Honestly, I’ve always found the idea of having your own blog fascinating: you can speak your mind, you can inspire people, blahblahblah. But who really wants to read an amateur blog from the eyes of a 15 year old? I certainly wouldn’t from the knowledge of knowing that teenagers are absolutely unworldly, but I can’t really say anything either. Instantaneously, I have finally decided to give it a shot, and hopefully, I’ll love it even more than the idea. 

Life isn’t always grand, so don’t expect some exciting update every time I post. It’s just not the way life is, but I do know for a fact, that you will be entertained by the life of this 15-year old. Hopefully.






Having friends wasn’t the easiest thing for me, but it wasn’t the hardest either. I had experienced a lot of loss concerning friends, but luckily, I now have great, loving friends that I know will always be by my side.

But, unfortunately, I have just experienced an act of betrayal. During middle school, it was a scary time for me – older kids, tougher classes, and more responsibility. It was a lot, and it didn’t help that I went to one of the most famous middle schools in my state, and it wasn’t for a good reason. This school was absolutely terrifying for me. I knew nobody, for my elementary was in a different zone, and my shy and quiet attitude did not cater to me in the least. But, through that time in 6th grade, I had actually found a good group of friends that I really care about. To this day, I still do for most, and few I don’t even communicate with.

This experience happened a year ago. One of the many in my group of friends that I cared for probably the most betrayed me. Although I may sound extremely dramatic right now, I feel like I’m really not. They were my best friend, all the way from 6th grade to 8th, yet I still ended up hurt.

About a week ago, I was talking them, and as usual, we talked about many things, ranging from cute people to some old (they aren’t even that old) 6th grade memories when suddenly, I got a message on Instagram. Of course, me not really getting messages or notifications at all, is eager. It was from an old middle school acquaintance that I saw quite a lot, but didn’t really share things as they were just simple hello’s. I was confused, but I clicked on the message anyways and was greeted by screenshots after screenshots. There were so many. I clicked the first, my heart dropping by each message that were sad to say, not coming from the middle school acquaintance. As I read through every single screenshot and message, my heart broke little by little, and my tears couldn’t stop flowing from my eyes.

After the screenshots, there was a message sent by my acquaintance: “I’m sorry.” with a sympathetic emoji.

The screenshots dated back to 7th grade, meaning that my best friend had done all of this for almost two years.

The screenshots and messages weren’t the most saddening part though – it was me, cherishing and caring and loving and devoting this person to the point where I didn’t even have enough love for myself. I simply felt empty. Not a single ounce of my body felt all right, and knowing me, I knew I wasn’t going to feel all right for awhile.

This person, who I shared all of my secrets to. This person, who I felt happy around. This person, who could truly make me feel like myself just by being in their presence. This person who ruined my life.

People learn through lessons and experiences, and this specific experience was definitely a major one in my life. We may get hurt and beaten down to the point where we feel as if the world has just ended, but now it’s jokes on them because what we get in return is much greater than being broken. At first, I was being your stereotypical “teenager”: staying in my room all day, talking to barely anyone, and giving away fake, painful smiles. But in the end, although it hurt so so much, I still ended that cold war with myself, with a huge smile.

growing up

Many claim that finding yourself is during high school, but that’s not it. Finding yourself takes your whole life. High school is about exploring – the beginning of truly finding yourself.

I don’t know who I am yet; it’s even possible that I will never know, but I’m on the pathway this very instant.

Finding yourself leads to growing up and growing up comes with responsibilities. Growing up can be a very very cruel thing – no more believing in fairytales, no more having your parents buy you things, no more getting what you always want. It’s part of life and it’s unfortunately inevitable. But growing up can also be a very positive thing – learning life lessons, meeting new people, finding true passions. These are the things I’m most definitely excited for. But these things take time and patience. Now don’t get me wrong, listening to a teenage girl isn’t the most useful resource for advice, but take it from me. Although I can’t predict the future nor can I really say things I’m not quite sure of yet, I know (somehow). I know that even though there will be obstacles and stepping stones I’ll have to overcome in order to achieve my goals, I also know that if I believe and try hard enough, I can and will do it. 

