ALYANNA YVENICE MIGUEL or Aly, for short, is a senior student of Bachelor of Arts in English Studies major in Communication Arts at the Mariano Marcos State University, Batac, Ilocos Norte. She is camera-vain, obsessive-compulsive and constantly paranoid. She refuses to go outside daylight when she's not fully dressed and primmed. Her motto? "You just never know who you'll see." Besides that, she baffles and talks a lot.

She believes that writing is her first love. On the other hand, she is an altruistic person and is passionate with things around her. She dreams her works to be recognized and her mission in life is to make a big change. She doesn't hold grudges or hatred. She believes that nature is her instrument of liberty.

Lastly, she waits for the boy who would change her life forever like in the movies. Loony, really.

 

          You can never run away from fate. It took quite a few turns myself, or ‘knockdowns’, the beefiest word I could find to render how I was ‘knocked’ down. Yes, I was impregnated with too much despair. Oh, Love, see what thee had beget me; I’m not even slightly convinced if what I have just said is grammatically accurate but Jessica Zafra can create her own words so I see no point of becoming an exception to this privilege. I call this democracy. Anyhow not even the most pungent of words neither if I call it ‘heartning’, something I have just came up with from my heartache and mourning could ever proclaim my tale. 
          I can never run away from fate. Yet who am I to know my fate and how it would play? In my case I have been sticking in an off beam providence. Yeah, providence. I called it that because not too long ago somebody mislead the linings of my palm escorting me towards the fate that one would never attempt to be anywhere near to. We all had our fair share of falling in love with Frog Prince. I portend a standing ovation to my prophet whose ‘prophecy’ actually took place apart from the certainty of possible happenstance. I don’t blame coincidence, I blame her; I blame her and everything she had made me consider. That maneuvering scoundrel. I would have never looked forward for the coming of Frog Prince. If not with her abruptly hopping out of nowhere inside my abode boasting around her ability to foretell…well I guess I would have been in a different track. Perhaps less glad, perhaps less poignant than I ever was.
          I thought I can never run away from that fate. During that point there I firmly deemed he was it. When Frog Prince broke my heart, my soul and my hymen, I began to walk on roads that chanted my solitude. I’ve never felt so abandoned. When he left, he took everything away. The only thing I was glad he took was my extra weight. Hah! Finally, a nice booty to flaunt! While I was spending on bottles which only contained three percent of liquor, cigarettes which I never really drawn in, going through wakeful nights, waking up with a cylinder literally punched through my heart and again, sauntering on roads which sung my solitude…Ugh! Alright! I get it! He left me!, I wept every single day. I wept and for incalculable times, imparted my heartrending tale and was reassured by people half of them I don’t really remember who. I wept; yes it was the point where I shed the most wounding of tears that I would stand at the edge of the stairs and deliberate to myself if it’s justifiable to die from falling off a darn staircase. Not until one time before I could finally conclude that jumping off would only cause a slight injury, somebody interjected exclaiming how I looked a lot more slender lately. Ruined plan, but how am I, an ever narcissistic rotund lass, supposed to react after receiving such compliment? On the contrary, I never really tried to kill myself for some sheer dumb love.  
          If my fate was to be a skinner and skinner heartache after heartache, then I’ll embrace all the bitterness needed. My whinings about my body makes me disregard the real issue here. I humbly ask pardon for my conceit. Before losing my sanity, I had marveled over love. I would amass and hand scribble notching quotes from medieval English authors, love anecdotes to biblical Corinthians and read them over and over as if I was chanting a spell to haul on love. Even I have proven Shakespeare wrong; whoever that amateur who quoted that love will change you, boy was he right. And I thank the heavens for actually sending the world somebody who talked genuinely. Second time to ask pardon but reality preaches. From a gullible, narcissistic, rotund lass, I became the menace of my own tale and self. There is no love after love, only more pain; that was the crux of my change. Anyone can predict what happened next. Let’s just say I filed a bill on gender equality. What men can do, women can too!
          I shall avenge the heart that you slaughtered, frog!
          Revenge…revenge; I chose a fate that left me pining. If this fate would carry on, I thought, how much longer would I endure the absence of emotive satisfaction? Of love? Yes, regardless of everything I was just like everyone else; someone who was also hungry for love. This time, not from a royal brute but with somebody who would make me think that Shakespeare after all, was right. But my heart was so crammed with hate; a revulsion I couldn’t seem to suppress even after a long time. Even so it also took that long for me to realize how dim-witted I was. I was taking vengeance for what? I was the one being tormented by my actions whilst he, on the brighter side was giddy in love with a girl who’s got a nicer nose. Hmm, perhaps I should’ve considered a nose job to avenge my face from further ridicule. Hey, Frog, you didn’t leave me because of my nose, did you?
          Fate is just so mirthful. Oh Fate, just take me where you ought to consign me in. I surrender to your entire charade. Sneak to me the answer once and for all. Is there still a chance that someone may be out there somewhere? Tell me and I shall conquer. Tell me and I shall follow that fate. 
          Fate is hardly contemplation between two paths or a game of hide and seek or tug of war. It’s just simply where we head instinctively to. Fate is when a bogus prophet presumes your future; fate is how you believed. Fate is when you meet someone and you fall in love. Fate is being gullibly in love.  Fate is when he breaks your heart. Fate is when you amend vocabulary. Fate is when you attempt to jump off the stairs and never tried again. Fate is when you curse Shakespeare to his grave for his nutty tragic writings. Fate is hankering after vengeance. Fate is waking up one morning knowing he’s never coming back. Fate is continuing to live despite the pain. Fate is when time passes. Fate is when time has mended your heart; already, that you could never know that you’re equipped to love the second time around. Fate is merely what we do one fate after another. Fate is riding on a bus one drizzly afternoon 27th of July about two years ago and amidst defining fate into a thousand meanings, fate, is at long last, finding the fate that alters your life three hundred and sixty degrees. Fate is when you lock eyes with a stranger, and suddenly, you hear his heart beating the same rhythm as yours, as if it was your own. 

