, like every darn thing you will ever desire.

That is life for a while now, it’s been that way to me. So hypnotically cruel, championing itself against my defenses.


Takane No Hana

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The day I found out A died wasn’t a very significant day. There was nothing about that day that would have made me find out he was already gone. No sign and no heavenly signal.

I just saw someone post from his facebook the location of his interment. It was my lunch break and I was glad to be sitting down when I found out.

We were in college when we “met”. It was only over facebook. He was a student leader from a nearby university and I went to one of the more prestigious ones. We were acquianted by the same cause, campaigning online for a presidential candidate. We were both young, foolish, and idealistic. We thought we could convince the rest of the nation to listen to what we had to say through passionate remarks and sleepless nights of online debating. It was all so very silly. He saw my comment once so he messaged me, vented to me, admitted he had a crush on me and then we became friends.

I wasn’t taking anything seriously. It felt like it was just another one of the kiddie things people my age back then would do. We were all smitten with something whether it be a passionate cause or a cute girl.

I enjoyed talking to him though because he was funny and he was smart. He was always the one trying to connect to me. How are you? How have you been? Did you know..? One time… I’ve been…

So I learned about him. He loved watching documentaries, and he wanted to be a world renowned journalist, he likes cartoons, he loves food. He wanted to go back to school to take up Law.

I’d get into arguments with him.  I’d call him childish. He was always the first to say he’s sorry even when I was wrong.

A year after we met, he set up an entire website full of poetry and an animated video drawn, edited, voiced by him alone for my birthday. It must have taken him hours to do that.

The year after that, he drew a portrait of me in a large canvass filled with tiny doodles of motivational characters to keep me going. I was having a hard time and he knew about it. “I wanted to give this to you someday,” he said after sending me a picture of it. “Hang it on a wall near you, so when you wake up, you close your eyes, point somewhere and read something that would make you smile.”

The year after that, he shyly sent me a picture of his journal where he drew doodles on the date of my birth, saying one day he’ll want to take me out for coffee, travel with me, take photographs with me.

I asked him why not? And he told me, again and again, that he did not deserve me yet.


AAA loved life. He was the happiest kid on the block. It didn’t matter what happened, he was always happy. His hello was the kind that would vibrate his smile from the phone and would instantly make me smile too, from the other end of the line.

He made jokes, he made stories, and he writes beautiful essays too. If I were the the master of tragedy, he was the blissful counterpart.

He went around Manila doodling tiny little colorful monsters on brickwalls. He said it would make people smile. It was tasteful, almost New York-style quirky, and it was really pretty. He was that kind of guy.

His laugh always sounded like a mischievous laughter held on too long from trying not to laugh from a hilarious joke. I could never forget it– His happiness.

He was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer when he was 5 and he lost his father when he was around 8. Before that, he had to witness his mother get cheated on by his dad, by the time his father died, he had to change schools. His mother could no longer afford to send him to the expensive private university he was enrolled in but he never hated his father. He confessed that he only misses him. There was no trace of anger even when he watched his mother cry over his adultery.


After countless of 2 am emergency phone calls where we discussed about life and politics in our youthful bliss, he finally had the courage to tell me he loves me.

It was too late, by then, because I was already with someone else.

By that time, we already have stopped talking to each other too much. There were rare times where we did, but it was short and often immediately left cold. He made it clear that he still felt the same, but he knew the situation, and he knew his place.

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More than a year after that, he called me on the phone. “I saw you today! In front of Kenny Roger’s. You lost so much weight, you grew your hair. I ran away as fast as I could after. Inasar ako ng barkada ko, they all know about you. By that way, was that guy your boyfriend? He looked more like your bodyguard. I’m sorry I didn’t have the guts to say hi.”

I wish you said hi.


I cried to him one time when I was stressed at work. He always had a variety of techniques armed for every time I needed to cheer up. This time he told me to close my eyes and imagine, if I were a color what would I be? This color, he said, should be happy, this color should swarm the world with my warmth, that this color is surrounding me, like my aura, and every step I take, every person I touch, will have a piece of my color and it’s only me who could flood the world with that color and beauty.

