Who Really Am I Novels & Stories

That's because I know myself more than anyone. People can call me weird or a self-centered person but I will never change who I am just to please them. Karamihan sa mga tao ay pipilitin kang magbago at habang tumatagal ay hindi mo na namamalayang mimamanipula ka na pala nila. People are good deceivers. If you're not sharp enough to see that, they will turn you into a wonderful toy.

“Hindi ka rin clone.” “Hindi ka replacement.” Napaluha ako. “Then who am I?” Ngumiti siya. “Hindi mo kailangang malaman kung sino ka.” “Ang kailangan mong malaman…” Huminga siya. “…ay kung sino ang pinili mong maging.” Namatay ang projection. Click. --- “Anong ibig niyang sabihin?” Tanong ko. Tahimik lahat. Si Evelyn ang sumagot.

Sa kanyang mga mata, kahit hindi ko pa tapos ipinta—I heard a quiet rebellion—a silent scream that said, “See me. Not for what you expect me to be, but for who I really am.” Gumalaw ang panga ko at humigpit ang pagkakahawak ko sa paintbrush ko nang ma-realize kong hindi lang siya basta larawan lang. It was me. It was about me. About every part of myself I was too afraid to show. And as I stared at her, I realized—I was painting my truth in her form. “Do you know that I hate paintings?”

I murmur. “It still might.” His honesty catches me off guard. “You don’t trust him,” I say. “I don’t trust anyone who influences you against me.” “That’s not what he’s doing.” “Isn’t it?” I turn fully toward him. “He’s reminding me who I am outside of you.” The words aren’t meant to wound. But they do. Gabriel’s fingers flex around mine. “And who are you outside of me?” he asks quietly. “I’m someone who refuses to disappear.”

’ Amaranth almost tripped over forward nang marinig si Crimson sa likuran niya. “G*go!” sigaw niya dito. “G*go ka din. You really don't know who you are. Who we are.” Kumunot ang noo niya. We? Tumawa si Amaranth. “You're joking with me right now. There is no ‘we’. I am my own person.” ‘Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Nope. You're not the real one. You are just like me,’ sabi nito sa kanya.

She was serious. Pinakalma niya muna ang sarili. "Who is the real you?" tanong niya rito. Muli ito tumingin sa mga mata niya. "I am Sandra Lyn Santiago... A real woman by heart and all." Nagulat siya dahil bigla siya nitong hinalikan. Hawak nito ang magkabilang pisngi niya. His other hand hold her waist, habang ang isa ay hinawakan ang batok nito.

aniya na inirapan pa ako. That’s how we spend time together. Hindi ko rin namamalayan ang sariling nasasanay na sa presensiya nito. Ni hindi ko alam kung sino ang totoong siya. I don’t know if the Umbrielle in front of me is the real her or just an act. Sometimes I do think that she’s not being real. That the Umbrielle in front of me is just Umbrielle, the assasin, the one who is doing her job nicely.

sabi ng babae sa kanya "every one knows me.." Napakunot ang noo niya sa sinabi nito. 'Kilala ko ba ito?' Panghuhulain pa ata siya ng babaeng ito. "Eh sino ka ba?" nauubos na naman ang pasensiya niya. "Margaret de Vera.. i'm an artist.. famous" mayabang nitong wika. "Aaah.. ikaw pala yun?" may naalala siyang article about dito.

“Sigurado ka ba rito, apo? Kapag nalaman mo na ang katotohanan, baka mas masakit pa.” Ngumiti si Celestine, ngunit bakas sa mga mata niya ang determinasyon. “Mas masakit ang mabuhay sa kasinungalingan, lola. I want to know who I really am.” Niyakap siya ng matanda. “Kung anuman ang madiskubre mo, tandaan mo… hindi nagbabago ang pagmamahal ko sa’yo. Monteverde ka man o Villarreal… apo pa rin kita.”

“Im afraid, yes. Totally nothing personal about her, Sir.” Isang malalim na buntong hininga na lamang ang pinakawalan ni Dylan. Hindi niya malaman kung bakit tila pumapasok sa isipan niya ang writer na si “WhoAmI”, na parang naiintriga siya dito.