the past few weeks have been really dark for me. pakiramdam ko nasa malalim akong balon na may takip, wala akong malabasan, hindi ako makaahon. i’m doing better now but i can say na it was a really fucking scary experience. every waking second, i think about dying. ang bigat ng puso ko tuwing gigising ako sa umaga, my head won’t stop overthinking the future. the thought of being dead is the only thing that gave me comfort. i started drafting letters for my loved ones in my head, endless apologies for what i was about to put them through. endless assurance hat they’re not at fault. i recite it every night before i go to bed and every morning when i wake up.

i’ve always struggled with my mental health pero grabe yung bigat ng july sa’kin. i almost attempted. i was so ready to go. but i thought of my parents, i thought of my sister, i thought of my girlfriend. i thought about how my passing would affect them. i thought about the trauma i would have inflicted if they see me hanging dead and cold. so i took a step back and breathed. i thought about the many many things this life has to offer.

alam kong sobrang rock bottom ko nung mga panahon na yon kasi umiyak ako sa magulang ko. they were sleeping na that time and i hugged my mom and just cried. she just hugged me back, stroked my head, and offered comforting words. the day after that, my dad knocked on my room and gently said “nak, may problema ka ba, nak? narinig ko kayo ni mama mo kagabi, naiyak ako pero ‘di lang ako kumibo.” my family has never been affectionate to each other pero ngayon, tuwing natatakot o nalulungkot ako, nagpapayakap lang ako sakanila and they would just hug me back and stroke my back. gumaan naman pakiramdam ko. i never told my sister though, i’m scared of what she would think of me if i told her.

i would say na ang pinaka-naapektuhan was my girlfriend. kasi sakan’ya ko sinabi in detail kung ano yung pinagdadaanan ko. i feel guilty for scaring her like that. dumating sa point na she would always video call me and i figured na she was scared na i would go without saying anything to her. she knew about the attempt and the letters and she wanted me to recite it to her. and i did. i broke down after a few lines kasi narealize ko na ang dami naming plano together, ang dami naming gustong gawin together, and i can’t imagine the pain that she will go through if i leave her like that.

medyo tunneled pa rin yung vision ko of life. maybe my brain is still recovering from the depressive episode i had pero i can say naman na i’m doing better now. hindi naman na ako gumigising sa umaga na parang magpapanic attack palagi. hindi na rin comforting yung thought of dying for me. sa ngayon, i’m just trying to take it one day at a time while reminding myself na i have time to figure this life out. there is so much more to life than my episodes. and that is something that i will be holding on to as long as i can.

for now though, i’m glad that i’m still here.

i was told at a very young age to always keep a grateful heart even when life gets difficult. and even now, at twenty-four, i would read tiktok videos and reels about always keeping a grateful heart despite, despite, despite. i’ve tried that. i’ve done that for years. whenever i feel like everything feels difficult, i would count what i have and thank the heavens for them. i’ve been having a hard time doing that lately. i tried making lists of things that i am grateful for but i would only write out of logic, common sense, rational thoughts. but i know deep down that everything felt staged, scripted, and that i’m really not grateful for anything. my mind has been hyper focusing on things that i do not have and on things i cannot do.

i don’t like anything about myself also. i face the mirror and i find myself nitpicking everything about myself, from inside and out. from my body to my thoughts. they’re all ugly. i barely take any photos of myself or anything in general even though i loved documenting life. i think about what i want to be or the place where i want to be in a few years and all i can think of is somewhere six feet under. i’m not sure if is it because i don’t know what i want or because i just don’t want anything. i feel tired of the mood swings, of the mood shifts, of the high highs and the low lows. i like the high highs if they don’t give me the low lows but they always come together i can literally feel my brain being damaged with all the shifts.

i had very intrusive thoughts last week. i wanted to ghost my psych and ditch my meds. just raw dog life without the mood stabilizers and the antipsychotics, be at my truest self. maybe bleach my hair and spend my savings on useless things or kill myself over one minor inconvenience. mawi - 1, intrusive thoughts - 0. i went to my psych appointment and spent thousands on meds so that i can keep myself in check. big win, yay. did it make me proud? no. did it make me happy? no. did it make me feel anything? i don’t know. i just think about stopping everything.

maybe that is the part that nobody talks about when they tell you to keep a grateful heart. they make it sound like gratitude is supposed to be a cure (siri pls play the cure by olivia rodrigo???), like if you list enough blessings, your sadness will eventually become embarrassed and leave. but gratitude has never stopped my mind from wandering into dark places. it has never erased the fact that some mornings i wake up already exhausted by the thought of being myself for another day.

i know there are people who love me. i know there are things i would miss if they disappeared tomorrow. i know i have a roof over my head, food to eat, medication that keeps me functional, and a psychiatrist whose appointments i keep showing up to even when every part of me wants to cancel. i know all of these things. the problem is that the left and the right sides of my brains are not working together. the left parts knows and acknowledges all the good things in my life but the right side is pointing out all the bad things that i am that i have. they’re in a constant tug-of-war and i’m torn in between.

i guess i just have to force myself to be grateful that i’m still here. even if i don’t want to. and maybe i can spread some kindness (despite, despite, despite) to others even if i cannot give some to myself. maybe that is the closest thing to hope i can manage right now: that whatever tenderness i cannot turn inward does not have to disappear entirely.

i spent most of my life resenting my mom. she works six days a week, sunday is the only day that we get to see her the whole day. she was never really the emotionally attuned parent so she was somehow somewhat absent emotionally, same with my dad. but she was always present at milestones, always trying to be there for important events. she’s an eldest daughter of an ilokano household so i get it why she’s so tight with money. but my relatives from my father’s side would always call her in case of emergency and she was always willing to give and give and give. she was willing to sacrifice and compromise my quality of life to cater to other people’s needs. i understand her more now but i was so resentful before. we fought about it a few years ago and it took her YEARS to finally listen to me.

i also carried a lot of pressure from her academically growing up. because she valued education so much, i always felt like i had to do well, had to excel, had to prove that all her sacrifices were worth something. failure never felt like a normal part of life inside our house. it felt embarrassing, almost unacceptable. even when she never outright demanded perfection all the time, i could feel it in the expectations, in the comparisons, in the way achievements were one of the few things that consistently earned praise or reassurance. i think that’s partly why i became so hard on myself too. somewhere along the way, i started measuring my worth through grades, productivity, and how well i could meet expectations. (side note: this is why being kind and gentle to your children during their formative years is so important! she told me failing is not always bad but since i grew up being scolded over failing marks, i grew scared with them and it never really left me LOL so now kahit anong pep talk niya sa’kin, ‘di na umuubra huhu thanks but no thanks)

i think that’s the hardest part of growing up. realizing that your parents were also just children shaped by responsibility too early. my mom carried the “eldest daughter” role long before i even understood what it meant. siguro kaya hindi siya emotionally expressive because survival came first for her. pagiging practical, pagiging matipid, pagiging laging handang mag sakripisyo, palaging handang magbigay ng tulong sa iba. those were probably the things that kept their family afloat before or what she wished her family received. i learned the value of money because she’s the type of mother to involve her eldest in handling the finances. doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or that you hate math btw!

