Adulting is often associated with freedom—liberated from all constraints in life. Financial liberty as we search through websites for job openings. Individual freedom to do whatever we want in our lives. I’ve always dreamt of getting there.

But, at some point, can I at least slow down or stop the time?

I am afraid, okay? I’m growing up too fast.

As I transition to adulthood, elders have given constant reminders that people come and go anytime as they wish. Relationships are seasonal—they stay for a specific period of time for a particular reason. Once they’ve achieved that, they’ll go.

They will drift away from me as natural as how I breathe.

The question is how can I stop breathing?

FOMO: my sleep paralysis

I am growing up inevitably—obviously. All of the “(best)friends” I’ve considered so far is also now far from me. They are all enjoying their busy lives with people they’ve met after me, posting photos and reels on their social media accounts. I cannot help but to smile. Being genuinely happy for them is all I could ever do, now that all of them found their “best friend” they will apparently call for forever.

But, I still wish that was me. Because I became one before them.
I can still imagine how I would appear on their accounts because of how many selfies we took while walking down the streets. Or maybe, pictures of my hands ready to dig in but they insisted to take a photo of the foods before us first—you know? For IG stories. Spontaneous hang outs at their house because we were both bored which eventually led to me sleeping the night beside them.
Maybe, we will do that only if we didn’t grew up.

So, I cannot sleep at night so I might as well unwind, though it didn’t help me to get any better. My account was the only one filled with my selfies alone—posted as IG stories—while strolling around town at 10pm, with ice cream on one hand and my phone on the other. Scrolling through my feed filled with their posts of two people eating in a fastfood chain. That left a pang in my chest.

It was as if all the king’s horses and men couldn’t put me together again because all of my enemies started out friends. Or whatever Mother Taylor said.

If only there was a way to stop breathing.

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You’re on your own, kid

Getting closer to my dreams means getting farther away from my home. And, I have noticed it quite a lot lately. I am no longer their sweet girl.

I was their only little girl. My mom would always be free to drop me off or pick me up from school and anywhere else I went. My dad would always say yes to my wants and needs, not needing to think twice. The interests I’ve got from my cousins turned out to be the hobbies I’ll keep on doing for the past 17 years. And of course, the spoiled child I’ve become because of my grandparents’ inability to decline my requests—even when I say I want another “ulam” because I don’t like to eat vegetables.

But that little girl grew up—unconsciously.
My motto in life is “go with the flow.” Now, I can barely even remember where the flow took me. Everything happened in a flash. I was left with nothing but glimpses of my past.

That is what hurts me the most. I can remember short episodes of my core memories with my family and yet, I am now expected to turn my head away and tread my personal path. I don’t want to. Just not yet. I still want to call my mom to come pick me up at exactly 4pm from my school because I needed to stay late to finish my extracurricular activities. I still want to stay by my dad’s side—stay inside a time loop of me endlessly asking him to go with me to the mall for more shopping sprees, and his endless “yes” to my pleas. To always be beside my cousins who taught me how to enjoy my life by showing me how fun it is to watch films together—most especially horror ones—while we were busy trying to scare one another. How I would willingly give up everything just to say “Lola, Lolo, gusto ko po kumain ng pancit canton kasi ayaw ko kumain ng ginisang ampalaya” once more.

I don’t want to be on my own yet. I still want to be your kid.

If only I tried to slow down my breath.

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The ghost of my young reflection

Gaslighting became one of my best skills right after I noticed I’m growing up. I kept gaslighting myself that nothing’s changing—just my height, weight, age, and physical appearance. I am still the same.

The same girl who dreamt of becoming a high school student. The same kid who imagined herself as a medical student. The same child who asked God for a bright future ahead of her.

But, why is my reflection someone I don’t know?

Physical appearance aside, why do I now wear a facade on top of a dozen layer of make-up? I can clearly see a fragilely forged wall guarding me—I haven’t got a clue if it was to protect me from people or to protect people from me.

That is not who I was, not even a tiny bit of similarity. I can remember how jolly that little girl was. It was easy to get close to her within a few minutes of conversation, she’ll already call you her friend. Now, it will take you hundreds of names before you become one of my “few” friends: colleague, acquaintance, workmate, classmate.

