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BUHAY PINOY SA AMERIKA

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Yeth Bisto

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“But it's not just me, you know. The whole world's sad," I said. "It's like a virus. It's going to end badly. Glaciers melting, ozone depleted. Terrorists blowing up buildings, nuclear rods infecting the aqueducts. Influenza hopping from the pigeons to the humans, killing millions. Billions. People rotting in the street. The sun bursting open, shattering us eight minutes later. If not that, starvation. Cannibalism. Freakish mutated babies with eyeballs in their navels. It's a terrible place to bring a child into," I said. "This world. It is terrible. Just terrible.”

“I can miss my dad and hate him at the same time. I can be worried about this book and torn up about my family and sick over the house I'm living in, and still look at lake Michigan and feel overwhelmed by how big it is. I spent all last summer thinking I'd never be happy again, and now, a year later, I still feel sick and worried and angry, but at moments, I'm so happy. Bad things don't dig down through your life until the pit's so deep that nothing good will ever be big enough to make you happy again. No matter how much shit, there will always be wildflowers. There will always be Pete's and Maggies and rainstorms in forests and sun on waves.”

“I put my forehead to his and said, "I want you to stay, Harry. We need you. Me and Connor." I grabbed his hand tighter. "But if you have to go, then go. Go if it hurts. Go if it's time. Just go knowing you were loved, that I will never forget you, that you will live in everything Connor and I do. Go knowing I love you purely, Harry, that you were an amazing father. Go knowing I told you all my secrets. Because you were my best friend." Harry died an hour later.”

“After John’s arrest, life came at me fast. At every turn, I found myself in a place where my gut reaction was fear, anger, or deep sadness. I had to learn to Pause. This was my chance to take a breath and get myself grounded. It helped me not to react unconsciously (which didn’t turn out well when I did).”

“I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to face the boundless sky above covered by the darkness of my eyelids, and asked for mercy when there was none; ask for justice where there was corruption; for fleeting light in the sinking darkness; for life when there was only death and an accompanying silence; for rain in the blazing fire, where flames rose and burned and became a paroxysm of war and peace, of beauty and ugliness, of arrival and departure, of the awakened and those asleep, of content and sorrow, of sun and moon.”