sometimes when my mind gets way too curious, i think about how my mom’s life was when she was younger. i know that she took educ for practical reasons, that she was too scared to take the board exam so she didn’t (the trait i clearly got from her lol), that she was brave enough to go to manila without knowing anyone here. but aside from that? i honestly don’t know much about her. what dreams kept her up at night? what were her passions and interests and hobbies? was she able to enjoy her youth like what she always reminds me to do? or was she focused more on surviving to make sure that she’ll be able to provide for her family? did she go through the rough patches that i went through? did she learn everything she taught me the hard way and on her own? there are still parts of my childhood that hurt to look back on. there are still moments when i feel bitterness over the things i needed that she couldn’t give. but now that i’m older, i can finally see the woman outside of the role “mama.” a young girl from pagudpud who studied hard, worked hard, left home, adjusted to a completely different city, and kept enduring because she had to. and maybe that’s why i feel guilty sometimes when i get tired of carrying expectations. because i know she carried them too, probably heavier and with less space to complain.

to be honest? i’m scared to know. so i compensate by trying harder now to understand her with softness instead of resentment. not to excuse the ways she hurt me, but to acknowledge that she was also navigating life with wounds and fears and responsibilities i may never fully understand. i think two things can exist at the same time: i can grieve the kind of mothering i wish i received while still appreciating everything she tried to do with what she had.

happy mother’s day, mama. you’re the bravest, strongest woman i know. i may not know the things you used to dream of but i hope you’re happy with the life you’re living with us.

i don’t talk about this much. mostly because i’m not sure how to say it without making it sound heavier than it already is. but if i strip it down to its simplest truth, it’s this: my little sister is the reason i’m still here.

i don’t remember how many times i’ve thought about disappearing. but i remember the first. i was twelve, i think, and she was five. there was a storm that day. the kind where the rain doesn’t fall, it pours. i was at a friend’s house when papa came to get me. he was already panicking, asking where my sister was. she wasn’t at home. she wasn’t with me. she wasn’t anywhere we could think to look. she was a friendly kid back then, always drifting from one neighbor’s house to another. some even called her their adopted child with how much time she spent hanging around our neighbors’ houses. but that day, no one had seen her. no one shouted “andito si gab!” and that was… terrifying. especially for a twelve year old panganay who knows that the blame would fall on her.

papa blamed me. which wasn’t surprising. he said i wasn’t watching her properly. that i cared more about my friends than my own sister. i remember the guilt hitting so hard it made me feel sick, like i was about to throw up but couldn’t. so i ran. i ran through the rain, stopping at every house, asking the same question over and over: have you seen a small, chubby girl with long hair and badly cut bangs? i was crying, wiping my face with shaking hands, not sure if it was rain or tears blurring my vision anymore. i remember going back to the house without my sister. i remember papa hitting me with an umbrella straight to my stomach. i remember running after that. i remember him throwing a pot my way (muntik pa akong matamaan sa mukha) before going out again to search for my sister.

i remember running until my feet hurt, running so fast i didn’t notice that i left the other pair of my slippers somewhere along the road. i remember not caring about it that time, only realizing it a few hours after. sayang ‘yon, mataas na slippers tapos original na barbie pa!

i remember praying harder than i ever had. please, just let her be safe. let me find her safe. i’ll be good. i’ll be better. i’ll do anything. and somewhere in between those prayers, another thought slipped in, quiet but certain: if i don’t find her today, i will kill myself.

after a few hours of searching and frantically crying (because wdym i can’t ask the police for help unless she’d been missing for 24 hours????), i went home and saw that she was safe. she was at a classmate’s house and she got stranded because of the rain (her classmate’s mom didn’t want her to go home earlier so it was basically her fault that my sister got stranded smh). i remember watching papa hug and scold her at the same time. i remember crying harder out of relief.

the thought of disappearing didn’t leave after that. it stayed, lodged quietly at the back of my mind. it became something my brain reached for too easily. an exit, a last resort, a solution that always seemed to be there. like a time bomb, always ticking. i almost got a failing grade? what if i kill myself? my tooth hurts so bad? what if i kill myself? my dad scolded me for not washing the dishes? what if i kill myself? it started with the simple things, only growing and growing the more i grow up. it seeps into my brain so effortlessly, as if it’s claiming its rightful place in my train of thoughts.

i used to think lifelines had to look dramatic; like a hand pulling you out of dark water, like a voice talking you down from an edge, or a good samaritan passing through and helping you when you’re having a shit day. i used to think that it would be so… enlightening. like me realizing there’s so much more to life than the ugly parts. or me realizing i have dreams to achieve and goals to accomplish. but no, surprising, it’s just my younger sister. fully grown now, still learning to be an adult, still complaining to me about childish things, still fighting with me over small things, still complaining to me about how i’m stealing her baggy shirts.

she’s an adult now. she has her own routines, her own life, her own set of problems that have nothing to do with me. and still, somehow, she is the most consistent reason i keep choosing to stay. there are still days when everything feels too heavy, when the future feels like a room I don’t know how to walk into. the difference now is that i don’t imagine disappearing in the same abstract way i used to. now there’s a face attached to that absence. a voice. a person who would notice the silence. whenever i have the urge to just disappear, i think of her. i think about the way she would sit with questions no one could answer. the way she would replay conversations, looking for signs she missed. the way she would try to make sense of something that has no clean explanation. and i can’t leave her with that kind of unfinished story. i can’t imagine how she would feel like if leave like that.

i can’t imagine what she’d have to go through if she’s the one to discover what i did. so i hang on, convince myself to stay a little longer. i try to see the beauty in life, more reasons to stay, appreciate the mundane. i try to shrug the urge off my brain (bgm: shake it off by taylor swift charot).

i lived the past decade like that. always thinking about ow my sister would feel if i were to kill myself, always looking for more reasons to stay. it works well. it gets tiring most of the time but i’m still here. still holding on, still choosing to stay.

then i met daryl, my girlfriend. which helped a lot. i used to not care about what the future holds, only caring about how i’d survive each day, the present. but now there’s more things to look forward to. the apartment we’d share, the cats we would be adopting, the trips we would go to together, the memories we’d make. she’s another reason for me to stay. because now, i’m not only thinking about how my sister would feel if i disappear, i think of her too. and she’d gone through many terrible things in her life that i would never put her to another stage of grief.

i’m still in the process of learning how to live for myself. and honestly? i’m not sure if i could ever do that. but hey, the most important thing here is that i’m still here. i may not fully understand what went wrong with my brain for it to be wired like this but i’m here. and i have enough time to figure that out.

i’m not exactly sure when or how it started, pero there’s this constant urge in me to know my partner’s past lovers. some people would probably call it retroactive jealousy, but honestly, that label doesn’t sit right with me. hindi siya gano’n at alam ko ring hindi siya gano’n kasi wala namang selos, wala ring hidden agenda to start arguments. i don’t compare myself to them, and i don’t see them as some kind of “standard” i need to live up to. it feels more like pure curiosity. curious lang talaga ako about who they are as a person and how they were like as a lover.

there’s something about understanding that part of my partner’s history that pulls me in. maybe it’s because i believe that we’re all shaped by the people we loved before. every relationship leaves a trace; a habit, a fear, a softness, a boundary. and if i can understand the people who once held my partner’s heart, maybe i can understand my partner more deeply too. not just who they are now, but how they became that person. i know naman na i can always ask, and daryl have always entertained my questions naman kahit no’ng friends pa lang kami pero iba rin kasi kapag hindi sakan’ya mismo galing. which is difficult! i mean… i can’t just hit them up and ask them how their past relationship was, ‘di ba? baka ma-brand pa ako as a crazy gf!