And it was also that easy for her to express how fast her emotions shift, depending on the current situation. One second, she’s crying over the pettiest reason under the sun. The next moment, she’s laughing with you because you joked about her crying. So you’ll see her laughing while tears fall from her eyes. But now, all there is left is a smile. No emotions behind, no meanings intended. Just a pure sweet, empty smile.

I enjoyed my high school life half-heartedly. I am now taking a path towards law. And, I am still not sure whether I have a bright future ahead of me. All of these were the complete opposite of who I was expecting myself to become.

And I have no idea if that little girl would accept the new future girl she’d become.

If only I had any idea on how to freeze the time. If only I stopped breathing.

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But, no. I can’t stop nor slow down breathing. That would kill me instead of letting me live my life with them longer.

I have to accept the fact that I cannot stop the time from moving at its chosen pace.

So, instead of asking time to stop moving, may I ask you to stop coming in and going out of my life in a blink?

I don't want life lessons or memories. I just want you to stay.

So stay, please? Help me hold onto you for as long as a lifetime.

[Pic from pinterest ehe]

We’re just friends—you said. You said that so casually, as though it was a given fact I should be aware of already. Even before you said it. That hurts. Because I am aware of it. And, I still watched you falling in love with someone else while I am continuously falling for you.

But what can I do if you always come running to me to tell me the story of your crush who glanced at you for five seconds?

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We’ve been friends for five years now, much longer than the five-second eye contact you had with her. But, it doesn’t seem to affect you the same way it does to me. We’ve had countless eye contacts within the timespan of our friendship. I cannot deny the fact it flattered me the same way you felt after she smiled at you whilst walking down the campus hallway going to the cafeteria. I was by your side at that time. I was looking at you smiling ear-to-ear while you were gazing at her even after she walked past us.

It was the first time I saw you smile that way while looking at someone else. Usually, you only give that smile to you younger brother who you adore so much. I know those things about you. Your eyes lit up after seeing her, just like how it lit up after your younger brother ran up to you once—when we came to fetch him from school. Your nose crunched simultaneously as your lips formed an arch, something that you subconsciously do whenever you feel excited or overjoyed. I’m guessing it was the latter, ‘no? Then your hands, they went up in a flash to wave to her. That was the first time I saw you doing that. I always get a nod whenever we see each other for five years, sometimes with a smirk if you woke up on the right side of the bed.

It’s fine. I still got to eat lunch with you anyway even though it was evident in your face that you were thinking about her. Kahit katabi kita pero ang isip mo ay nasa kaniya, ayos lang. Basta nasa tabi pa rin kita.

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The first time you confessed to her was on Valentine’s Day. But the most memorable day for me was the 12th of February, the day you asked me out. Not on a date, but on a quest to choose the prettiest bouquet to give to her. You told me it was because I am also a girl, naturally, I would know what style and kinds of flowers a girl like me would love to receive. So, I went along.

You told me your preferences. That you want a bouquet with hidden meanings as you want it to serve as a letter of confession, aside from your personal one where you asked her out in front of the class. So, I chose tulips and gypsophila wrapped in a pink and white, with a pink ribbon.

(pinterest)

Pink tulips symbolize confessing your love for someone. Whilst gypsophila meant everlasting love and purity. Sounds cute, ‘no? It suits the purpose. But, you told me to add another shade of tulip, the white one. Because it matches the color of the wrapper which makes it all look cohesive, and therefore, beautiful.

I witnessed how much time you prepared for your confession. You said you made a script because you were afraid that you would stutter in front of her if you won’t memorize all of the things you wanted to tell her. And, as if the things you did were not cruel enough, you made me listen to the script you were going to say to her.

Flowers for you. I know it may seem a bit odd that I’m giving you a bouquet right now when we only had a few interactions before. I started to notice you during our training for campus journalism. How you wrote your articles with careful curating and aggression. It shows on your face. Your eyebrows frown every time you watch the news on your phone during training. Your cheeks flushed in red after our coach praised your article for its flow and impeccable style. Your fingers holding your favorite pen so tightly whenever you are finishing your articles because you are so eager to pass them—to get checked. And every time you do, you flash a smile before getting up from your seat. It is the brightest one I’ve ever seen. I like you.

