Scribbler Jez

It's All Soul's Day.

Let me share a piece, something we never knew we desired.

This is for the heart that longs for something it cannot quite grasp.

For the quiet yearning that lingers between memory and absence, for the ache of what once was, and the warmth that time could never erase.

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SEARCHING THE SILENCE

In the quiet spaces between moments,
we listen for echoes.
Not the sharp, immediate sounds,
but the faint traces of things once felt—
love once known, identities once worn, memories that slip through our fingers like sand.

We are often left searching
for fragments of ourselves,
for whispers of those we’ve loved,
for dreams abandoned in the rush of life.

What is it that lingers?
What calls us back to places we’ve left behind?

In every loss, something remains.

Echoes—those faint,
distant reverberations of time—
hold stories of what we’ve lost and
what we may still find.

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Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

WHERE THE HEART REMEMBERS

— — — x

I chance upon a post dito sa facebook about how magical the heart is. It may be an organ, but it feels, something Science couldn't explain. It remembers, something the brain should, right? So, I came up with a piece na nilagay ko sa Note ko. Here it goes.

— — — x

"Do you find this place familiar?”

That was the first thing I asked her after bringing her here.

She looked at me—stared for a while. Slowly, tears began to form in her eyes.

In her slightly raspy voice, she said,
“Yes. This is where I used to wait for your father when he came home from work.”

“It’s not familiar anymore—not the same as it was before. But I still remember the old rhythm of life I once knew.”

I got my answer. I smiled at her.

“Yes, it is. It may no longer be the same, but it lives on in your heart that cherishes it. Your mind may have failed you, but your heart remembers the footprints.”

This is the path she once knew—the dusty road she had grown accustomed to walking with my father. But when death took him away, and her memory began to fade, her heart did not fail her. It remembered the place, the love, and the quiet echo of the life they once shared.

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

...aaand that's it. Di ko naituloy yung piece na Whisper it to the Waves on the Shore at hanggang Letter 5 lang sya. For the meantime, magpost nalang ako ng random thoughts, short short stories (like flash fiction or something), or poems na nagawa ko.

LETTER 5: To the Tides That Brought You Close

I remember meeting you through online games.

Online games were our niche—the tide that brought you close to me.

It all started with occasional team-ups in classic or ranked games. Minimal interactions became frequent, until they became constant. We exchanged socials so we could easily contact each other when we wanted to play, instead of relying on the chance that we’d both be online at the same time.

Exchanging socials changed everything. We played together more often, and our conversations became longer and more personal.

We talked about random things.

Our conversations led to feelings—feelings that developed naturally, like how the tides change direction when the wind touches them.

It was a novel feeling—trusting someone online, confiding in them, and eventually falling in love.

But just as the wind changes the tides, so too did the feelings that developed between us.

I thought I would stay in that happy place forever. But I was wrong.

A few months into our relationship, your conversations with me became dull. You were often irritated by small things, angry with me for no apparent reason.

I had entrusted my heart to you, knowing how fragile it was. Yet you broke it with your own hands.

I tried to deal with your mood swings and your anger, which was always directed at me. Then I started noticing you online in the game, but you never invited me to play anymore—not once.

One day, I took the initiative to join your game lobby. To my surprise, you were happily chatting with someone you claimed was just your best friend, even though earlier you had been angry at me for reasons I still didn’t understand.

I let it slide because I have close friends too, and I know how valuable those relationships can be. I understood.

But then, you crossed the line.

I accidentally came across your conversation with her. The trust we once shared, when we exchanged passwords for our socials, now felt like a cruel joke.

I never visited your accounts, even though I knew your password. I respected your privacy.

I should have known better.

The time you were angry at me was the same time you were happily chatting with her, exchanging sweet messages and “I love yous.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know what to do.

What did you expect from me?
To stay even though I was hurting terribly?
To ignore the red flags?
To just let it pass?

No. No.
That’s enough.

Enough trying to understand your moods and why you were angry.
Enough apologizing when I didn’t even know what I had done wrong.
Enough drowning in these feelings.

You cheated on me. Maybe it was a “one-time thing” for you, but for me, it was more than that.

It was the trust I built, the love I freely gave, and the time I invested in you—all gone, like the footprints in the sand we once left behind.

I once thanked the heavens for the tides that brought you close to me. But now, I hope those same tides carry you far away.