“I’m blue today,” he told me. “Yesterday, I was green but I’ve decided I’m more of a blue than green… So, please, think about yours.”


Takane No Hana is a japanese phrase literally translated to “flower on high peak”. It means “unattainable object” or something or someone you desire but can not have.

I have always teased him, coaxed him, and talked to him. “If you really wanted me, why don’t you just take me out? You live so near my university.”

He would laugh the same way he always did. Care-free and honest, “Because I am not yet at that level where we could walk together and people won’t wonder why you were with me.”

I always wondered what he saw in me or why I was so high up in his pedestal. I didn’t think I deserved that. I never have. He said he had to prove so many things first– to himself. I thought he was worrying too much and I told him I don’t mind, but the more I didn’t, the more he did.

“Friends go out too.”, I told him.
“But I don’t want to be just friends.”


He told me he’s dating someone now and that he was completely taken by her. “She’s beautiful and lovely. She’s perfect.” I congratulated him ofcourse and we joked around about how he’s finally proven to his worrying mother that he isn’t actually gay. He started to contact me more, but whenever he hints of his feelings being more than platonic, I’d get uncomfortable. Eventually, after writing him a letter, I told him we can’t keep in contact anymore. It’s unfair for the people we were with, especially to his girl.

He would still message from time to time, telling me how he misses me and how something reminded me of him and I would ignore him or politely reply a thank you.

His last message was March this year. A music reminded him of me and he sent it to me. “I was thinking of you the entire time.” On instagram, he messaged too. “Tell me why the f* did we stop talking again?”

I didn’t know that the entire year of 2016 he was already battling cancer again. It recurred from all the stress he was going through. He took in 3 jobs at the same time, desperate to succeed.

By May, his body stopped producing his own blood. A little later on, his kidney shut down on him and water filled his lungs.

I did not know a single thing.

Before May was over, he was gone.


I immediately messaged his girlfriend, careful to introduce myself, and asked her.

“Is it true?”

“It is.”

“I only wanted to know one thing,” I told her. “Did he suffer?”

She didn’t reply for a long time, causing me so much pain. And when she did she said, “Yes, until his last breath.”


Upon the news of his death, there was an outpouring of emotions. He lived so shortly but the amount of people touched was immense. He was that kind of guy.

A group was formed to raise funds for his mother’s expenses, and he had a viral hashtag movement asking for everyone’s awareness. An official media news group made a post dedicated to his death. Every one expressed their grief.

No matter what I did, I coulnd’t understand how someone so alive could just die.

He flew in Tacloban, covering the aftermath. He was every where. He was directing his own documentary. He was starting to shoot his own TVCs. He had voice acting engagements.

Death should not touch someone who was so happy to be alive.

And yet he did.

Why him? Why not me? I was knee-deep in my misery and misfortune that I asked for it. I was sad, and angry, and it took a lot of effort to keep me laughing. I was rejecting the world, I’ve stopped enjoying the sunshine while he continued to make poems out of it. Why not me instead?

When I asked that we stop talking, I told him I’m sure one day we’ll see each other on the top, both being courageous and ambitious, there must be one day where we’ll run the world.

I didn’t know it wouldn’t happen anymore, because he was gone too soon.

My world crumbled. I wish I could have said goodbye. I wish I didn’t cruelly reject all his messages of reaching out to me. I wish I had more time. I wish we had some coffee. I wish he wasn’t so afraid.

thorea

No language spoken can ever aptly understand or relay into something concrete the vast abstract cut of emotions I felt. He was gone. Heaven, I pray, needs to be real. He needs to hear some more things I didn’t say.


Dear A,

I’m still the color of yellow-orange but on the day I found out you were gone, I was almost suffocated by your blue.

Every day now, it’s still here. Your blue in a world I try to fill with my orange.

Forever yours,

Celeste

The music he sent me on March 2016.

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