This is also an example of growing up: obstacles and stepping stones. No matter what age you are, there will be something you will have to learn to overcome, even if it’s trying to move up to the next level in a videogame in a day or paying your monthly bills or heck, even learning how to use an iPhone because my grandparents certainly don’t know how.

It’s part of growing up and life, and by achieving it, you’ll learn what it takes to live life just like the way you want it to. 


the supernatural

The word “supernatural” comes from the latin word supernaturalis, meaning beyond natural. The supernatural has been speculated for many, many years and we have yet to identify or have unmistakable knowledge about it. It has grown worldwide as it is seen everywhere: tv shows, movies, books, etc. We have almost no clue on what these supernatural beings may be, yet we produce them into a form of entertainment and lessons.

Everything about the supernatural is so intriguing to me, it’s unreal. Since the day I’ve heard about Count Dracula, I couldn’t help but look up the actual history and background of him. In fact, they say that he is actually based on Vlad the Impaler, the notorious ruler of Wallachia of the 15th century. Vlad the Impaler was known for his infamous method of torture. Many, if not all of his victims were impaled by large stakes rising from the ground. Eventually, many became thousands as the outside of his kingdom were filled with fields of impaled bodies.

If somebody like Vlad the Impaler is actually and certainly real, why aren’t the supernatural real? Or maybe they are and they don’t want to be discovered. I mean – if I wasn’t a part of the natural world of human beings, I certainly would not want to be either. 

Not only is the supernatural quite common to know about, it’s common seeing people actually make money off of it, and it’s incredibly ridiculous. Although I do like to immerse myself in shows like “Ghost Adventures” and “Fact or Faked?”, I do know that most are not real and that they are all in fact, faked. It’s sad to see humans making a mock of things that they are supposedly not afraid of without actual knowledge of what they are hoping to “discover”. And they make money off of it.

Knowing that things like this turned into things like the supernatural, fascinates me. The supernatural is not a force to be reckon with; it is not something you should play around with. It is not a joke.

But now, many find it to be. Things such as vampires, ghosts, witches, and even mermaids are yet to be discovered, but things are just not meant to be. Although a lot have a great interest in the supernatural, I find that some things are just not supposed to be fathomed. We say that we understand, but do we really? Do we know if these are actually real, or have we just made these things up in order to grasp the knowledge of knowing that something so unreal can be real?


summer school

DSC09775Today was my first day of summer school and I both literally and figuratively hated it – no, loathed it. Yes, I do know that it’s only my first day, but seriously, I don’t think I can take anymore of it. Before you assume things, no I did not fail any classes. For me, summer school is my pathway to graduating early.

It’s relieving to know that I’ll be able to graduate one year earlier, but it definitely takes a toll on both my body and mind. Just signing up and knowing the basic outline of summer school gives me an aching headache. But knowing that it will all become better at the end, relieves me even more.

Summer school is not great. It’s not the Breakfast Club, which I sort of did hope it was going to be like, since I was being put in a class full of people that unfortunately did not pass this class. It was not like the scenario where a bunch very stereotypical teenagers were to be put in a room, which resulted in “being friendly” afterwards. I couldn’t be any more wrong.

First, the teacher. She’s alright. She says that she has worked at numerous behavioral schools, which I have no clue if that was supposed to scare us or warn us or what because I certainly was not intimidated. This specific teacher was like any other ordinary teacher there was: trying to act as if she “understood” us teenagers and did not sign up for (I apoligize for my language) bullshit. Literally, the first thing she did was start writing the agenda on the white board, and looked at us with the expression of ‘are you just going to sit there and watch me?’ That message clearly did not work, for nobody took out a piece of paper or pencil, including me.

Don’t get me wrong. I love teachers. They’re the best. I mean – they spend their precious time teaching a bunch of hoodlums every day, while getting paid for a lesser wage. It’s not an easy job, it doesn’t look like it is at least, but I really do not get how they could even spend an hour with whiny kids that feel like they’re the (Again, I apoligize for the language) shit. Please enlighten me why.

Next, the hours. Those dreadful, boring hours. Summer school is 5 hours. Normal public school is 6 HOURS. There is absolutely no difference between the two. What’s even worse is the fact that you are getting taught the same exact subject for that amount of time. Yes, there is a break – a 15 minute one, but you’re not even allowed to scatter around and meet up with friends or socialize. It is mandatory to stay outside your classroom and hang around there until the bell rings. And they say that socializing comes with going to school. Yeah, right.