I had to listen to that multiple times before you had to personally tell her those words. I really wanted to be honest with you. Why did you have to look to her when I’m here beside you? Bakit lumayo ka pa ng tingin? Nandito naman ako?

I was the first one to join the campus journalism organization, a year before her. I am an editorial writer with an English medium who is passionately writing about all kinds of topics—especially politics. Our coach also commends me for the aggression my articles carry, saying it is my forte. My flow also kept improving as it has a clearer structure now than before, from the hook down to the conclusion. And, most above all, I always smile in front of you.

But what can I do? I may smile in front of you the most, but I do not have the brightest one you’ve ever seen. Kahit ano gawin ko, hindi ako magiging siya.

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Then you went out with her, making all sorts of reservations. Restaurant, cinema tickets, and even at the cafe where we’d always go for our study sessions. You went out with her the week after your confession, only to come running back to me after she rejected you. As the white tulip suggested, it was a form of unrequited love. Kaya lang parang madaming target yata yang white tulips mo. Damay-sibilyan e. Pati ako, may unrequited love na rin dahil sa’yo.

You told me everything, from start to finish. How she looked so beautiful in her white sundress with a pair of blue cardigan around her shoulders. How she looked like a chipmunk while eating—her cheeks stuffed full of the food from the restaurant you went to. How you both went to the cinema to watch the recent Marvel film and went to the cafe right after the movie was done. And, how she confronted you about her real feelings toward you. That she doesn’t see you the same way you see her.

I should be happy, I thought. Because that would mean I still have a chance to love you. But how can I be happy when you wept inside 7-11, the nearest convenience store, while we were eating hotdog in a bun and asado siopao? Foods that always lift your spirits because they are your favorite.

How can I be happy when you’ve made it clear that despite the rejection, you would still continue to like her? Because that’s how deep your feelings are—enough to bear the weight of the pain. Enough to be contented in admiring her from far away.

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You made it very clear that you would still choose to like her, not anyone else. It would always be her face, her hobbies, her personality—her. Even if it hurts you like hell. Even if it makes you cry in bed. Even if it leads you to call me every 3 am to say it wounds you to feel she gradually slips away from your hold, because it feels so awkward to speak with her now.

Even if she makes you feel all shades of blue. It makes no difference. Because you still like her the most. She is your favorite.

I’ve memorized every single detail of you without even trying. You are that easy to love. When you cried in front of me after the rejection, it was me who made you smile again. With my “corny” jokes you said were unfunny, you laughed a bit with tears flowing down from your cheeks. But, at least, I still made you smile. I made an effort to make you smile. Because I want to.

Sadly, even if I can be the same shade as the sunshine to make you smile after a rainfall, it makes no difference. I am still not your favorite, after all.

So, it does not really matter if I am the prettiest shade of yellow, if your favorite color is blue. I’ll just stay as your friend for more years, and wait until I can stop loving you.

I love you. Kaya iiwan kita.

And I’m sorry. Sorry if I chose to let go even when I can still remember how I told you promises to stretch the time just for me to stay longer by your side. But please, stop asking me to stay.

Ethan, I love you. Please lumayo ka.

Only God knows how much I prayed, day and night, to at least take away the option of leaving you behind. Kasi alam kong masasaktan kita.

Alam naman nating dalawa kung gaano kahirap maging isang breadwinner sa ibang bansa, ‘di ba? Bawat oras ng trabaho, sinusulit. Bawat raket na mababalitaan, hindi pinapalampas.

Time is gold. Akala ko dati, kupas na yang katagang ‘yan. Pang matatanda na lang ‘yan. Pero ngayong nandito na ‘ko katabi mo, segundo, oras, araw, buwan, at taon, kailangan mong bumangon. Kasi maiiwanan ka ng panahon kung tatayo ka lang para huminga kahit sandali.

Sabi ko nga sa’yo ‘di ba? Kapag tumigil ka, magugutom ka.

