8 months, post-mortem

This isn’t a hero/anti-hero rant or critical analysis about Ferdinand Marcos’s burial at the Libingan ng mga Bayani.

No, it’s not like that.

This is something…personal. Intimate. A secret that I first published in a password-encrypted blog that I’ve never shared to anybody else before. Not even to my best friend.

This is the voice of my fifteen-year-old self: brittle, depressed, and longing for someone who would never be around anymore. This is what my sadness looked like three years ago. This has the promises I made to myself three years ago. This has my frustrations and fears and regrets, my little resentments and the “What if’s” that I’ve long buried in the past.

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straight for the castle

Here’s a short piece I wrote November last year. I almost didn’t post this because I thought I put something too dark and gory near the end but it turns out it’s still SFW lol. I thought the topic would be suitable for my current feels about the upcoming Captain America: Civil War–ackkkk!!11!!

Beware of guys who wish to be superheroes.

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the enormity of adulthood

Year 18 has just ended, and what a year it had been.

When I turned 18, a lot of people asked me what felt different, but I mostly felt the same after the 4th of March, or even after I had an “official” birthday celebration. It didn’t really feel any different from being 17, from being  young and willful.

As the year passed, I gradually saw what made the 18th year different from the previous one. And I suppose I should be writing about what’s different now that I just turned 19, at the cusp of leaving the emotionally-taxing, spirited teenager years with one last half-baked, semi-adult year. But I realized that I can’t actually write about a life I haven’t lived yet, so I thought this would go better if it were about what it’s like to be 18 and newly-integrated into the “adult” side of the dinner table.

A decade ago, I was just eight years old and turning 18 seemed like the biggest possible highlight in all of my youthfully naive hopes and dreams. It felt like once I crossed the 18th mark, everything about adults would finally make sense and that I would basically know everything. My 8-year-old self would have been disappointed to discover how un-glamorous it was to turn 18. But ten years ago, I was also hoping for all the wrong things. We all realize how painfully (sweetly) gullible we were as kids only when we’ve become jaded adults, and sometimes it’s tempting to wish that we could travel back in time to just give our younger selves a heads up on the terrible things that could or will happen.

Even I am not immune to occasional wishful thinking.

So, I compiled this list of eight things I wanted my eight-year-old self to have known, from my never-the-wiser eighteen-year-old self. I know that as adults, we all have those moments where we wished to take our younger selves aside and tell them, “Girl, you ain’t usin’ that brain of yours for nothing just so you could sabotage your adult life.”

Anyway, here goes my little “cheat sheet”/”advice column” to my sweet little young self. ❤

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A letter to my Hero

Grade 2. I was just a little girl who was friendless in another unfamiliar place. I was seven years old, on my third school since I started school at the age of four and still clueless about the dynamics and importance of making friends. One thing was clear: I didn’t know anyone, didn’t seem like I’ll be introducing myself to anyone soon, and it seems like the year ahead looks like I’ll be on my own.

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A letter to my love

Five days after the whole planet got into the scheduled annual frenzy of spending money on flowers and chocolates, a.k.a Valentine’s Day, I decided to spend my midweek “holiday” in a coffee shop and–surprise, surprise–write. I have a lot of ideas begging to be set free on paper (or on a Word document), but I chose to post something that I’ve randomly jotted down about a month ago because it’s kind of a fitting “Valentine-themed” entry.


We haven’t met yet.

The day I wrote this, I was just
a lonely girl toeing the line between
being a teenager and a budding adult.

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