I’m sorry if I just seem way too triggered right now because I am.

And last, but DEFINITELY not the least, the students. You think your school has the most annoying students? Think again. Not only are there students from my school attending my actual school, there are also students from all around the state that has come to earn their credit that they have utterly and completely failed before. The level of maturity from the students from my high school is one of the many reasons why I chose the pathway of graduating early. It sounds ridiculous, but I seriously cannot stand a year longer with these people. I just cannot relate to them in anyway. And I know that I still am a kid/teen just like them and I’m probably just as knuckle-headed as they are, but I just don’t know what I’d do if I were to be there a year longer.

I apoligize if this post seems too rushed. I needed to get this out not for the sake of writing purposes, but also because I just needed an outlet right now to pour my feelings and emotions into. 


In order for a writer to engage his/her/their readers, you must know something about them (even if it’s about having a fetish with feet). Just so you know, I do not have a fetish with feet, and have no desire in having one at all. 


If you have no idea what the mbti test is, take it. The test tells what type of person you are through the choices you make as you answer the questions. It’s pretty interesting and very spot on. 

I am a Campaigner, and I couldn’t help but be taken back by the accuracy the test had. It was kind of mind blowing.

Now, I do not want to go in depth of my personality result, just because it is sort of awkward to me to write how “free-spirited” I am.


It sounds cliche because – I mean, who isn’t a vegetarian or vegan nowadays, but today marks my one year anniversary of being one.

I enjoy being a vegetarian – I enjoy it a lot. Being a vegetarian feels as if not only am I saving an animal’s life, but also influencing others to take account of what the many downfalls that has happened and will continue to happen if we do not make a change. Respecting other’s choices and perspectives is so important, so I am not by any means forcing or will force into being a vegetarian. It’s up to you to decide whether you want to make a difference in the world. (I promise this is not an ad.)

Being a vegetarian is not easy. First, since my body could not get the proper proteins and nutrients, I stuck with eating so much beans, nuts, and cheese – and yes, I do for a fact, know that cheese come from an animal so it still practically counts. I am not a vegan yet, but I do plan on working on it. My parents did suggest the idea of trying out “fake meats”, but honestly, I was not thrilled about that.

Often, I got scolded from family members telling me that I was already skinny enough and that I didn’t need to go on a “diet”. But it wasn’t a diet to me; it was helping the world by helping make a change because truthfully, we are destroying it. My grandpa was actually the one that didn’t really support my eating lifestyle, and because of him being such an important person in my life, it affected my decisions greatly and I almost started eating meat again. But, I do think he realized it was a part of me so he eventually gave up, knowing that I was truly passionate about this, and continues to send me messages, reminding me to eat before I do my homework.

Second, it depends on your culture. It’s already hard enough getting used to not eating meat, but getting used to not eating kare-kare? It was definitely a challenge. I come from a Filipino background with a parent from the Philippines and another from Guam, so that meant that I ate Filipino food every single day. I was totally okay with it though. As I soon started my new eating lifestyle, it was hard – very hard, but I always remembered the billions and billions of animals we took the life of, and soon it felt natural to me.

Last, being a vegetarian is not cheap. This was the only thing that about stopped me from being a vegetarian. I was, and still am the only person in my family that only eats veggies so you could see how tough it was. When my parents went on a grocery trip every two weeks or so, they always had money saved for me especially. Of course, I felt bad, but they assured me that they supported whatever I chose.

Overall, this was a very very significant decision I chose, and I couldn’t be any happier with it. 


Music is the universal language – no doubt about it. It’s everywhere, and will always be everywhere. Not only is music so ridiculously amazing to the point where you can’t even explain it in words, but it speaks to the soul. Many say that you can never relate to others unless you’re in their shoes, but that’s exactly how it feels like when you listen to this beautiful thing known as music.

Music influences everything. It influences the way we act, the way we speak, the way we think, the way we present ourselves, – everything. Not only does it reflect ourselves, but it is also a form of communication. Our way of talking to one another, even though we have no clue what we’re saying. That’s why music is the universal language. It speaks to each and every one of us. 