sometimes i catch myself wondering about the small things. what made them laugh? what kind of arguments did they have? were they gentle with each other or did they love loudly? did my partner love them in the same quiet way they love me now, or was it something entirely different?

ahsjahsajsa word and thought dump lang kasi i find myself thinking about the past relationships of my girlfriend. chika ko lang din… parehas ‘yung girlfriend ko and ‘yung ex ko na very lowkey sa social media ‘yung mga exes. LIKEEE. nahahanap ko nga, naka-private naman o kaya walang posts. as someone na chronically online na ang daming digital footprint, medyo nayayanig ako? HAHAHA. ewan ko ba!

pero i don’t think it’s about the past itself. it’s about the layers. the unseen parts of a person that you only begin to understand when you look at where they’ve been. a quiet attempt to know someone more fully, even the versions of them that existed before me. and siguro, may konting contradiction din doon. because while i want to understand those past versions, i also know na there are things that aren’t mine to access. may mga kwento na hindi na para ulitin, may mga detalye na hindi na kailangang hukayin. curiosity can feel gentle, but it can also cross lines if i’m not careful. kaya minsan i sit with it instead of acting on it. hinahayaan ko na lang siyang maging tanong na walang sagot. kasi maybe the point isn’t to know everything. maybe the point is to trust that whatever happened before me led my partner here (to me) and that should be enough.

pero ayun nga, hindi ko rin ma-deny na minsan napapaisip pa rin ako. lalo na sa panahon ngayon na halos lahat may digital footprint. ang dali dapat maghanap, ang dali dapat makakita ng clues about who they were together. pero in my case? parang wala. parehas lowkey, parehas halos invisible online. LIKE… paano??? HAHAHA. as someone na chronically online at sanay na may resibo ang lahat, medyo nakakapanibago na may mga taong hindi documented ang love life nila. and weirdly, that makes them even more intriguing. parang mas maraming blanks to fill in, mas maraming “what ifs” na naiisip. pero at the same time, it also reminds me na not everything has to be archived or explained. may mga love stories talagang umiiral lang sa moment tapos nawawala without leaving anything behind but the people they changed.

siguro iyon din ang pinaka-point nito for me. that love doesn’t have to be visible to be real, and the past doesn’t have to be fully known to be respected. and maybe, just maybe, i don’t need to know them to understand my partner. maybe it’s enough to know who they are with me now. and to keep choosing that version of them, every day. kasi in the end, hindi naman ako bahagi ng past nila. and they’re not asking me to be. i’m here, in the present, where love is actually happening (pero kasi nacucurious tlg ako???? hajhsjahsa ainang utak yan)

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tahimik ang paligid ilang minuto bago ang paglubog ng araw. naghahalo ang iba’t ibang kulay ng kahel, dilaw, at minsan pa nga’y pula sa saglit na pagsabog ng mga kulay sa langit bago ito tuluyang kainin ng dilim ng gabi, pangunahing hudyat na matatapos na naman ang araw. naka-angkas ako noon sa MoveIt at para maka-iwas sa traffic, nag shortcut si kuya sa isang pribadong subdivision.

“ganda ng langit dito ‘no, ma’am?” nawala ako sa pagmumunimuni noong nagsalita ‘yung driver. nakangiti naman akong tumango, kala mo talaga kita ni kuya rider e. “oo nga ho, e. parang mas malawak ang langit dito.”

“’di ka ba laking subdivision, ma’am?”

“hindi po, e.”

“ang payapa sigurong mamuhay dito ‘no? araw-araw mong makikita ‘yung langit nang walang mga poste at wire na sisira sa view mo. ‘di rin ako laking subdivision, ma’am, pero madalas akong magkaroon ng mga pasaherong nagpapahatid dito.”

“masaya sigurong maglakad lakad dito, kuya. wala gaanong sasakyan, ‘di tulad sa labas na kada lingon mo eh parang may bumubusinang sasakyan.” tawa lang ang sinagot ni kuya, ‘yung klase ng tawa na parang nagsasabi na “di ka pa nasanay, ma’am!” pero totoo naman, hindi ka makakapaglakad nang matiwasay sa pilipinas. pili lang ‘yung mga walkable cities sa metro manila.

“ay nako, ma’am. kapag naglakad ka sa mga kalye ng maynila habang panakaw nakaw na sumusulyap sa langit, baka ‘di mo na lang mamalayan na si san pedro na ‘yung kaharap mo!” tawa na lang ang naisagot ko kay kuya. paano, maingay na ulit ang kalsada. binabaybay na namin ‘yung totoong daan pauwi; talipapa, mga batang mas matapang pa sa mga sasakyan na naglalaro sa kalye, mga poste at buhol buhol na wire, mga binatilyong nag-m-ML sa tapat ng tindahan, masikip na ang mga eskenita dito.

“dito na lang ho, kuya. salamat po. ingat kayo!” “kayo rin po, ma’am!”

maglalakad pa ako nang ilang kanto bago makarating sa bahay, hassle naman kasi kay kuya kung padadaanin ko pa siya eh ang sikip ng daan. paano, may mga naka-park na sasakyan saka traysikel o motor sa dapat e daanan ng tao!

may mga araw na nalulungkot ako tuwing umuuwi ng bahay, lalo na kapag dumadaan kami sa mga pribadong subdivision. ewan, siguro kasi medyo may kirot sa dibdib kapag nakikita ko na ‘yung pangarap ko e normal lang sa iba. Iparang i’m dreaming of someone’s birthright, ika nga nila.

pangarap ko ‘yon, e. tumira sa isang exclusive subdivision. kahit maglakad ako pauwi mula gate hanggang sa mismong bahay, okay lang sa’kin. basta tahimik at payapa ang daang tatahakin ko, mga bahay na napapalibutan ng mga halaman, malawak at patag na kalsada, at tanaw na tanaw ang langit.

speaking of pangarap… alam niyo ba, tuwing tinatanong ako noon kung ano ang pangarap ko, lagi kong sinasabing gusto kong maging doktor. o ‘di naman kaya’y abogada. minsan ko ring sinabing gusto kong maging guro. paiba-iba ako ng sinasagot. ang hindi nila alam, wala akong pangarap na propesyon. ‘di ko naman p’wedeng sabihin sakanila ‘yon kasi medyo mataas ang expectations sa’kin. ano na lang iisipin nila kung malaman nilang ‘yong batang laging naghahakot ng medalya e walang pangarap na propesyon diba? ‘d ko rin naman p’wedeng sabihin na “pangarap ko pong tumira sa exclusive subdivision!” kasi ang sukatan nila ng pangarap, o ng tagumpay, ay kung anong magiging propesyon mo pagkatapos ng kolehiyo. eh wala ngani!

matagal din bago ko ‘yan natanggap sa sarili. matagal din bago ko natanggap na simple lang ang pangarap ko sa buhay. mamuhay nang kumportable, hindi kailangan sobrang daming pera. tumira sa exclusve subdivision, kahit walang sasakyan basta maaliwalas ang uuwian ko tuwing galing ng trabaho.