Kaya iiwanan muna kita, Ethan. Kasi hindi ko pa kayang manatili sa tabi mo ngayong may tatlong tao akong binubuhay gamit ang letcheng trabahong ‘to. Panganay ako eh. Kailangan ko pang gamitin ang natitira kong oras para madagdagan ang kita kong pera kasi kahit ilang raket pa ang kunin ko, kapos pa din ang abot ko. Pero saan ko naman pupulutin yung oras na ‘yon kung nagtatrabaho ako bilang domestic helper sa umaga, raketera naman sa gabi? Sa’yo.

Ikaw lang naman ang meron akong pinakamadaling isantabi sa ngayon eh.
Ay wait, mali.
Ikaw lang ang meron akong kaya kong isantabi sa ngayon.

Pero hindi ko kayang lumayas mula sa tabi mo eh. Kainis ka naman kasi. Masyado kang pa-fall. Ako naman ‘tong tangang umibig sa’yo kahit alam kong hindi pa ‘yon nararapat sa sitwasyon ko ngayon.

Kaya, ikaw na lang ang lumayo sa akin. Kaya, I love you.

Ethan, sa bawat “I don’t love you” mo, mas lalong nahahati sa dalawa ang katawan ko.

Ang sakit lang kasi halos kontratahin na yata kita para lang maalala mong ang “I love you” ko ay para mawalan ka nang interes sa akin at tuluyang lumayo. Pero sino ba ang niloloko ko?

Sa bawat “I love you” ko, parang ako yung lumalayo sa sarili ko papunta sa’yo. At natatakot ako doon, Ethan. Kasi nauna ko nang sabihin sa’yong ayo’ko sa love—sayang ang oras ko doon. Pero nung nakilala kita? Para akong nabuhayan na naman ng dugo para sa lintek na pag-ibig na ‘yan.

Kaya lang, naalala kong parehas nga pala tayong bobo sa pag-ibig hahaha. Ang tibay pa ng ebidensya sa’yo. Biruin mo? Pilit mong tinatapalan ang pangalang ipina-tattoo mo sa braso mo dahil lang nainlove ka dati. Pero feeling ko, mas bobo ako kaysa sa’yo eh.

Muntik ko na kasing iwanan yung matagal kong pinangarap na Canada para sa’yo.

Muntik na akong maniwala sa’yo, Ethan. Muntik na akong bumigay at maniwalang kakayanin nating buhayin ang isa’t isa para lang maging magkasama. Pinapaniwala mo akong kakayanin mong panagutan lahat ng financial problems ko kahit may sarili kang pinoproblema sa pamilya mo. Kahit wala akong ilabas na pera, papangalanan mo ‘kong investor sa business mo. Muntik na rin akong bumigay kasi pinapapili mo ako eh. Kung ikaw ba o yung pangarap ko. Ang daya mo don.

Pero naalala kong ayo’ko pala non, Ethan. Mahal na kita eh—hindi biro, hindi kasinungalingan. Ang totoo niyan, hindi ko lang talaga kakayaning sikmurain na makita kang kumakayod at nahihirapang tustusan ang problema kong ako dapat ang gumagawa ng paraan. At saka, gusto ko ring matupad ang pangarap ko para sa sarili ko. Maging nurse sa Canada at magamit yung pinaghirapan kong aralin sa Pinas. Sayang din kasi ‘yon eh. Ang dami kong gustong gawin at kahit tawagin mo akong selfish, hihingi lang ako ng tawad sa’yo. Sorry kasi gusto kong unahin naman ngayon yung sarili ko.

Sabi mo ay kasama ako sa plano mo pero hindi iyon ang gusto ko, Ethan.
Ang gusto ko ay makasama sa pagpaplano mo.
Dahil alam kong hindi lang naman sa pagsasakripisyo pupuwede kong ipakita ang pagmamahal.

Pero wala rin kasi akong laban kung ang pagmamahal na hanap mo ay yung pisikal na mananatili sa tabi mo. Kaya Ethan, I love you.

Ethan, totoo na ‘to. Mahal kita.

Humihingi ako ng tawad sa’yo ngayon pa lang. Alam kong ang dami mong ginawa para sa akin kahit hindi ko hiningi, para lang manatili ako sa tabi mo ng mas matagal. Kasi sabi mo, mahal mo ako eh.

