Some Things Are Meant to Be Missed

an archive of ache — Sun, 23 Aug 2026 03:08:17 GMT

Hindi naman ako nangungulila sa isang tao.
I think I’m longing for something harder to name.
A version of life that no longer exists.
Minsan, nami-miss ko ang mga panahong wala pa akong ganitong karaming iniisip. Yung mga araw na simple lang ang buhay. Gigising, kakain, tatawa, uuwi—without wondering if I was already falling behind.
I miss the person I was before I learned how quickly things could change.
Before I realized that some dreams don't happen just because we worked hard for them.
Before I understood that growing up also means losing things you never thought you would have to lose.
May mga araw na gusto ko lang bumalik.
Hindi para baguhin ang kahit ano.
Gusto ko lang maramdaman ulit kung paano maging ako noong panahong hindi ko pa kailangang intindihin ang lahat.
Maybe that's why old places feel different now.
Why old songs suddenly hurt.
Why certain months carry a sadness we can't explain.
It's not always because something bad happened.
Sometimes, it's simply because we remember who we were when those things still meant something.
And maybe that's the kind of longing no one really talks about.
The longing for a life that has already passed.
The longing for possibilities.
For the person you could have become.
For the dreams you once believed were waiting for you.
For the innocence of not knowing how things would turn out.
For a future you imagined so clearly that you forgot it was only an imagination.
I used to think growing up meant becoming someone new.
Now I think it also means learning how to say goodbye to the people we used to be.
Hindi naman ibig sabihin na ayaw ko na sa kung sino ako ngayon.
I’m just learning that I can be grateful for who I was without needing to become her again.
Maybe that is what acceptance looks like.
Not forcing yourself to stop missing the past.
Not pretending that you don't wonder what could have been.
But looking back and saying,
“Ang ganda pala noon.”
And then quietly adding,
“Pero hindi na ako doon.”
There are things I will probably always miss.
Not because I want them back.
But because they were once mine.
A season.
A dream.
A feeling.
A version of myself.
And maybe some things aren't meant to be recovered.
Maybe they are meant to become memories we carry softly.
Some things are meant to be missed.
Not mourned forever.
Not chased.
Just remembered.
Because sometimes, the most beautiful thing we can do for the past
is let it remain where it was—
while we keep walking toward everything we haven't met yet.

I Leave the Light On

an archive of ache — Mon, 17 Aug 2026 12:39:59 GMT

I Leave the Light On

Hindi ko rin alam kung bakit ako nandito.

Maybe I just wanted a place where I could leave the thoughts I usually keep to myself.

There are nights when everything becomes quiet, and somehow, doon lumalakas ang ingay sa loob ng isip ko.

Mga tanong na walang sagot.
Mga alaala na matagal ko nang gustong kalimutan.
Mga taong wala na sa buhay ko pero minsan, bigla ko pa ring naiisip.
Mga bersyon ng sarili ko na hindi ko na kilala, pero alam kong naging ako rin sila.

Siguro kaya ako nagsusulat.

Not because I have something important to teach.

But because sometimes, writing is the only way I know how to understand what I feel.

Hindi ko gustong maging perfect ang mga words dito. I don't want every story to have a beautiful ending or a lesson at the end.

Gusto ko lang maging honest.

About the days when I feel like I'm falling behind.

About the moments when I question if I'm becoming the person I once imagined.

About growing up and realizing that some things don't end with goodbyes.

Minsan, they simply disappear.

A conversation becomes less frequent.

A person becomes a memory.

A place that once felt like home suddenly feels unfamiliar.

And one day, you realize you've changed too.

Maybe that's the hardest part of growing up—not losing things, but accepting that you can no longer return to who you were when you had them.

Still, there are things I want to keep.

Small things.

The sound of rain when I can't sleep.

A song that reminds me of someone.

The warmth of coffee on a quiet morning.

A message that came at exactly the right time.

The feeling of being understood without having to explain everything.

Maybe life is made of these little things—the ones we almost don't notice while they're happening, but remember years later.

So, if you're reading this, welcome.

I don't know what you'll find here.

Maybe stories.
Maybe questions.
Maybe pieces of ordinary days.

Maybe you'll recognize yourself somewhere between my words.

And maybe that's enough.

I don't know where this will lead.

I don't have a map.

I only know that I want to keep walking, even when I don't know where the road ends.

Kaya iiwan kong bukas ang ilaw.

Not because I'm waiting for someone specific to come home.

But because I want to remind myself that even on the nights when I feel lost, there is still a small part of me that believes I will find my way back.

Maybe not to the person I used to be.

Maybe to someone new.

Someone softer.

Someone wiser.

Someone who finally understands that not every unanswered question needs an answer.

Sometimes, you just have to keep living.

Keep writing.

Keep becoming.

And if you ever find yourself here on a quiet night, wondering if you're the only one who feels this way—

the light is already on.

Stay for a while.