          Fate is when you laugh to yourself; was it a lucky guess when I was told to have two men in my life? The second being the one I would spend the rest of my life with? Fate or a meager coincidence no matter, whatever it is, she’s definitely not bogus. 

          You can never run away from fate. It took quite a few turns myself, or ‘knockdowns’, the beefiest word I could find to render how I was ‘knocked’ down. Yes, I was impregnated with too much despair. Oh, Love, see what thee had beget me; I’m not even slightly convinced if what I have just said is grammatically accurate but Jessica Zafra can create her own words so I see no point of becoming an exception to this privilege. I call this democracy. Anyhow not even the most pungent of words neither if I call it ‘heartning’, something I have just came up with from my heartache and mourning could ever proclaim my tale.

          I can never run away from fate. Yet who am I to know my fate and how it would play? In my case I have been sticking in an off beam providence. Yeah, providence. I called it that because not too long ago somebody mislead the linings of my palm escorting me towards the fate that one would never attempt to be anywhere near to. We all had our fair share of falling in love with Frog Prince. I portend a standing ovation to my prophet whose ‘prophecy’ actually took place apart from the certainty of possible happenstance. I don’t blame coincidence, I blame her; I blame her and everything she had made me consider. That maneuvering scoundrel. I would have never looked forward for the coming of Frog Prince. If not with her abruptly hopping out of nowhere inside my abode boasting around her ability to foretell…well I guess I would have been in a different track. Perhaps less glad, perhaps less poignant than I ever was.