Pero ‘di ba kung mahal mo ako, hindi mo na ako dapat pang tanungin kung bakit uunahin ko sarili ko ngayon? Hindi sapat yung minamahal mo lang ako.

Kabisaduhin mo rin ako, Ethan. Alamin mo naman kung ano ang mga prayoridad ko sa buhay.

Pero parang late ka na? Hindi ko naman isusulat ‘to para sa’yo kung una pa lang, alam mo na. O baka naman alam mo na talaga, dinedeny mo lang?

Kasi kung ayon ang dahilan, mas lalo mo lang ako pinapahirapang iwanan ka. At ang unfair mo sa part na ‘yon. Dahil kung mahal mo ‘ko gaya ng sabi mo, hahayaan mo akong sumaya sa nais kong marating.

Pero hayaan mo na. Ang mahalaga sa akin ngayon ay makarating sa’yo itong letter ko ngayon. Sinusulat ko kasi ‘to ngayon habang nakaupo sa airport, iniintay yung flight ko pa-Canada. Basta tatandaan mong totoong minahal kita, kaya gagawin ko ‘to para kung dumating man yung oras na makakabalik ako sa’yo, babalik ako nang buo at masaya.

Hanggang sa masabi ko sa’yong “Hello Love, again," Ethan.

Minamahal ka,
Joy

Paalala: This article is heavily based and influenced by the movie “Hello, Love, Goodbye” May mga phrases diyan na galing sa mismong movie. Tas yung buong content ay pawang imagination ko kung natuloy silang maghiwalay ni Ethan dahil magc-Canada si Joy. Ano kaya ang last words niya para kay Ethan?

Ma, Pa, suntukan tayo right neow

Nagugutom po ako. Gusto ko po non! Fried chicken, burger, spaghetti, o kahit siomai man lang po oh. Lagi ko pong nakikita sa labas ‘yan e.

Siguradong mas masarap kesa sa pagpag na ulam natin ngayon.

Lima kaming magkakapatid at ako ang panganay sa amin. Labing-apat na taong gulang pa lamang ako, dapat grade nine na. Mahilig akong magsulat; sa katotohanan niyan ay mahilig ako sa subject na Filipino. Kaso kinailangan kong tumigil dahil kailangan ng tulong ng tatay ko.

Halos makuba na ang aking likod gawa ng pagsama ko sa aking ama upang magtrabaho sa bukid — upang magsaka. Pero ayos lang, para naman ito sa pang-tustos sa mga kapatid ko. Mahal ko iyong mga ‘yon e, lalo na si bunso.

Si Papa ay isang magsasaka. Lagi niyang tanim ay mga gulay, lalo na ang mga kalabasa. Kailangan niya tulong ko kasi tumatanda na rin si Papa. Nauuna pa kaming dalawa gumising sa madaling-araw bago pa tumilaok ang manok na panabong ng kapitbahay. Nangingitim na rin ang balat naming pareho dahil ang silong namin ay sa ilalim ng mismong araw. Walang humpay ang pagyuko, wala ring humpay ang pagtulo ng pawis.

Pero habang tumatagal ang panahon, unti-unti kong napapansin na kumukulubot ang balat ni Papa. Unti-unti rin siyang lumililiit sa paningin ko dahil nakukuba na ang Papa ko. Nung minsan nga’y nag-alala ako dahil hindi na niya maibanat nang tuwid ang likod at mga daliri niya.

Kung kaya’t kinagabihan ay natulog siya sa tabi ko, nakatagilid at nakabaluktot sa banig.

Si Mama naman ay laging nasa bahay. Siya ang palaging nag-aasikaso sa apat ko pang mga kapatid. Lumalabas din siya paminsan-minsan para mangalakal ng basura at ibenta para may pera kaming maipambili ng mga kailangan ng aming pamilya. Lumalabas siya ng bahay habang tirik ang araw, may hawak na iilang sako sa isang kamay habang ang isa ay nakasuporta sa katawan ni bunso na ang tanging inuupuan ay ang lamping nakasabit sa balikat ni Mama.