may mga araw pa rin na nanliliit ako tuwing napaguusapan ang mga pangarap o mga gustong marating sa buhay. lahat ng kaibigan ko, professional na. may nagttrabaho bilang guro, bilang nars, nag-t-take ng med school, nasa law school, nasa media o marketing, meron ding nasa gobyerno na! ako? ito, palutang-lutang lang, kumakayod para magkaroon ng pagkain sa mesa, para may pambili ng pagkain ng pusa ko, para may maiabot kay mama para kahit paano e makatulong sa mga bayarin sa bahay, para may pang sustento sa mga simple kong luho.

ayos naman ako sa trabaho ko ngayon. medyo malaki ang sahod kasi above minimum wage pero walong oras kang mumog sa calls, walong oras ka ring magdadasal na sana hindi matapat sa’yo ‘yong irate na kano na kung makapagsalita e akala mo sila ang nagbabayad sa’yo. matinding lunok na lang; pasok sa isang tenga, labas sa kabila. walang personalan. pero minsan, dala siguro ng pagod at kasalatan, napupuno ako ng inggit (for the lack of a better term!) inggit sa mga taong may pangarap, lalo na sa mga may kakayanang sustentuhan ‘yung mga pangarap nila. inggit sa mga taong namumuhay nang kumportable, sa mga pinanganak at lumaki sa subdivision, sa taong mga hindi namulat sa bayarin at utang bago pa man makatapos ng pag-aaral. nalam ko namang sinigurado ni mama na kumportable kaming mamumuhay, kahit pa hindi nabibili lahat ng luho, basta may pang tuition, pangkain, matitirhan, ayos na kami. sa ganitong buhay ko rin naman natutunan kung paano pahalagahan lahat ng bagay, kahit pa ‘yung maliliit man sa paningin ng iba. at kahit na gusto ko pa sana ng mas kumportable pa dito, laking pasasalamat ko rin naman kay mama. wonder woman ko ‘yan, e!

neways, balik sa usapang pangarap. hindi ko pa rin ‘to kayang sabihin sa iba kasi feeling ko may expectations pa rin sila sa’kin (lalo na mga kamaganakan ko haha ano ba) pero kaya ko ng sabihin sa sarili ko firmly kung ano talagang pangarap ko.

pangarap kong tumira sa isang exclusive subdivision. ay malalaking bintana, hindi kailangan na high ceiling, basta big enough to cover the whole living room with natural light. gusto ko na napapalibutan ng mga halaman ang labas ng bahay, yung mga halaman na madali lang alagaan at buhayin. gusto ko may space ako for gardening tapos gusto ko may tanim na bougainvillea at kalachuchi para hitik na hitik ang mga bulaklak tuwing tag-init. gusto kong personal touch lahat ng furniture at display sa bahay, mas maigi kung manggagaling sa mga thrift shops at japan surplus yung furnitures. mismatched pero it works. gusto ko cozy yung buong bahay, mula sa garden hanggang sa sala pati kusina at lalo na sa mga kwarto.

pangarap ko ring makasama si daryl sa out of town trip o kaya out of the country na trip. gusto kong makasama siya nang walang time restrictions, nang legal sa pamilya niya kung saan siya pupunta at kung sino ang kasama niya. pangarap kong libutin ang pilipinas kasama siya tapos ipagkukumpara namin yung mga probinsyang napuntahan na namin, yung mga lasa ng bawat local dishes, kung gaano kabait ang mga locals sa’min. gusto kong libutin ang mundo nang hindi nagmamadali, nang hindi nagtatago.

pangarap ko ring bigyan ng magandang buhay retirement si mama at papa. yung tipong wala na silang aalalahaning bayarin. chill na lang sila, pa-walking walking sa umaga, manonood o magbabasa sa tanghali hanggang hapon. si papa bubutingtingin ang mga bisikleta niya, si mama manonood ng chinese drama sa reels. sabay kaming tatlo na kukulitin si gab na lutuan kami ng kung anu-anong pagkain.

sabi nila kapag daw mangangarap ka, siguraduhin mong mataas at malaki na. kasi libre lang naman daw. pero paano kung ganito lang kasimple talaga yung mga pangarap ko? walang kailangang patunayan kahit kanino, sinasamsam lang bawat minuto ng buhay nang walang inaalalang mga problema? i don’t know why i’m built like this pero wala, e. ewan!

naisulat ko lang ‘to kasi narealize ko na my batchmates are out there getting their licenses and fulfilling their dreams and the only thing i got after college is a diagnosis HAJSHAJSHA i swear this punch line is funnier in person T-T

they say that a diagnosis is not a life sentence but it surely felt like one when i got mine.

nakakatawa slight kasi i’m not usually one to compare my life sa iba kasi sabi nga ng bini ay buhay ay ‘di karera! wala tayong timeline na sinusundan, wala tayong ibang kakumpetensya bukod sa sarili natin, kaya what’s the point of comparing ‘di ba? pero ewan, naisip ko lang how other people are out there chasing their dreams, celebrating one milestone at a time, tapos ako, eto, ginagapang mabuhay.

i was diagnosed with bipolar disorder (current episode hypomanic). ‘di naman ako nalungkot do’n pero ate ko, they put me back on olanzapine (and valproic acid) aka my greatest enemy, my most toxic ex. eme! i asked him if it’s necessary since wala naman akong hallucinations. oo raw, kahit wala raw, need ko pa rin i-take to manage the mood swings. last time i took it was five years ago and hanggang ngayon traumatized (si over talaga napaka-oa) pa rin ako sa side effects niya. i remember being zombified, para akong lantang gulay. sinabi ko ‘yon kay doc tas pinagalita niya ako slightly kasi 4 days ko lang ininom. he said that i need to make tiis and take it consistently so my body can adjust. so kahit labag sa loob ko, i made a promise to take it consistently. o is ver na kung o is ver pero bumagsak talaga sa tiyan ko yung puso ko nung nakita ko yan sha sa reseta. RAWR.

may tiktok ako na nakita a few days ago. yung ano, yung “i don’t want to be medicated for the rest of my life but i want MY life” and maybe that’s enough muna to try to get by every day for now. kahit pa para akong nanlalata buong araw. HAHAHA.

‘di ko rin alam kung bakit ko ‘to sinusulat. na-w-word dump lang talaga ako. parang kailangan ko lang siya ialabas somewhere.

the bus leaves at seven, which in manila time means you should be leaving the house at five if you’re from fairview. unless mag-m-move it ka, which will cut the travel time by half kung harurot yung rider mo. the terminal is alive, buzzing, despite the ungodly hours. vendors are setting up their stalls, people from and bound to different places holding onto their bags, boxes and plastic bags wrapped in tape literally everywhere. there are people rushing, sleeping, resting, patiently waiting for the next trip to somewhere (i assume) quieter than cubao.

i’m one of the patiently waiting ones. arriving at the terminal an hour and a half early. paano, takot maubusan ng ticket bilang biglaan naman ‘to, wala nang oras to make a reservation online. okay lang naman sa’kin maghintay. kasi sabi nga ni eric, ang nagmamahal ang laging nagihhintay. keme! i don’t mind waiting in places filled with people. source material din kaya ang pag people watch! (biro lang, umidlip talaga ako habang naghihintay)(which is, btw, not recommended if you’re traveling alone)

