Eres, you warm my heart every time you show all sorts of subtle affection – placing your paw over my hand, or your head on my lap, or sitting near my feet as I wash the dishes, or lying next to me when you are terrified of thunders. Thank you for all the joy and love and wonder I never knew my heart could hold.


Please never go away.


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I’ve gone places these past few months and the strange, sad thing is: the more I conquered territories, the more I lost my sense of home.

time travel

Yesterday, I turned 22. Twenty-two. It feels weird to say, or to think even, that I have been here that long. I guess it’s true what they say – that it’s only the outer shell that ages, and that you’re still the same person inside. Maybe if people were merely souls and had no outer shells, the only sign of one’s age would be one’s wisdom. Maybe.

Anyway. I decided to skip school yesterday and go on a solitary trip to Tagaytay. The moment I hopped on the bus, a strange sense of liberation and nostalgia overwhelmed me. It’s been so long since I’ve gone somewhere or done something on my own. Maybe it’s because I’ve made some really good improvements with my social life the past year. I think I might have spent more time with people than I have with myself, which is not bad at all. But with everything that I have been working on recently, I couldn’t help but cancel plans that day which involved socializing (sorry, cousins). I wanted to give myself time to breathe and process things.

I bought my CD walkman with me and listened to the recent mixtape I’ve made on the way to my destination. The mixtape contained songs which reminded me of my grade school and high school years. I read a book in the restaurant where I had lunch, and I wrote on my journal in a small coffee shop later that day. Prior to leaving, I also managed to watch a coming-of-age film that morning, which was about how a child celebrates her everyday life despite living in a harsh environment. So, yesterday’s trip really felt like a throwback of some sort, because I was finally able to do the things that I haven’t done in a while.




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I looked back on the life that I’ve lived so far and I guess I had to forgive myself for all the versions of me that I wanted but did not become. Maybe I’ll still have fragments of those as I go on in life, but they will remain only in periphery in the form of a side interest, or a memory.

Twenty-two years. I don’t know what version I’ll become years from now, but maybe the current -flawed, thirsty for improvement- version of me is worth celebrating in itself.

secret worlds


It’s that thing when you’re with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it… but it’s a party… and you’re both talking to other people, and you’re laughing and shining… and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes… but – but not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual… but because… that is your person in this life. And it’s funny and sad, but only because this life will end, and it’s this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed, that no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s – That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.

– Frances Ha (2012)

the greater adventure

So, here’s the thing: I refuse to commodify adventure.

It happened some time this semester when I desperately wanted to go on an adventure – which translated into a hike/beach/road trip or any forms of travel in the literal sense – in the hopes of taking myself out from a dull routine. But because of time and financial difficulties as a student, I was left with the following ordinaries: poolside meetings, travel between home and school, early dinners in convenience stores and street side eateries, and frequent visits to the bookstore among others. And it is in these seemingly forgettable moments that I was reminded of a different sense of adventure.

This is the kind that makes use of the common, the kind that magnifies the ordinary, for it to metamorphose into a meaningful encounter. The kind that is quieter, less costly yet equally, if not more, lovely. The kind that is, with constant training of the mind, always readily available. It can take great efforts at times to see from this perspective, but never stop trying. Somewhere along the way, I am hopeful you will meet rare souls who will let you experience every day as a new exploration.

Adventure in the literal sense is great. But I hope you also find excitement and wonder in sitting silently next to someone while watching the rain fall, in dancing to the music played in convenience stores, in the bus rides between home and school, in going past strangers on your way somewhere (every. single. day. THE WORLD IS BIG), even and mostly in mere conversations.



  • Had I not let my guard down, I wouldn’t have to feel this kind of sorrow. Connection is so addicting it scares me. Whenever I come across an interesting fact, a new place to explore or a fascinating story, there is always the intense desire to share it with someone. Not that it’s necessarily wrong, but I mourn for the time when I could easily do it on my own. It scares me how dependent I’ve become on people these past months. Yesterday, I’ve set a boundary in one of such connections and woke up with a heavy heart this morning. I keep missing people and moments too much lately. Send help.
  • I’ve lost track of who I am. I am not worth pursuing is something I’ve been thinking for weeks. I don’t know if it’s just a lie from the enemy – God, I hope it is – because I feel like I’ve been just trying to console myself by believing it’s a lie when it really is the truth.
  • Depression? I’m not sure, but: blank pages for over a month, sleeping the day away, spends most of the time reminiscing about distant past, no excitement in life’s wonders.
  • I miss You. I’m so sorry.