Yours truly,
Alon

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

LETTER 4: To the Waves that Never Rest

Dear You,

Do you know that when my mind and heart are restless, I go to the seashore and gaze at the horizon? Watching the waves calms my thoughts. The sea breeze soothes my soul.

It's my safe place. My haven I will always choose when I'm dreary. A comfort place when I'm too fed up with my parents nagging and high expectations.

I often wonder, why are they like that? Did they experience the same growing up? Were they pressured by their own parents the way they pressure me? Were they burdened by the same expectations, the same constant criticism, and the same harsh punishments when they failed, even a little?

Are they, perhaps, products of generational trauma? Have they unconsciously or consciously passed down the pain they endured as teenagers, now inflicting it on me?

It’s strange to me, you know. Growing up, I didn’t see much love or care. It was always about what I should do.
“You should do this.”
“You should do that.”
“You should be better, if not the best.”

It was always about meeting expectations—following the rules, even if it went against what I wanted or aspired to be.

A small mistake was met with a slap in the face, relentless scolding, and words that cut deep, telling me how worthless I was.

It planted seeds of insecurity, piling up negative emotions until they felt ready to explode.

It led to low self-esteem and the constant, haunting question:
Am I not enough?

It pushed me to build impossible expectations for myself, believing I had to be the best. And when I strayed even slightly from the perfect path, I blamed myself over and over again.

But I’ve come to realize this mindset is a trap. It blinds you—like it blinded me—to the truth:
I don’t need anyone else’s validation.
I don’t need to be the best.
I don’t need to prove my worth to anyone.

Because I am already worthy.

I am worthy because He gives me my worth. It comes from Him, and nothing can take that away.

Yes, I may be a product of generational trauma inflicted by my parents. But I want to be the breaker—the healer who ends it.

For now, though, let me quiet my thoughts.

Let me lay it all down—to the waves that listen, to the waves that never rest.

Sincerely,
Alon

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

LETTER 3: To the Shore That Held Our Footprints

Dear You,

You were like my safe haven knowing that I just came from a toxic relationship. You were there, because you were basically in my circle of friends, when I'm still navigating my life toward what's important and more meaningful than heartbreak—happiness.

Maybe I can consider ourselves, childhood friends. Knowing that we were classmates since elementary and basically bonded with the same circles.

You were always there for me.
I guess that's the reason why I fell.
I fell for your companionship, your time, your effort.

Long story short, when you courted me I did not make it more difficult for you and you heard my answer of yes on that shore, the very shore that witnessed our sweet moment. The shore that held the footprints of our memories.

But I can’t understand—what’s wrong with boys and their relationships?

Yes, I'm calling you a boy, because you were never man enough to say it to me face to face, that you wanted out. That you weren't satisfied with our relationship anymore.

It feels like you just wanted to satisfy your ego, to prove you could make me say yes, only to leave me hanging and hurting for another girl.

Girl's intuition, a powerful secret weapon indeed.

I knew something was wrong. There's something going on because we attended different schools when we were in Senior High School and what we have when we don't meet during holidays or sembreaks is through communicating in messenger or text. My gut kept telling me something was off.

And I was right.

You cheated on me—twice—with the same girl you know in your school. The girl you said was “just a friend.” The same girl who messaged and called you “mahal.”

I was devastated. I was hurt. I confronted you, and you promised and confirmed that you would stop, that you both would stop. But that's not enough promise and confirmation for my firm decision that I wanted out.

I did it. I left. I walked away from a relationship that hurt me and manipulated me into believing you were “the one.”

But even though I got out, why did it still feel like I lost in this game called love?

Before my first boyfriend, you were my crush. A crush that blossomed from elementary to high school. But fate had other plans, and you didn’t become my first boyfriend. You were, however, my first love.

Now, the love we shared is like a faded photograph—a relic of the past.

Our memories together will be nothing more than footprints in the sand. When the waves come, they will be washed away, erased as if they never existed.

Yours truly,
Alon

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

LETTER 2: To The Wind That First Carried Your Name

Dear You,

I remember the time where my life is simple as it is. New friends to meet, life's baggage I always carry but it tends to lighten because of companionship, family's love and other positive things that surrounds me.

I was a simple guy juggling my life between school, friends online, whom I've met through online games, and the life in between those things. I've met you in an unexpected way. We were friends. Right? We are in the same circle of online friends with diverse backgrounds and personalities.

You did the first move. I know I'm a straight guy, always have been. At least, that’s what I believed. But why can't I dictate my heart to stop beating and be carried away by your persistent effort to be with me?