“iba, zambales. baba ng san felipe public market.” i kept repeating those words over and over again, like a prayer. prayer na sana hindi ako lumagpas sa bababaan o maligaw. i’m not really a “go out when you feel sad” kind of person. one thing about me that i’ve been actively trying to change bilang isa sa new year’s resolution ko ay to go out more! pero going out alone? lalabas lang talaga ako ng bahay mag-isa kung may kailangan akong gawin. i would rather stay at home than stroll the mall or make gala alone. so a solo travel out of town (even though it’s just a few hours drive from manila) is very out of character for me. very scary, too (tinotoo talaga niya yung do scary things this year oh)

dumating ako sa san felipe mga around 12 noon, dumaan ako sa palengke para bumili ng mga gamit na mabigat sa bag kaya sabi ko dito na lang ako bibili. towel, shower essentials, water. after that quick market run, i headed to the resort na. it was a dorm type accommodation pero solo ko yung room since weekday ako pumunta. rested saglit and freshened up before heading out.

internet people said that liwliwa is one of the best places to go to when you’re traveling solo. accessible and affordable. totoo naman! you can go literally everywhere by foot kasi tabi-tabi lang naman halos yung mga dinadayo talaga dito. usually mga cafes at kainan. be careful lang when you’re walking sa beach kasi ANG DAMING ATV jusko po. truth be told, ‘di masyadong maganda yung dagat nila. or baka biased lang ako kasi white/yellow-ish sand enjoyer ako? pero ang lakas din kasi ng alon so it was nearly impossible na maligo sa dagat kung hindi ka marunong lumangoy (me) at wala kang kasama (me again). special mention ulit sa mga ATV na panira sa chill vibes ng lugar, chz.

i went to liwa without a goal. i was supposed to go with a friend pero dahil demanding ang course niya (dentistry), hindi siya natuloy. i wasn’t supposed to push through pero last minute decision na “sige na nga kahit ako na lang mag-isa.” alam ko namang wala masyadong activities sa liwa (unless mag cove hopping ka or go outside san felipe) pero dahil taong bahay nga ako na allergic sa outdoor activities, i opted to explore liwa lang talaga. i walked and walked and walked. firm ako sa decision ko to walk all throughout my stay there. to the beach, back to the resort, to the resto or cafe of the day, back to the beach, then back to the resort again. it was surprisingly fun naman. tumambay lang ako sa kung saan man matripan, magbabasa ng libro na dala ko (rf kuang’s babel) o kaya mag-j-journal. three days and two nights akong gano’n lang ang routine. it was fun. nabuhay ulit yung fantasy ko na tumira sa dagat. malayo sa lahat, malayo sa ingay ng syudad.

second night ko no’n, nagyoyosi ako sa may tindahan sa tabing dagat, nakaupo sa isang kubo habang hinihintay yung inihaw na mais. side note: pabalik na ako sa resort nung nadaanan ko yung nagiihaw ng mais tas nacurious ako so triny ko. side note sa side note: hindi siya masarap HSAJSHAJSA. ayon nga, habang nagyoyosi, may lalaking umupo sa tapat ko, may dalang red horse. nag-initiate ng small talk. chikahan lang kami do’n. sinamahan niya rin ako maglakad pabalik sa resort pero sabi niya usap daw muna kami saglit, kahit sa tapat lang, kasi buryo na siyang walang kausap. um-oo naman ako kasi nacurious din ako kasi apparently, he rents out his van tapos siya rin nag-d-drive kaya wala siyang kasama. marami-rami rin kaming napag-usapan pero sabi ko i need to go inside by 9M kasi curfew (11 pa talaga nagsasara yung main gate pero gusto ko na kasi maligo at humiga). at saka, i have very little energy and patience interacting with straight men. sorry pi!

(side note: they said liwa sunsets are breathtaking. medyo na-disappoint ako kasi ‘di gano’n kakulay yung sunset pero baka wrong timing lang ahsjahsas)

ang daming wuhluhwuh sa liwliwa. naglipana ang mga bading! medyo nalungkot ako kasi gusto ko rin yon. i want to have out of town trips with daryl, too. explore unfamiliar places, tick off highly recommended touristy spots, and discover hidden gems na hindi gaanong kilala. medyo far fetched pa siya ngayon given out circumstances pero still hoping na we’d have a chance to try it. akala ko dati frustrating na yung walang budget for date pero mas frustrating pala yung meron ka namang budget pero ‘di pa rin ma-push through. HASJHAJSHASA.

exploring an unfamiliar place made me slow down. i wasn’t paying too much attention to my phone because there were literally a hundred more interesting things to notice. it reminded me of the small miracles happening in the mundane, in the moments that feel almost too small to matter. like the sound of sand under your slippers as you walk back to the resort at night. the glow of warm lights from little cafes tucked between the trees (special mention to lot 71 pls if you ever find yourself in liwa, give this cafe a chance). it’s the stories the locals would share you, happily. the sound of someone playing music somewhere nearby, just loud enough to drift into the background of everything else. like the gentle breeze setting the wind chimes to sing. or how a cat curls up and purrs softly under the afternoon sun. how the waves crash and retreat in their own stubborn rhythm. how a beam of sunlight slips through the leaves, turning drifting dust into floating specks of gold.

it’s in the way tricycle drivers laugh when they catch you filming in the middle of the road. in the stranger’s detailed instructions on how to get to the nearest cafe. in the way the resort staff casually recommends their favorite spot for sunset. in the distant hum of atvs passing by the shore (ANNOYING). in the quiet clinking of bottles from a sari-sari store refrigerator. in the smell of grilled food drifting through the air just as the sun starts to set.

small miracles happen in the most ordinary days. not always to you, no, but always right in front of you. always just waiting to be noticed. and when you’re paying attention, you’ll find yourself lucky enough to bear witness to them. these small miracles will remind you that the world keeps moving at its own quiet pace. that life doesn’t always have to be rushed. that sometimes the best thing you can do is sit by the sea, listen to the wind moving through the plants, and let the day pass slowly around you.

i went there without expectations (kasi nga hindi white sand at biased ako), but i left a little charmed, a little enchanted by the quiet pull of liwliwa. nothing grand was really happening, and yet the day never felt empty. life moved slowly there. in small, almost forgettable moments that somehow lingered longer than the big ones. and for a little while, i was simply there too. no rush, no grand plan, just another passing presence by the sea, quietly folded into the slow, ordinary magic of the place.