I wouldn’t call myself a photographer. I still have a lot to learn, and it was recently when I’ve found this passion. I was never one to like taking pictures, or be in pictures at all. I was the type to “live in the moment” and whatnot, but I’ve soon found out why many found photography entertaining. 

It was actually my auntie and uncle that helped me find my passion. December was the month they brought me along on their breathtaking at more than two national parks. It was so beautiful, I could not not take pictures. It was my auntie that suggested bringing my parent’s camera. It was barely used, – only used for special occasions such as parties, so I took the oppurtunity and certainly did not let it go to waste.  It wasn’t most professional or sophisticated, but it worked, and I didn’t regret bringing that camera at all.

On the trip, I didn’t expect to use it as much as I did. When I wasn’t fixated on the actual mesmorizing piece of nature, my camera was held to my face with a big, cheesy smile spread across my face to the point it hurt. But I loved every milisecond of it. 


My ultimate dream is to explore the world. Seeing every aspect of the world intigues me. Getting to visit the Umoja tribe in Kenya, Africa or celebrating the Holi spring festival in India seems so exhilarating. There’s so much in the world: too many places to visit, too many things to comprehend. I want to experience all of that. 

I do not want to be traveler. I want to travel. Being a traveler and just travelling are to completely different things. From one side of a scale to another, it’s completely different. To me, being a traveler means physically planning about 2 years beforehand, only bringing the things that are needed, basically the ultimate travel packing checklist. You’re essentially a pro. On the other hand, just travelling is being spontaneous: bringing things you definitely do not need, but learning afterwards what you’ll actually need next time, and spending more money than needed. That’s what I want to do. 

It sounds far-fetched. I always thought that in order to travel you needed to plan 2 years before or bring the things you only needed, but that’s not always the easiest. 

The world is full of people – people wanting to make a difference in the world, people not wanting to have anything to do with it, and people that just want to live their lives to the fullest. It’s just the way life is. 

But why be ordinary when you can be unique? Why be the same as your idol when that’s only going to make you less different? Why be the same as the “most popular” girl when all that’s going to cause is insecurities? Why be like somebody else when you’re your own person? You have your own body, your own personality, your own mind, your own heart, your own world – your own world that you see in the eyes of your own eyes, your own world that you can change with your own choices. 

It’s sad to see so many people similar, when all they want is to fit in. It’s disheartening how much not only social media and the internet does to degrade and manipulate humans, but how humans as well degrade their own species because of the way they dress, or they way they see things, or the way they act.

It’s so heartbreaking seeing humans judge another with no utter knowledge of the person, but with what they see on the outside and from what they see they do not like. 






selcouth: unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous.

Yes, yes. I got this word from Tumblr. I wouldn’t be your average hipster without the platitude of Tumblr, and yes, I do admit that I am a hipster, as my dad likes to tease me very often about it. I feel like the word selcouth goes upon opinions. To some, what I think may be marvelous, is just overall selcouth, without the “marvelous” part. For example, volcanic lightning. The name speaks for itself. They’re dangerous – extremely dangerous. Although, it occurred in in the month of November of 1963, it is still uncertain what may be the cause of this phenomenon. It is certainly a rare and strange occurrence, but nobody can deny that this isn’t beautiful.


2016 (Japan)

I knew the word “selcouth” was not a commonly known word, and it wasn’t a surprise I found it from Tumblr – hence the reason that many odd things come from Tumblr. Maybe it was destiny.

It was actually the same day that I’ve decided to create a blog, in which I share my thoughts and opinions and so on. I wanted something weird and uncommon for my “username”, and I sort of felt as if the word was meant for someone like me – maybe that was why people often called me the “weird kid”. It wasn’t like I hated it, but I mean – could you have at least picked a better word than “weird”? To me, it was cliché, like it came straight from a stereotypical movie about teenagers. Not that being weird is wrong or anything. Oh, no. Being weird was a lifestyle to me, and still is, but there are many synonyms you could have used to create a better nickname for someone like me, like the “unorthodox kid”. Even basket case was a better name! I don’t know.

On a different note, selcouth is now my other-half – my other identity.