Amping
You once asked me how it feels to
live far from home,
and I told you in Cebu, the first
words I learned wasn’t maayong buntag—
but amping.
A Eulogy: I live by Abbey Road
We are food for worms, says John Keating in Dead Poets Society. It’s humbling to die, and it’s devastating to be gone and face your own end like the rest of humanity, or even seeing others facing theirs. Sometimes, to grieve is to expect somebody’s return, but a dead person isn’t coming back, so what you could only do is to stare at the tombstone, as if it were to look at a past history.
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Dear Self
You murmur to yourself, “I want to give up. I want to end this suffering.” You were smiling on the outside, yet you’re not okay on the inside. Your friends think you’re fine, but you know that you aren’t. Your thoughts raced and came to tell you things that destroyed you. You told yourself that you are not worthy to live. You kept telling yourself that nothing is wrong.
Nothing is wrong.
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow: The Tenses of A Pressed Lens
Those who do not remember the past are bound to repeat it. Such a phrase is an age-old warning that has transcended the changes of time and has fallen deaf to some ears. It is a reminder that while injuries heal and cease to bleed, it leaves scars that symbolize resistance to the weapons that forcefully attempt to wound the hands and silence the voices that simply aim to share and speak truths, no matter how unpleasant they are.
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SICK COUNTRY
Power became the strenuous race to silence information; for in it lay the essence of discourse. And to essentially sever it was to completely veer it off its course and annihilate any possible opposition to his cause, until he closes the system in his fist. The solution now becomes arithmetic, the sum of the three: fear, misinformation, silence.
Ritch Martel
Ritch Martel Ritch Martel A soul with a few to say, or write. Lover of the sun. Twitter Ritch as a Writer Features SICK COUNTRY Power became the strenuous race to silence information; for in it lay the essence of discourse. And to essentially sever it was to completely veer it off its course and annihilate any possible opposition to his cause, until he closes the system in his fist. The solution now becomes arithmetic, the sum of the three: fear, misinformation, silence. Ritch MartelSeptember 21, 2025 [Name] as an Artist Traditional Art / Caricatures Layouting Photography DCLL Features FRIDAY FEATURETTES Literature Corner News The Cebuano Memoriam The End Word The Lingua Franca Compendium Wednesdays of Tomorrow Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Features Features Literature Corner Features DCLL Features FRIDAY FEATURETTES Literature Corner News The Cebuano Memoriam The End Word The Lingua Franca Compendium Wednesdays of Tomorrow Read More DCLL Features FRIDAY FEATURETTES Literature Corner News The Cebuano Memoriam The End Word The Lingua Franca Compendium Wednesdays of Tomorrow Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Read More Features Features Literature Corner Features DCLL Features FRIDAY FEATURETTES Literature Corner News The Cebuano Memoriam The End Word The Lingua Franca Compendium Wednesdays of Tomorrow Read More
It’s Not a Heart Problem
When I give my heart out to someone and they turn it down
I often take a moment to look at it
I saw the scars that were once deep cuts that fully healed
The broken pieces that I so desperately glued back together
And the bruises that never left its mark
It looks ugly, it looks beaten, but it has always been mine.
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RECAPPING: DCLL’s Affinity Week 2025
DCLL welcomed new blood as a new academic year started last August 11, 2025. In keeping with tradition, the University of San Carlos held Affinity 2025 throughout the week. Affinity Week is the university’s week of welcome for newly enrolled students for the academic year, starting with a welcome program on day 1 (August 11) held at the downtown campus, followed by a mix of activities at the department level.
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First-Rate Town
Cebu really is a small, small world. Every now and then, malls and parks felt like one big game of hide-and-seek from people I went to highschool with or college blockmates I avoided like the plague. Sometimes I’d see the hyperactive boy who sat beside me in the fourth grade, and I’d run the opposite direction. Though, for some reason, I can never leave. Every song on the radio is the same, after all, but even if a spry group of friends dream big enough to fill stadiums and fields, it’ll be the same four chords.