AYON LANG NAMAN. share ko lang din na i brought hiwono dawyl with me literally everywhere.

p.s

one of the biggest challenge for me was the food. since i was traveling alone, i didnt have anyone to share the food with and mabilis akong mabusog huhu. parang one meal is enough and nanghinayang ako mag-order when i’m still full naman. hmp.

despite his “kengkong” nature, my father used to be a very angry man. much of what i remember from my childhood is just him shouting, throwing things, cursing, and the ever so classic pamamalo. i learned what his footsteps sound like and how to read his tone of voice. i was always too careful not to anger him, always walking on eggshells around him. i didn’t understand it when i was younger, much more so when i was in high school.

they say that your teen years are your rebellious years. you do and try things you shouldn’t be doing at that age. mine wasn’t like that, mine was just watering the seeds of anger and resentment planted by my father. i was so resentful, so angry at him for raising us the way that he did. wala na akong masyadong maalala sa childhood ko or sa teenage years ko pero ang dami kong naaalala na pinapagalitan o pinapalo ako. one time, nung grade 8 ako, nagkaroon ako ng lagnat sa school tapos pinatawag siya para sunduin ako. ang bungad sa’kin pag-uwi namin sa bahay? sermon. sermon muna bago niya ako nilutuan ng arroz caldo na may paa ng manok kasi alam niyang paborito ko ‘yon.

galit ako sa tatay ko noon. galit ako kasi masyado niyang pinairal yung kamay na bakal kineme sa pagpapalaki sa’min ng kapatid ko. galit ako kasi lagi siyang galit, laging nakasimangot, laging nakasigaw. galit ako kasi hindi siya emotionally present. nitong nakaraang taon ko lang na-let go yung galit ko kasi mas naiintindihan ko na siya ngayon. sinubukan kong aralin kung saan nagmula lahat ng galit niya, kung bakit mainitin ang ulo niya, at kung bakit gano’ng klaseng ama siya. walang kahit anong makakapag-justify ng mga ginawa niya pero atleast ngayon, i can extend some understanding and compassion towards him.

my father had to work his ass off at an early age, elementary pa lang nangangalakal na siya ng basura sa palengke para may maibigay na pera kay lola. middle child siya, pang-apat sa pitong magkakapatid pero siya at ang panganay na kuya niya lang ang matinong nagtaguyod sa pamilya nila noon. yung iba? mga pasaway, laging inuuna ang bisyo at babae. naikwento rin ni papa noon na madalas siyang nakawan ng pera ng panganay na babaeng kapatid niya. nakwento niya rin na noong grumaduate siya ng elementary, nanghiram lang si lola ng pantalon sa pinsan niya para may maayos na damit si papa. na yung pulang sapatos na gamit niya no’n ay napulot lang niya sa basurahan. my father had to be on survival mode at a very young age, in all aspects, not just the emotional. he had to go through lengths to make sure they won’t starve. he didn’t have the time to learn how to care for himself, or others, emotionally. nadala niya ‘yon kahit no’ng nagkaroon na siya ng sariling pamilya.

when my parents had me, they had an agreement that one of them needs to stay at home to take care of me. my father was the one who took on the role, very against the gender roles and stereotypes sa families. we were taught in school that the father should be the one working for the family while the mother needs to stay at home to take care of the family. i grew up differently. my father was the one who does the laundry, who cooks, who takes care of us. si papa rin yung naka-toka na mag-ayos sa’kin noon bago pumasok ng school kaya siguro palaging maikli buhok ko. kasi ‘di siya marunong magtali. pero sa kapatid ko, siya ‘yung nagtatali. ponytail na pagka-higpit higpit. my father had to sacrifice his career, a good paying one at that, for the family and life that he was building with my mother.

my father isn’t a gentle father. he doesn’t know how to apologize. or how to reprimand nicely. he doesn’t know how to talk to me about emotions or thoughts. he doesn’t even say “i love you” other than typing it on chat or on a facebook post. even his normal speaking voice may be mistaken as shouting if you don’t know him well. he doesn’t know how to show his love and care the usual way. but he does know how to cook. apologies come in dishes served hot, in food that that tastes good, in questions of “anong gusto mong ulam?” or “may sinigang d’yan sa mesa, kumain ka na?” he shows his love in doing laundry, in making sure our uniforms are ironed, in cleaning the house so we don’t have to worry about having a good place to study or rest, and in every “ingat ka” when we go out. he loves and cares for us in ways he knows how.

kapag nagtalo kami, siya man ‘yung mali o ako, kinabukasan may nakahain na paborito kong ulam sa mesa. kapag may prutas o pagkain akong nagustuhan, bibili ‘yan ng sangkatutak hanggang maumay ako. hindi niya nilalagyan ng paminta o sili ‘yung mga niluluto niya kasi alam niyang ayaw ko ng kahit anong hint ng spice sa pagkain. lahat ng pagmamahal na hindi niya alam kung paano i-express, binubuhos niya sa pagluluto.

my father wasn’t the sweetest or the kindest but he always did his best to take care of us, to raise us. he has a lot of ways that i do not agree with but i would never ask for more. ang cheesy and ang corny but despite his shortcomings, he is the best father that i could ever ask for. mainitin pa rin ang ulo niya pero mas kalmado na siya ngayon, kumpara dati. wala ng galit sa puso ko, puro pagmamahal at pagunawa na lang. at maraming maraming pasasalamat.

anyways..,, random dump kasi i asked him to install shelves sa walls ng kwarto ko and he was hotheaded as usual but he still did it. and in return, i bought him some marlboro sticks. forever grateful for him.

also another skl, a poem i wrote about him that i will never let him read.

what comes after a hypomanic episode isn’t always a dramatic crash. not the cinematic kind, a montage of rotting in bed, straight-up depression, an existential free fall. sometimes it’s quieter than that. silence. muted, dull, fucking heavy. the kind of silence that aches because it marks the place where momentum used to live. it makes you question whether that momentum was earned or if it was just a fleeting moment caused by emotional turbulence. it’s not so easy to accept that, to come to terms that the “better” and “brighter” version of you is just a collateral of a chemically imbalanced brain. but hey, is there anything we can do about it than just… accept it?

apparently, yes. there’s something worse than a crash, something quieter and far more corrosive: repression. you know what you’re feeling, but you tuck it away. you tell yourself you’ll deal with it later. just not now. emotions leak out sideways, you cry over something trivial, snap at nothing, but you shut that down too. you know this will come back to hurt you. you know it always does. but you can’t force your body, your nervous system, to feel safe enough to let go.

maybe this is just how you’re wired. or maybe you’ve been doing this for so long, unconsciously, that you don’t remember how not to. it comes easily now. big, terrifying emotions? no problem. shut them down. deal with them later. or never. and when you finally feel ready to process them, you realize you can’t. the door is locked. access denied. still, you know they’re there. lodged somewhere deep, waiting patiently for the right moment to detonate. it sounds morbid. it sounds helpless. but really... what else is there to do but wait til it blows?

while you wait, you feel insane. your mind feels overcrowded and hollow at the same time. loud and empty. you don’t know what’s wrong or how to fix it. you just know you’re stuck. but hey, at least you’re not constantly thinking about hurting yourself anymore. you have more restraint now than you did a few years ago. that has to count for something. that’s a silver lining. right?

right. except that kind of right feels flimsy. like paper stretched too thin. like you’re always one bad day away from tearing through it. it feels like a conversation that ended abruptly. not because it was resolved, but because you were too exhausted to keep going. because you know, deep down, that restraint is not the same thing as relief.

still, repression works. restraint works. together, they’ve kept you alive. employed. functioning. they stopped you from detonating your life when you couldn’t afford to lose anything. they kept you safe. even if that safety came at the cost of locking your emotions in the basement of your mind, sealed off and inaccessible. you want to punish yourself for that. you really do. but you know it wouldn’t help. because as long as your body believes it’s unsafe, there’s no convincing it to let go. so you settle. for containment. for repression.

and your thoughts drift back (again) to how you felt when you were manic. how fast your mind moved. how creative you became. how confident you were, how you didn’t second-guess every word and action the way you normally do. you were intense. radiant. unstoppable. it felt like waking up one morning as the person you were always supposed to be. a version of you who could handle more. do more. be more. more. more. always more. more than your original self could ever reach.

