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Life after undergraduate and before graduation

It has been a long time. I almost forget how to do this. Since December of last year, I have let every chance slipped. I always thought, I am just not inspired enough to write anything.

I wanted to rest. Right after I submitted the grades of my students, which was the last requirement of my undergraduate life, I instantly took the chance to enjoy a well-deserved rest.

I was happy. I was contented. I knew I did a great job. I know I killed that practicum.  And finally, it was Christmas. 

But I was also disappointed. I didn’t write a single blog before the year ends because I knew I would have to lie if I save just a single detail about what I was feeling during the time. I got the highest grade in all of my subjects last semester, but I was not nominated as Best Student Teacher. Say everything about how-awards-do-not-define-your-performance, I already know. I have said them to myself. But this matter still crept under all the joy of my success. It didn’t help when I suddenly found myself lost where to go next.

I admit that this was not what I imagined life after practicum would be, but then again, I have always been a fucking idealist. I thought I would instantly have a job even before the graduation in June. I thought I would have it all instantly figured out. Fucking idealist.

Come 2018, I started to feel sad. I don’t know how to tell my parents what I am feeling. I know that now is the time to provide for them, and although they do not impose any pressure on me, nothing could already amount with the pressure I always bestow upon me.

I started to feel afraid, too. Lack of enough and efficient communication with my parents gets me losing my confidence. I want to do so many things, but I could not know enough that they believe in me. There is a reason why Words of Affirmation is the first of my love languages. I always need to hear, or else I’d forever doubt it exists.

I have been losing friends, or so I think. I do not have the constancy of my favorite people’s presence anymore. It feels alone in here. I am learning how to be all right with it every day. I just don’t know up to what cost. I know it will be better, but what do I have to lose? What do I have to learn? What do I have to sacrifice? How long?

It is silly that right after I wrote these questions, my next thought is that, You don’t have to comfort me. You see, the kind of world that adulting imposes on you is one where you should never show moments of weakness. You have to fake it until you make it. I don’t know what kind of brain wirings the Lord had let me develop, but I have never found this easy. I already did a lot of faking-until-I-make-it, and now I am done. There are things that I hope not to do anymore, people that I hope not to meet again, but many would say this is just how the world works; we have to earn every little taste of happiness. 

I am afraid I’d eventually forget how to be soft and kind in a world where many people couldn’t/wouldn’t recognize it as beautiful.

It is extremely difficult to find inspiration. I am having a hard time keeping myself inspired and motivated at this point. It is a miracle that I was able to publish this blog.

Regardless, just today, I already have four part-time jobs on my plate.  I am almost earning what I would earn if I were employed in a school. So much about not being motivated and inspired, right?

I know.

I am an overthinker and I am too, way way too much, hard on myself. It is a cross I’d eventually have to let go, because I know. I really don’t deserve it.  

Everything is going to be better. I just wish I would still love whoever I turn out to be in the end. 

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On my side of the truth, love

Every day I cannot help but think that we become more and more irrelevant. Outdated. Just a story in the past. I know this, and I’ve accepted this. 

I have always wanted to talk to you. I have so many words. Sometimes they are related to how we ended, sometimes I wish I could tell you about ordinary things from my day just like nothing has ever happened, just like when we were friends.

There are times when I do not want to remember anymore, I just want to start anew. But every time I would try and believe again, and think of possible ways to reach out, I cannot help but think I had become irrelevant to you since God-knows-when. You’ve long stopped believing in me and grew tired of what I might possibly say.

Say that all of these are nothing but pathetic assumptions, correct me in your head if you need to, but everybody knows that you have been so good. Very good. In moving on. In showing the world that I am nothing to you. Acting like we had never existed before. I could only react to the actions that you show, and the fact that you never tried to reach out to me can only mean two things: that you are as hella afraid as I am or that I am just not worth it anymore. 

I asked you once, Why are you not the type who initiates first? You told me not to force it, and to just let it happen on its own pace. I know you’re thinking that there’s a right time for everything. I… don’t know. 

I didn’t want to get back together, I don’t. I just wanted to clear the air. I just wanted to speak to you honestly. I want to hear about all the resentment that you keep. I also want you to understand me. I know I said hurtful words to you. I know there were times I overreacted. I’ve judged you in ways more than one. And I wish you could have understood better. I felt that you didn’t acknowledge that I was hurting, expecting us to be okay after everything that happened. I wish you could have helped me by trying a little more. But you shut me off when I shut you off. And it’s fucked up because even if I know that I’m only reacting to your coldness, I know that I became even colder myself. Until everything became irreparable. I was too filled with pride and resentment that I didn’t want to do anything anymore. And I always get the impression of how irrelevant I’ve become to you. 

In all honesty, I badly want to blame you. I feel like you have been a hypocrite in ways more than one. I know that you are blaming me in your own ways as well.

All I wanted was clarity, something that you couldn’t give me because “it is not the right time yet.” I cannot be here anymore, and not being here anymore is giving up that quest for clarity. Do you understand? From here, I will have to grow more and more indifferent towards you, towards everything about us. I will have to just accept your silence, and rest without expecting for any peace. 

There is no right time. But, who am I to tell you that? Who am I for you to trust and believe? I just want to say that I’ve waited for you to be, for once, be braver than you think you are, by facing me and telling me exactly what you feel. With all honesty, with no fear of judgement.