Minsa’y naaabutan ko rin siyang tumatanggap ng tone-toneladang labada mula sa mga kapitbahay namin. Maghapon hanggang sa dumilim ay nakaupo siya sa labas ng aming bahay. Sa bawat kusot ng damit ay natatanggal niya ang mantsa, kasabay nito ay ang kunot sa noo ni Papa na namomroblema kung paano niya pagkakasyahin sa tatlong araw ang kinitang singkwenta pesos mula sa ibinentang kilo ng kalabasa ngayong araw.

Kung kaya’t sige ang pagkusot at banlaw niya hanggang sa magsugat ang daliri niya. Sabi niya ay para din daw may extra pa kaming pera.

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Pero bakit po ganoon? Bakit hanggang ngayon ay pritong manok na may kagat pa din ang inihahain natin tuwing hapunan?

Kung ako lang sana masusunod, mas gugustuhin ko pang ulamin namin ay asin o ‘di kaya ay toyo. Hindi pa sana magsusuka ang apat na taong gulang naming bunso. Pero sabi nila Mama, mas makakatipid daw kasi kung kukuha na lang kami ng pagkain sa basurahan ng KFC sa bayan kaysa bumili ng 30 pesos na pritong manok na nilalako ni Mang Kanor sa kalye.

Hindi ko naman ginustong makakain ng KFC sa ganitong paraan, Ma. Masaya na nga po sa akin kahit sa Kanto Fried Chicken eh.

Sa tuwing mangangalakal si Mama, isinasabay na niyang manguha ng “pagpag” sa bayan. Umuuwi siyang may dalang isang plastik na may kakarampot na pritong manok, o para sa akin ay pritong buto na may kasamang butil-butil na kanin.

Iyong pangalawa sa aming magkakapatid naman ang nakatoka sa pagluluto nito. Una ay kukuha siya ng tubig at doon niya huhugasan ang nakuha ni mama para matanggal lahat ng dumi na nakakapit dito, kasama na ang alikabok. Pagkatapos ay ihahanda na niya ang kawali sa munti naming kusina, doon niya ip-pritong muli yung mga buto. Kasabay nito ay ang pagsasaing niya kahit ang pangtakal ng bigas nami’y hindi puno.

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Nakapag-aral naman ako hanggang grade five kahit papaano. Pero sa buong klase namin? Ako lang daw ang tumigil pumasok sabi ng kaibigan ko. Pero madalas pa din niya akong kwentuhan sa mga kaganapan sa eskuwelahan.

Sabi niya pa nga sa akin, nakasali raw siya sa isang kumpetisyon sa larangan ng pagsusulat—ang press conference. Isa raw siyang editorial writer. At sa isang buwan? Pupunta siya sa mga karatig bayan upang makilahok. Sa tuwing training daw nilang mga manunulat, lagi raw silang kumakain ng siomai sa tapat ng eskuwelahan nila. Iyong tipo na maraming toyo, calamansi, at chili powder. Tapos may sago’t gulaman din sila na nagsisilbing panulak.

Ang sarap sanang isipin na sana dalawa kaming magsasanay at kakain doon ngayon kung hindi lang ako tumigil.

Isinalaysay niya rin sa akin lahat ng natutunan niya sa training nila. Nakikita ko sarili ko bilang isang manunulat. Siguro ay editoryal or Kolum ang kukunin ko. Marami-rami kasi akong sasabihin tungkol sa gobyerno na ‘yan.

Bakit sa buong buhay ng papa kong magsasaka, nagkukulang pa rin ang pera namin para sa araw-araw na pamumuhay? Eh tinutulungan ko rin siya upang mas mapabilis ang proseso ng aming pagsasaka at makabenta ng kilo-kilong kalabasa. Kataka-takang may pera naman siyang natatanggap mula sa nag-aangkat ng gulay sa palengke pero lagi niyang sinasambit ang mga salitang “kulang pa ‘to” o “ ‘nak, pabukas ng lampara. naputulan tayo ng kuryente.”

At ang ipinagtataka ko sa lahat, bakit mas nauna pa akong makapagtrabaho sa bukid kaysa makakain ng siomai sa harap ng eskuwelahan?

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At sa tuwing may kinita si Mama sa paglalaba at pangangalakal, nakakalanghap din ako ng simoy ng usok ng tambutso sa bayan. Madaming tao ang nagrereklamo sa amoy nito pero isang malaking ngiti ang nadadala nito sa bibig ko. Minsan lang kasi ako makapunta dito.