your engines were revving. you made big plans, plans you genuinely believed you’d follow through with. you filled notebooks with ideas, business ventures, lifestyle changes that felt not just possible, but inevitable. you made plans with friends months in advance. you spent money recklessly. you barely slept. you forgot to eat. and somehow, in all that chaos, you felt more alive than you ever had.

and then it ends. someone behind the cameras yells CUT. stop rolling. that’s a wrap.
and you’re left alone with the familiar cast: doubt, self-loathing, confusion, and the rest of the gang. welcome back, they say. here’s the latest update on who we think you are now. you act surprised that somehow, after every episode, you return worse than before. burdened with plans you no longer have the energy to execute, haunted by a version of yourself you can’t sustain. back at square one. no idea how to get up. no idea how you’re really feeling. what you do know is that your body is once again shutting down the very emotions you need to process. but how are you supposed to access them when your own body and mind are standing guard? the contradictions pile up. the confusion multiplies. your brain is exhausted. so eventually, you stop fighting it. you give your body what it asks for. you survive. you eat. you sleep. you work. you distract yourself. and you wait.

you wait to see what comes first. another hypomanic episode, or the moment your body finally decides it’s safe enough to release everything you’ve been holding back?

whichever comes first doesn’t really matter. may it be another episode. or release. you’ll be in this cycle for life anyways. so good luck, i guess…?

my girlfriend and i are in a long distance relationship; fairview and las pinas (before she eventually moved to cebu for work) so we’re pretty much used to the distance and everything that comes with it. we talk everyday. and even if our days get hectic, we would always end it on call to have a brief catch up when we both have the energy to do so or just sleep knowing that the other is on the other line (over naman sa other).

we were doing great with the set-up. just the usual challenges with LDR, typical lovers’ quarrel when we fail to express ourselves through the phone. but the universe said “hey i think i’m going too easy on you” so it decided to send my girlfriend away. for five months. on training. with no communication. parang pbb na they can only interact with their fellow trainees and other house guests. only that i completely have no idea what she’s going through, no livestream or episodes to watch to make sure she’s okay.

they had a week break before their jump off so we had the chance to spend time with each other. i stayed at a friend’s house in paranaque so it would be easier for us to meet (she’s from las pinas).

we went to maginhawa (oo, sa south kami both galing pero dumayo pa rin kami sa kyusi HAHA) to try namnam and cộng cà phê.

the drive to and from was longer than the time we spent together, dumaan pa kami ng skyway sa lagay na ‘yon, ha. she kept on apologizing for it and kept saying na i deserve better daw and thanking me for understanding. she then shared me her worry na sometimes, when her brain wins, she thinks “hanggang kailan?” and asked if nagtitiis lang daw ba ako. if i’m just settling. i told her na iba ‘yung tinitiis lang sa talagang naiintindihan mo. i assured her na what she’s giving me is more than enough given the circumstance she has and that i am more than grateful for that.

she has been in training for four days now. four days of no communication, no news about her, no idea what she’s up to, how she’s coping, how she’s feeling. i was prepared for it naman pero what i wasn’t prepared for is receiving a message from her on telegram. i sobbed when i read that kasi she knows na she won’t be able to contract me so she scheduled messages para kahit paano may matanggap ako from her. there she assured me na she’s doing okay and that time will pass and that she’ll be going home soon. she also sent me a playlist that i could listen to on days that i miss her a bit more. ang cute lang kasi she’s the type of person na ‘di nag-p-playlist. lahat ng pinapakinggan niya, asa liked songs lang (weird! charot)

ang funny nga rin kasi i was checking my personal email tapos nakita ko may email from flowerstore. apparently, she arranged an advance order for valentines. ang epic fail lang kasi she used my email and i think she didn’t know na masesend sa’kin ‘yung order details HAHAHA.

wala lang, chika ko lang kasi i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind. HAHAHA. i’m more than grateful to have a partner like her. to feel cared for and so, so loved despite the distance. there are days when i realize i don’t feel her absence as sharply as i thought i would. not because i miss her less but because she made sure i wouldn’t feel so lonely. naiiyak ako kamo when i think about how she fiddled with telegram’s features to schedule messages when she could’ve spent it preparing for her training or resting just to make sure na she’s doing something for me. naaamaze ako how she’s still making life bearable and lighter kahit nasa ganitong sitwasyon kami.

i used to pray for a love like this for the kind of love that stays. despite the distance, despite the absence. (i miss u lods uwi k n plsplspls nangungulila na yung eabab d2 oh chz)

may this kind of love finds you, too.

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mas kumportable akong magsulat ng mga tula kesa ng mga sanaysay. siguro dahil kalat kalat madalas ‘yong thoughts ko kaya i always end up feeling overwhelmed? the blocks of paragraphs are intimidating and i often get repetitive with it.

a little fun fact about me: i have a degree in literature. yep, an actual four year bachelor’s degree. i spent four years in college reading and analyzing literary pieces, both classics and modern, and writing. a fuck ton of writing. my program is technically a writing program and i knew that when i enrolled (trust me, i knew that writing is necessary here) but that didn’t stop me from pursuing it. i have always been scared of writing. i’ve never written anything outside my academic requirements back in high school, and most importantly? i never wanted to write.

writing has a reputation for being quiet, subtle, personal, and solitary. it’s just between you and your writing materials, may it be your laptop or your go-to pen and notebook, and maybe with some things you incorporate with your writing ritual. but that’s it, it’s just you and your thoughts. when you write, you are being forced (not literally) to sit with yourself, to sit with your thoughts, your emotions. and that what scares me the most. by writing, you are actually giving yourself a chance to speak, a chance to be honest, a chance to process things. you might sit down intending to write something clever or safe, and instead uncover jealousy, ambition, grief, or anger. big emotions you’d rather not name. they all sound pretty scary for a girl who believes she doesn’t deserve to take up any space.

pero ayon nga, takot akong magsulat pero tinapos ko ‘yung apat na taon na writing heavy program. HAHAHA. talk about questionable life decisions. i have never written anything personal, lahat sila puro for academic compliance lang. until second year of college when we had a creative non-fiction course and the requirements were all… personal, non-fiction ngani. we were tasked to write a personal collection of non-fiction pieces under our chosen genre. i chose poetry and prose, something more epistolary. that was pretty much the first time that i wrote something very personal. it didn’t end well! i got a 2.0 (1.0 being the highest in our curriculum). my prof said that the collection was all over the place, messy, and that it didn’t have a clear central theme. that broke my heart. i know that writing is very heavy on constructive and very honest criticism (also why i was scared of it) but i still got pretty discouraged by that experience. after some time tho, i realized that the reason why the collection was so fucking messy is because i was still writing for compliance. it was non-fiction, it was personal, but i intentionally made it vague, masked. pretentious. it wasn’t personal at all.

my cnf prof’s feedback. sakit talaga nito!

i think that was also the first time i realized how revealing writing is. it exposes your feelings, vulnerabilities, dreams, ambitions, fears. you can be a pretentious writer, hop on trends and never write anything for your sake and always for the sake of your audience. pero that is gonna be so exhausting. good luck with the burn out! trust me, the poems i wrote for that subject was so pretentious it ended up being so messy.

