all i wanted to do was buy some cigarettes.

As if the heart didn't already ache enough, she walked out of the school building with reddish skies overhead. At nine o'clock in the morning. The streets were wet and the rain refused to stop itself from falling from the sky. (She loves the rain, yes, but at that certain moment she did not feel a certain ounce of love for it.) She walked in the cold night and hailed a jeepney. She felt safer, just a little. She got off the jeep after two minutes along the darkened Estrada Street. She walked passed by a building, dark with the stomach-tightening smell of urine flowing in the air. She made it through as she walked closely behind a group of students. Taft Avenue, finally.

She walked down the road and saw a bus approaching. She hailed it as it came towards. her. Apparently, the world decided to turn against her as the bus sped off. Just like that. Her trusted, most loved Tas Trans did not love her back. And the drops of rain pouring from the infinite sky doubled in size. Her skirt was slowly getting soaked and her bare legs could not escape the furious rain. She has never felt so cold and so alone. The darkness of the night loomed over her.

The rain finally subsided. She stopped at a safer spot, in front of a well-lit building, and waited for a bus to arrive. Loneliness swept over her [as it did most nights she walked alone] and she fought hard to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She was alone, lonely, vulnerable. An unfortunate soul, on the verge of giving up. She let the tears flow freely down her cheeks, each drop containing frustration, anger. Loneliness. The world really was turning against her. She's given nothing but her best, hasn't she? What good were her achievements and worldly rewards? They were no use for fixing up broken lives. They are just little temporary patches -- ones that make you feel good for some time, but fades and harldly lasts long enough to keep you going. How does one decipher such a life?

Her world has long-since crumbled; her grace has fallen. She tries, with all her might, to keep her grasp on faith. "This is just a challenge to become stronger," she tells herself countless of times. But even that simple reminder failed to convince her. She's hit rock-bottom -- the part where she struggles to get back up again hasn't even begun yet.

She's finally come home at eleven o'clock in the evening. She creeps into her bed and cries herself to sleep.

You know, she loves life.
She just doesn't love hers.