Habang naglalakad papuntang simbahan, dadaan ka muna sa isang kalsadang magkabila ang bilihan. May palengke, bangketa, at kainan. Ang laki nga nung poste na may Jollibee na nakalagay e. Nakikita ko mismo doon kung paanong may isang pamilyang nakaupo sa tapat mismo nung salamin—ang dami nilang manok at spaghetti. Sabay-sabay din sila kung magsalita at pumalakpak habang may isang bata, kasing edad ko lang din siguro ‘yon, na sumasabay sa kanilang pagpalakpak habang may isang malaking ngiti sa mukha. Mukhang kaarawan niya ata noong araw na iyon. Pero habang nakatitig ako sa kanila ay tinawag na nila Papa ang pangalan ko kaya’t mabilis na akong naglakad paalis.

Ang madalas na ginagawa namin dito ay pumunta sa simbahan, sa gitna mismo ng bayan. Doon ay nakakakita ako ng mga bagay na isa o dalawang beses ko pa lamang nasisilayan sa tanan ng buhay ko. Gaya na lang ng tinitinda dito na mga lobong may kung ano-anong mukha’t hulma. Kakatuwa.

Sayang, wala kaming pera para diyan e.

Kaya pagpasok mismo ng simbahan, doon mismo sa harap ng altar ay binibigatan kong madalas ang pagluhod ko, yung paraan na halos mamula ang tuhod ko. Baka sakaling mas madali akong mapapansin ng Panginoon.

Simple at paulit-ulit lang naman ang pinapanalangin ko sa tuwing magmimisa kami. Sana ay masubukan ko man lang na makakain ng siomai sa harap ng paaralan at bagong pritong manok sa KFC.

O hindi kaya ay masubukan ko man lang makapagdiwang ng aking kaarawan, kahit saan na—kahit ‘di sa Jollibee. At saka makatapos man lang ako ng pag-aaral.

O sige na, kahit hindi na lahat ng iyan. Kahit sana ay makakain na lang kami ng pamilya ko nang tatlong beses sa isang araw na may maayos na pagkain. Hindi asin. Hindi toyo. Hindi pagpag.

Kahit ayun na lang po sana ang pakiusap ko?

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Kaya lang, sa ngayon, mabubusog na lang muna ako sa salita ng iba at pagtingin ko sa pagkain nila.

Nakakainggit nga lang.

Ma, Pa, pasensya na. Yung nasabi ko kanina? Nadala lang po ako sa kalam ng sikmura.

Hello guys! Ang article na ito ay based sa “Isang Kalahig, Isang Tuka” documentary by Kara David. Matagal ko na siyang napanood pero nag binge watch ulit kasi ako ng mga documentaries niya and this is one of the hidden gems on y.t. (reco ko ‘yan)

Just for awareness po! (Got it from my own research)

1. There is an estimated 740,000 families who live below the subsistence level set by our govt. Meaning to say: hindi po enough ang income ng mga families na ito para makakain ng sapat sa isang araw.

   • And according po ‘yan sa datos ng PSA noong 2023. They haven’t released newer data sets yet. I would assume na mas mataas na ang datos ngayon dahil sa pagtaas ng bilihin sa Pinas pero wala namang halos pinagbago ang sahod ng mga Pilipino.

2. There is also an estimated over 513,000 children in our country who are victims of child labour, all aged from 5 to 17 years old, as of 2025. Also according to PSA.

   • This is concerning dahil una po, halos lahat sila wouldn’t have any form of employment contract which is supposedly something to protect them against their employers if ever may mangyaring masamang hindi inaasahan.

   • If gaya man sila ng batang nasa article ko, this type of labour is hazardous enough. They are getting exposed to hazardous equipment & machineries and pestisides which could negatively affect their respiratory health.

   • Child labour also, I would say, strip children from their ability to learn and socialize in schools just because of the grave wealth disparity in our country.

3. And to bring these all back in one piece, let me just bring up the 64pesos a-day-worth-of-meals controversy.

   • Ito po ay dahil ang subsistence threshold na set ng govt ay nakabase dito noong kinuha nila yung data from 2023. Masyadong mababa, masyadong nakaka-insulto.

