When I started writing articles (I call literary works of arts.) thirteen years ago I wanted to personify myself. I will describe the moments of extreme loneliness to the dying sunset or happiness to moonwalk or whatever words or figures enter my mind at the time of writing. Childhood dreams and frustrations added with questions why faith or science exist dictates the flow of emotions or mindset on the pen.
I wanted to portray myself in a different persona, perspective or thought. My writings are about me, my The First Filipino Astronaut world or the people I am with but that does not mean that what I wrote is what really happened. Lest I am mistaken for my writings or other mistook it to be real. But it remains to be fiction unless otherwise stated.
I have been living in dreams in many years, and its remnants continue to haunt me. Maybe a by result of reading many weird things as a habit separates me from doing what a “normal” teenager does. I got the habit of enjoying time for myself, and it has greatly contributed in me successfully creating my own world of illusions and make believes sometimes mistaken as reality.
I write because I wanted to be heard. They say picture can paints a thousand words but writings can preserve history since my story is my history in the making.