          I thought I can never run away from that fate. During that point there I firmly deemed he was it. When Frog Prince broke my heart, my soul and my hymen, I began to walk on roads that chanted my solitude. I’ve never felt so abandoned. When he left, he took everything away. The only thing I was glad he took was my extra weight. Hah! Finally, a nice booty to flaunt! While I was spending on bottles which only contained three percent of liquor, cigarettes which I never really drawn in, going through wakeful nights, waking up with a cylinder literally punched through my heart and again, sauntering on roads which sung my solitude…Ugh! Alright! I get it! He left me!, I wept every single day. I wept and for incalculable times, imparted my heartrending tale and was reassured by people half of them I don’t really remember who. I wept; yes it was the point where I shed the most wounding of tears that I would stand at the edge of the stairs and deliberate to myself if it’s justifiable to die from falling off a darn staircase. Not until one time before I could finally conclude that jumping off would only cause a slight injury, somebody interjected exclaiming how I looked a lot more slender lately. Ruined plan, but how am I, an ever narcissistic rotund lass, supposed to react after receiving such compliment? On the contrary, I never really tried to kill myself for some sheer dumb love.  

          If my fate was to be a skinner and skinner heartache after heartache, then I’ll embrace all the bitterness needed. My whinings about my body makes me disregard the real issue here. I humbly ask pardon for my conceit. Before losing my sanity, I had marveled over love. I would amass and hand scribble notching quotes from medieval English authors, love anecdotes to biblical Corinthians and read them over and over as if I was chanting a spell to haul on love. Even I have proven Shakespeare wrong; whoever that amateur who quoted that love will change you, boy was he right. And I thank the heavens for actually sending the world somebody who talked genuinely. Second time to ask pardon but reality preaches. From a gullible, narcissistic, rotund lass, I became the menace of my own tale and self. There is no love after love, only more pain; that was the crux of my change. Anyone can predict what happened next. Let’s just say I filed a bill on gender equality. What men can do, women can too!

          I shall avenge the heart that you slaughtered, frog!

          Revenge…revenge; I chose a fate that left me pining. If this fate would carry on, I thought, how much longer would I endure the absence of emotive satisfaction? Of love? Yes, regardless of everything I was just like everyone else; someone who was also hungry for love. This time, not from a royal brute but with somebody who would make me think that Shakespeare after all, was right. But my heart was so crammed with hate; a revulsion I couldn’t seem to suppress even after a long time. Even so it also took that long for me to realize how dim-witted I was. I was taking vengeance for what? I was the one being tormented by my actions whilst he, on the brighter side was giddy in love with a girl who’s got a nicer nose. Hmm, perhaps I should’ve considered a nose job to avenge my face from further ridicule. Hey, Frog, you didn’t leave me because of my nose, did you?

          Fate is just so mirthful. Oh Fate, just take me where you ought to consign me in. I surrender to your entire charade. Sneak to me the answer once and for all. Is there still a chance that someone may be out there somewhere? Tell me and I shall conquer. Tell me and I shall follow that fate.

          Fate is hardly contemplation between two paths or a game of hide and seek or tug of war. It’s just simply where we head instinctively to. Fate is when a bogus prophet presumes your future; fate is how you believed. Fate is when you meet someone and you fall in love. Fate is being gullibly in love.  Fate is when he breaks your heart. Fate is when you amend vocabulary. Fate is when you attempt to jump off the stairs and never tried again. Fate is when you curse Shakespeare to his grave for his nutty tragic writings. Fate is hankering after vengeance. Fate is waking up one morning knowing he’s never coming back. Fate is continuing to live despite the pain. Fate is when time passes. Fate is when time has mended your heart; already, that you could never know that you’re equipped to love the second time around. Fate is merely what we do one fate after another. Fate is riding on a bus one drizzly afternoon 27th of July about two years ago and amidst defining fate into a thousand meanings, fate, is at long last, finding the fate that alters your life three hundred and sixty degrees. Fate is when you lock eyes with a stranger, and suddenly, you hear his heart beating the same rhythm as yours, as if it was your own.

          Fate is when you laugh to yourself; was it a lucky guess when I was told to have two men in my life? The second being the one I would spend the rest of my life with? Fate or a meager coincidence no matter, whatever it is, she’s definitely not bogus.