i actually managed to dig that file from my college folder and MAEM i can’t read it with a straight face. i swear. it was so bad. pero hey, cringe is fun, maybe! let me share you some of the poems i wrote for that req. pls don’t judge this was written in 2022!

excerpts(??) from my cnf output

i refused to write anything after that kasi pinersonal ko talaga but i eventually got over it. the first time i wrote something personal, not out of academic compliance, but simply because i wanted to express myself is when i wrote a whole collection of poems while at work. there was a lot of free time and i was feeling big emotions for someone. i just had to write about it. i wanted to get it out of my head, to stop thinking about it, and so i wrote. the poems are still pretty… cringe-worthy but at least they weren’t pretentious. or baka they were? HAHA. i made a zine pero hindi ko mahanap yung file ko na edited so share ko na lang some of my rough drafts HAHAHAHA.

excerpts(??) from my first zine

a few months after that, i wrote a poem for my then fwb (now gf!) and performed it in a spoken poetry event held by third thursdays. ang laking jump. but ever since then, i became more comfortable with writing and sharing my works to other people. it started with just close friends, then to anyone who wanted to read it, then to just putting it somewhere for others to find. i spent the last two years of college enjoying writing. wow moment, chz.

we had a subject on our fourth year that required the whole class to make a collaborative zine. p’wedeng short stories, flash fiction, poems. s’yempre andon ako sa poems category!

excerpts(??) from the class zine

i also wrote a collection as a personal project before i graduated college and that was pretty much the last time i wrote something i am proud of. that was a year ago. HAHA. it was a LOT pero let me share you my top four faves. and if you ever get interested to read the whole thing, just let me know! :]

excerpts(??) from my last project

ayon lang naman. i’m still scared of writing pero somehow, it is more bearable now. i still can’t confidently claim na i’m a writer because i honestly don’t feel like one but hey what matters is that i’m writing, right? SKASJASA. yon lng thnx, namiss ko magsulat ng tula.

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photos from pinterest

lately my algorithm has been speaking to me in a very personal level. different social media, different algorithms, different daily screen time, but they’ve been telling me the exact same thing: start now.

i consider myself a very good planner (disclaimer: not the yearly planner that i bring everywhere type of planner). i like the idea of planning things, outlining projects, researching materials, and writing down the step-by-step process on how to do a specific project. i think it’s one of my strengths but is also my biggest flaw. i like the very detailed theoretical approach on things but i find it difficult to put them into action. maybe i’m just lazy or i don’t enough money to fund or sustain my project or maybe i’m scared. maybe all of the above?

what comes after planning should be action, execution. but what i do, most of the time if not always, is leave them where i wrote them and try to forget about them (until my brain bugs me to revisit it after a few months or years and regret not doing anything). my plans are usually well-researched thanks to my neurodivergent brain that just dives into the rabbit hole whenever i get interested.

planning, for me, is a comfort zone. i can never do anything wrong with it as long as i do my research properly. i can write as many outlines as i can, imagine all of the outcomes that i can come up with, i can even list down a few ideas to expand that project. everything is perfect in the planning stage because you do not have real exposure. you’re not wasting money on materials, you’re not getting frustrated with making mistakes (that leads to wasting materials), you’re not getting any kind of actual exposure to the risks that it may entail. with planning, you can anticipate the wrong turns without having to face the consequences of it. and so that’s what i did. so many project ideas that i’ve prepared for only to drop them when i’m a step away from making it come to life.

i don’t want to jinx it but right now, i am in the middle of preparing for a small business that i want to venture in. a pretty expensive hobby that i want to be able to maintain and the only way to do it is by monetizing it. i’ve been pep talking myself in to giving my all into this project. convincing myself that i need to grab the opportunity to do something that makes me happy. even if it drains my savings. lol.

i’ve been preparing and planning for this for a whole month now and i realized a lot of things:

it wasn’t laziness, it was fear.

i used to think that i couldn’t start anything because i was too lazy to do it. too lazy to make my hands dirty, too lazy to get up from bed and work on something. only recently that i realized (or accepted) that i wasn’t lazy, i was scared. scared to make mistakes, scared to waste time and money, scared to embarrass myself, and the biggest fear i have, i was scared to fail. i wasn’t avoiding work. i was avoiding the emotional whiplash of turning an idea into a real, imperfect object. planning kept me in a version of myself that could do the thing. something that starting may or may not prove.

you’re bound to be clumsy.

when you’re a beginner, you are bound to be clumsy. you are bound to make mistakes (a fuck ton of them) because you had no prior experience. but hey, making mistakes is literally the best way to learn. as cliche as it sounds, experience really is the best teacher, no matter what the subject is.

you will always be the number one critic of yourself.

for some reason, whenever i have business ideas, i always spiral down into comparison. i check the market, the niche, the competitors, and compare myself to them. in my eyes, they are great at what they do and the technicalities that come with owning a business (marketing and shit). and then i would start the never ending negative self talk. i tell myself that i’m being too arrogant to even think about entering the market when i know nothing about it. i’m not good enough for it! there are a lot of people better than me! so why waste your time and effort in trying when you can just give up before you even start? i criticize myself, my work, my skills, my mindset, and basically everything about me. and that’s not how it’s supposed to be. when you’re starting a project, all you really have is yourself and you criticizing yourself for things that are inevitable will only drag you down.

readiness is not something you earn in advance

“i’m just preparing for it. i want to be ready to or for when i start it.” is a line i often tell myself. i keep waiting for the perfect time, to feel “ready”. i keep myself in the waiting room even if i know that the idea of a “perfect time” or “ready to start” is just a myth. i know to myself that no amount of planning or researching can prepare you for the actual thing and that all there is to do is to try it yourself. start it, make mistakes, trial and error, risk losing something to learn better things. experiment! explore! whatever other words close to it just fucking do it!

being ready doesn’t come before starting, it comes after. readiness is a byproduct of contact, it is the result of starting and trying and failing and learning. you can spend hours thinking, outlining, optimizing, and walk away feeling productive, intelligent, and responsible. nothing has been exposed yet so nothing can fail yet. the idea remains perfect because it remains untouched. planning is basically a closed space, an echo chamber of things you learned through research. but the real progress can only be seen and felt after you start, when you’ve had enough experience to gather feedback and lessons and information that you cannot access from the planning phase no matter how thorough you are.

repetition gives you progress.

you are gonna do badly at first. like everyone else. you’re a beginner, you do not know how to be good at it because you haven’t spent enough time trying to learn the ropes. starting something closes the safe distance that planning provides. when you start and you keep on trying, repeating the same process or formula until you get it right, that’s when you can say that there’s progress. you don’t wake up one day and you’re magically good at doing something. it’s repetition, practice, that will give you good results.

starting is always, always, the hardest part. the anxiety, doubts, fears, and confusion that comes during the waiting time between planning and starting feels like hell. it stops you from starting, discourages you from trying. so when you feel the small spark of curiosity to try something new, don’t overthink it. just do it. start somewhere! do it scared!

it’s a cary world out here but you owe it to yourself to try. to start. to begin. do not let anything, especially yourself, hold you back from doing what you want to do.

after all, whether you do it or not, you’d still regret it anyways (so why not give it a shot and hope that it works out?)