I loved you. And I swear to God I wanted to keep that even if we don’t end up together, even if we find new people to love. But I’m too filled with failed expectations, aching pain, and countless disappointments that I do not know what to do but accept that this is now our fate. 

I’ve never been so weak. I’ve never been so lazy and passive. I’ve never been so sad. And I’d like to believe it’s because I’ve never loved and trusted and risked for someone like I did for you. Maybe there is no cure when you choose that there is nothing to cure. There’s nothing to redeem when you believe nothing is worthy anymore. I have to let it go. 

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On sadness and breaking down

It has been a while since I last posted here. I have a teaching demo to be prepared for, but I think I just needed this. 

The boy I loved once told me out of mild exasperation and with subtle accusation, “Lagi ka na lang nagb-breakdown! (You’re always breaking down!)” to refer to my constant season of overthinking and crying. Hearing my reality in his words, I believed that he meant well, and in fact, he was telling the truth. I was always crying. I would get silent and be lost in my thoughts, and the next  I am typing him long messages consisting my (emotional) qualms. It was difficult to be sad and be in love. I am still sorry for entering the relationship as that. I was hoping I could love out of my sadness, that another person could love me out of my insecurities and fears. I was wrong.

I do believe, however, that no one should make you feel guilty of how you feel. No one should make you feel, either consciously or not, that you are harder to love because of the emotions you experience. I was hoping that the boy I loved understood me better and accepted me more in worse conditions. It was too much of a responsibility, maybe, but love is hard work, isn’t it? Still, I am sorry. I still carry the pain with me today. Whenever I would cry I remember that the person I loved did not love me and left me for it. The reason for breaking down then becomes the very act of breaking down. I need people who won’t take it against me, who are not going to try to fix me with their logic and words, but would patiently wait for me. I need people who can show up and stay. Stay. 


It is hard to live a life at peace when you are in an environment where people tend to fake things. For the past few weeks, I see people both at their best and at their worse. I experience their wonderful and lovable sides and watch from the distance how they pin others down with their whispered voices and malign glances. It was hard to be at peace with yourself when you need to deal with these people. I realized how much I hate hypocrisy because I hate myself for it. If it was hypocrisy that I had said I’m always going to love the boy I loved and went angry at him for not fighting for me in the end, then I have hated myself for it.  


I always hate myself for just waiting for something to happen when I know exactly the things I should do. I hate myself for always praying that I develop a closer relationship with my parents and still doing nothing about it. 

The other day, April 23rd, I came from an organization ceremony that lasted the whole night and day. I got home at 10 a.m on the 24th, and with just an hour of sleep, I had to prepare to attend to my part-time job. I was feeling all the physical and emotional exhaustion from everything that has been happening, and I badly wanted someone to know about it. I was sitting right across my mother in our living room and anxiety was sinking in. I wanted to open up to her but I was afraid of not receiving the reaction I needed. Tears started to draw out, and after some time, I just called, “Ma..”

She looked at me, and was baffled that I was crying. Her voice started to rise another pitch higher, which I know she does when she is worried but still gets my heart skipping a beat, as she asked, “Hindi mo na kaya? (You can’t take it anymore?)” There was relief in me as more tears showed up, and my mother said, “Magsabi ka (Tell me)”.  

It was enough that I cried in front of her, and told her my worries and fears. My speech was nowhere perfect, but I knew she understood me. Before I leave for work, she kissed and embraced me, told me to ask my boss for a leave until I finish the semester. I was still crying on my way to work, partially because I am still stuck in this bubble of loneliness and tighter heart contractions, but mainly because I was relieved with that encounter with my mother. It was a small step, but it meant a lot to me. It adds to the many things that keep me going today. 

To you, you probably saw me or heard about me breaking down these past few days and decided to read this, thank you. Even if not, I still appreciate you being here and sticking through this narrative. I pray you would be brave, true, and kind. 


Thank you to my best friend, von medeza, for the wonderful, original photos, and all the love. 

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Caught up with catching up

How are you? I hope you’re doing well, and if you’re reading this you somehow got here in my blog, so thank you. Your presence means something to me. I always think about you. What could you be doing, searching, thinking that you decided to click the link to this post. I believe that we are all connected. And in sharing my thoughts here I hope you somehow find your own piece or at least lead you to finding it. As for me it gets better and worse at the same time. It’s taking a lot of me to sit and process my thoughts and my emotions nowadays. It takes a lot of courage to check on wounds and see how they are. Earlier I was about to write a new piece and I started crying with all the words I wanted to say. It takes a lot of trust to allow myself to be vulnerable and to cry. No one’s here to calm me down, to dry my tears up, and so I got to trust myself that she gets me. That she’s not going to judge me for breaking down for some same old reasons. She got me, and it will be okay. We will both be okay. In between academic work and catching up with sleep this holy week, I hope to keep my blog updated. Have a safe one. 

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#6 Breaking

When I say my heart

is breaking, can you tell

it’s an understatement?

For break means a lot

to me; it is what I do

every time I try to

speak, but never did I

talk with you.

Breaking

is when I smile, and you

smile, but as strangers

do, never did we

smile to one another

when I would’ve wanted to,

I really do. Fear.

Break is taking time to

wake me up. Shake

me from the pain, make

it all go away ’cause

broken, I was. I am, 

whenever I

remember you and

how happy you are

with her, looking at her,

saying you’ll never let her

break.  Break.

My heart is…