Delectable Dee

Weight loss
I went to the doctor today and had a check-up and underwent a series of physical exams and I'm very pleased to see that I actually lost  31 lbs! Now, the weight loss has become something more than just a blur of speculations. Yay!!! I went 2 sizes smaller. I'm down to size out 12! I have my eyes on you!

The gift of life
I was waiting for my food and I was sitting alone trying to get lost inside my thoughts. But the place was bursting with people and everybody was busy talking and laughing. But I didn't find the noise intrusive but rather, at that moment, sounded like a mosaic of different voices - a harmony. The music of life.

Blooming flowers
I went out early today to look at the plants and was greeted by three dainty and beautiful white roses. They were so pretty, I just had to take a picture of them. Everyday, God sends us blessings to grace our lives with beauty and we just have to know where to look. Sometimes, we complain even before we open our eyes.


I have made a decision that I'll be posting 3BTs everyday (if possible). I believe that it'll make me appreciate life more as an undeserved gift from God, helping me cultivate a thankful heart. And should times come where storms blow and try to knock down and trample on my spirit, I'll have a list of daily things to remind me how blessed my life has always been and giving up or losing hope and faith is never an option.




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Silhouette of tombs, Murcia Cemetery
Negros Occidental, Philippines



When I die, I want my friends and family to see the thin single line dashed between my birth date and the day I died. In that little line, there lies the story of my life; how I cried, laughed, fell in love, got hurt, was betrayed, won a friend, shattered a bond of trust, renewed a broken friendship...where I truly lived.

The dash in our tombstones are worth celebrating. They are worth living our lives to the fullest. Don't hold out the best in hopes of saving it for "special occasions"  for your life is the special occasion. Live it.


You ask me why I am melancholic.
It is because my Love,
paradise is not Paradise
without You.



I have heard and read several times ago that we humans love "because" while God loves "in spite of". Now, it would be too purely hypocritical for us to say that we don't love "because". We always love because.

I am not saying that there is something wrong with that. The key words there aren't "because" or "in spite of" anyway but rather, love. I just think that we're wired like that. We love because.

I have always thought that humans are naturally greedy. Some of us with sense and decency will fight the urge to want more and to have more all our life. We try to be selfless and to give and appreciate the simple things in life. If it's not in simplicity, then perhaps we can settle in moderation. But we try not to be too greedy.

But when we're all alone and lost in our thoughts, who's to deny that we do crave and covet for things (that may not actually make sense to other people) that appeal to us and to our senses? But for all the things we all selfishly hunger for, the most noble of them is love.

I think, love is the only thing we selfishly desire but that in sincerity makes us selfless in return.

And since I am human and most carnally so, I love you because you love me. I love you because in spite of all my flaws and scars, you still choose to love me. Because you saw me when I was just a blur to the rest of the world. Because when you embraced me, you also embraced my sins and didn't flinch away. Because I see myself beautiful in your eyes. Because you made me believe that I am broken yet beautifully and perfectly so. Because you are real. Because your love rains on my dry and parched up soul. Because you make me laugh and have never made me cry. Because I know I am the world to you. Because I know you'll give up everything for me. Because robbed of everything and anything, I know you'd still love me and lovingly so.


I am surrounded by unbelievers and I have long ago given up trying to explain because the mind will go mad trying to understand what the heart refuses to see.

Because the world will hardly ever understand.

I have wrapped you in utmost care with silken threads of my dreams and have hidden you close by, where only the mystical glimmer of sunsets light your every soul. There, you age with miracles and you bath along the twilight of the dawn. You are constantly washed in fervent desire and fidelity so old and faithful, the wind serenades the trees with its song. Your every step lands a prismatic glow of showers to the throbbing hopes of my iridescent dreams. your breath binds me to you in a glorified bondage, surreal and ethereal.

Because you came along and lit up my monotonous life of dull gray and bleak white, painting sunshine anywhere your sweet caresses would land. Golden hues and blazing bronze, everything in a splash of sheer magnificence.

And because, my Love, the world will never understand, let us and let us love.


"Why must you feel the need to hide?" she asked. "Are you still constrained about letting out what you truly feel? I've been reading your everyday rants for the past five years."

"I don't want you to read me." I said.

"What do you mean? If you don't want people to read them, then why publish them?"

"That question answers your question earlier, spot on!" and I tried to contain a familiar smile behind the screen.

"But you're not stopping. You're merely just hiding...even running away." she protested. "If you don't intend to come back again, why not just shut down your site?"

"I wouldn't ask you to forget a first kiss nor the memory of his first breath when it caressed your nape. How can you suggest something so revolting and forbidden?"

"I don't understand you."

"I know." I said, my thoughts swimming with the memory when we first met in person, two years ago.

"Why would you write when nobody will read them?" she asked (and rather densely, I thought).

"Because my dear, I don't write for people to be entertained. I write because I am."

I cannot, on most times, understand why she couldn't understand my reasons. Maybe my reasons were similar to hers when she once told me to stop "stalking" her just because I accidentally stumbled upon her "secret site". I had no idea it was hers.

She's been "reading" my life religiously for the past 5 years now and I, hers. Yet, I have come to know her during the time and I find it rather quite disappointing to know that reading is all that she's been doing all these years.

I don't want people to read me. My life is not a book. I write because I want to claim the right to tell the story of how my life is, in MY own eyes, and how I felt like, while living my life. As an egotistical writer, I must admit, I love to hear feed backs about what people think of with what I write but as a soul, I don't need someone to tell me I have a good way of stitching up words.

My words, they are a refuge, an attempt to define the undefined, to reach what cannot be reached, to breathe out what chokes my heart.

I write because I live. And because I am not a master of time. I grow old and I forget. I am emotional and I feel too strongly about things a little too much, at times. I write because I know life is fleeting and I want to remember. Amongst all the other things, I write because I am a confused girl with longings and wild vivid imaginations. I write because more often than what I'd like it to be, my heart is much, much bigger than my mind and I cannot contain everything at the same time.

How easy to lose sight of passion and life when along with them, embraces longing and dreams. How easily are our visions blurred.

We could both be looking at the same picture and yet have very different focal views.