It is that whispered wind that first carried your name that made me surrender my heart to you.

Was it love in the wrong place, at the wrong time?
Or was it love at the right place, at the right time?

Maybe it was neither—or both.
Love in the wrong place, and at the wrong time.
That’s how we ended up.

What happened to us?

The persistent effort you gave, after months of being together you became cold. I remember flying to the place near you, it was our school tour, and of course just to meet you. It is your birthday remember? What did I get? What did I find?

A stranger. A cold person. Someone I don't know and is not familiar with.

You said you were not ready despite being the person who did the first move.
YOU SAID YOU WERE NOT READY, but you did not ask if I am too.

I doubted my identity because of you.

I begged for you to stay.
Do you want me to come to you in bended knees, for you to acknowledge my effort? For you to spend time for me? I always beg for your care, love and time. I poured everything into us, but you gave so little or none at all in return. Until then, I got drained.

I began questioning myself—why?
Did knowing me more make you love me less? Was it something about who I was?

We broke up on November 19 but I have to carry on and maneuver my life again.
When it's so heavy and I can't navigate the life I wanted for a moment, I broke down.
The pent up heartaches, the overwhelming emotions, I cried it out on December 1.

You can applaud me for being brave, something I never demanded from you.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it’s this: Never doubt yourself when it comes to love.

Love has no boundaries—not gender, not labels, not expectations. We all have the capacity to love and be loved, no matter what.

I cherished being with you while it lasted. .

Sincerely,
Alon

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

LETTER 1: To The One I Cannot Name

Dear You,

I’ve tried so many times to bury these words—
to leave them somewhere the wind could carry them far from me,
but here I am, writing to you again.

They say the ocean holds secrets, and so I’ve decided to entrust you to it. Every time the waves crash against the shore, I hope they erase a little of what I feel—because the truth is, I have been holding on to the "what-ifs" longer than I should.

What if you stayed?
What if I had been braver?
What if we had met at a different time, a different season?

I will whisper it to the waves: "I miss you." Not just the you who shared conversations under the moonlight, but the you who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I miss the quiet moments that felt like they held universes.

But the shore reminds me of something, too.
That no matter how fiercely the waves return, they will always pull away again—
like you, like us.

So tonight, I will sit by the edge of the water. I will tell the ocean about you. I will whisper the things I can no longer say, the things you will never hear. And when the tide carries them away, I will let you go.

Sincerely,
Alon

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

PRELUDE

There's always something appealing about the sea, the ocean. It can be your solace if you are burden-heavy, the listener that never turns away when you want to shout or whisper your heartaches, regrets, love, and hopes lost. The sea makes you feel that you belong. That amidst this chaotic world, there's one place you can own.

The ocean doesn’t demand words; it understands the language of silence, the weight of unsaid things. Its waves don’t judge—they take your whispers and carry them far away, dissolving them into the endless blue. Standing before it, you are both infinitely small and boundlessly significant. It teaches you to let go, to breathe, to remember that even the strongest storms pass, leaving the shore renewed.

Let the waves listen to your whispered letters.

Disclaimer: This is the work of Scribbler Jez . Do not copy.

WHISPER IT TO THE WAVES ON THE SHORE

This is the title of my supposed entry on the January Writing Challenge. It is about the whispered unsent letters to someone.

Sharing to you the logline, the blurb, and dedication.

LOGLINE:

Through a series of letters whispered to the waves, a heartbroken soul unravels their deepest longings, unspoken regrets, and quiet hopes, finding solace in the rhythmic tides of the shore as they learn to let go and start anew.

BLURB:

Whisper It to the Waves on the Shore is a poignant collection of letters—raw, intimate, and unfiltered—addressed to the ocean, the only listener who never turns away.

Inspired and based on the true story of different people, each letter unravels a narrative of love lost and the painful journey toward letting go. As the waves carry away whispered confessions and quiet dreams, healing begins to flow like the tides—slowly, gently, yet surely.

DEDICATION:
For anyone who has ever loved, lost, and longed for release, this is a testament to finding peace where endings meet beginnings.

Let the waves listen. Let the heart heal.

Disclaimer: This entry is the work of Scribbler Jez. Do not copy.

So this is what it feels like—letting go of someone while it hurts inside.

I firmly believe I am protecting my peace and my heart from heartbreak, not realizing that I am deliberately creating one for myself.

Cheers to the memories. Cheers to the time. Though an ache lingers inside, life goes on.