   • Pero ang mas nakakalungkot pa ay madaming independent resources/research ang nagsasabing may mga taong mas mababa pa sa 64php ang sinasahod nila sa isang araw. eg.) ang ating mga magsasaka at iba pa.

Hopefully I’m doing this right! I am open to further discussions. Feel free to correct me too.

Ilang bata pa ba ang kailangang kumalam ang sikmura para tuluyang aksyunan ito ng gobyernong dapat nangangasiwa sa preventive measures para sa isyung ito?

Hays. Nagutom ako habang sinusulat ‘to.

Tara! Suntukan tayo right neow?

Whenever I go out, socialising with people, one of the most repeated questions I’ve heard was “Why have you never been in any relationships?”

Well… I’ll take you through it.

First and foremost, I was brought up with the idea that I must avoid having relationships until I finish uni.

My childhood was filled with achievements, recognitions, awards. Encouraged and pushed by everyone around me: family, relatives, and even family friends. It came up to the point where it is now embedded on my brain.

Sorry, study first ako.
My go-to phrase—always. Though it was not necessarily the case. Partially, it was because of it. But, most of the time, it just felt like it is the most normal and appropriate response from me whenever someone confesses their feelings towards me. So, I use it all the time. Hence why I am NBSB.

Next is mostly because I am scared.

I mean… who wouldn’t be? As a girl with zero experience in love-life, I admit that I’d be the most naive and oblivious person if I were to be in a relationship. Social media platforms have emitted multiple elements and sub-elements of a relationship: micro and macro cheating, social media standards, manipulations, etc.

How would I know if I am already a victim of those? I have no idea.
I am secretly praying that there is a book or a standardised procedure out there—somewhere—that clearly states how I should and shouldn’t act in a relationship. But, I know deep inside I would hate that just like how much I hate social media standard actions. Because love shouldn’t be dictated in any shape or form, or else, it would be job and not a choice driven by strong attraction. Hence why I am NBSB.

Third reason is because I have accepted the fact that I am ambitious.

“Lason ang pag-ibig sa babaeng may pangarap.”
I have many expectations to fulfill. Both to myself and to those around me. My name has been linked to different connotations: career-driven, proactive, hard-working, and sometimes self-serving. It’s quite funny how I was linked to self-serving just because I am a woman when I literally do everything but serving myself.

Ever since that linking happened, I’ve decided to make it true. I, now, officially live to serve myself. Not selfish, just self-serving. That is particularly the reason why I cannot be in a relationship anytime soon. I would most likely choose and prioritize myself over anyone. I would choose career over love without any apologetic thoughts on it. Hence why I am NBSB.

Last but definitely not the least reason is because love is political.

Ang magmahal ay politikal
I’ve pondered over this phrase longer than I should have. I was lost when I first heard about it, if I’m going to be honest. Because why are we directly linking love to politics?

Picture it this way. Love is often depicted as butterflies in the stomach whenever we receive flowers or chocolates.

But, what if hunger flew and got to our stomach faster than the butterflies? There would not be anything so flattering when all you can feel is frustration over thinking how your underpaid salary could be stretched for a few more days or weeks.

Precisely why I cannot be complacent about my life. I have to constantly think about my future—job security, job salary, investments, and even pensions. Because I cannot afford to let my family starve just because I’m in love.

I cannot settle with a few pennies left in my pocket with no substantial amount of savings kept away just because I’m busy enjoying a god-knows-how-long-lasting relationship with someone.

Hence why I am NBSB.

However, do not be mistaken. I still wish for a relationship to come my way once I am ready. A relationship where I can proudly announce myself in love. I am hoping for a relationship built on a solid ground of trust, care, and a wholesome love where there’s no room for shouting, blaming, or accusing one another. I still want it.

Just not now. Not when I’m still laying down the path I want to take piece-by-piece. Not when I am still starting out to explore the world and my mind.

I want to welcome love from a place of personal stability, so I can weather any storm without me breaking apart.

Which is why I am No Boyfriend Since Birth.

[All pics are from Pinterest]