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“There are two reasons why we don’t trust people. First - we don’t know them. Second - we know them.”

— Unknown

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“Pay attention to the things you are naturally drawn to. They are often connected to your path, passion, and purpose in life. Have the courage to follow them.”

— Ruben Chavez

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So like, we didn’t block each other naman, but you know the drill—I made my Facebook profile public kasi like, wala lang, para aesthetic. Tapos ayun, I still see him lurking on my TikTok account like some low-key FBI agent, but ako? Charot, hindi ko na chinecheck yung sa kanya. Pero alam mo yung feeling na kahit hindi ka na curious daw, may konting itch pa rin? Like, Idk what’s happening in his life anymore—how his day started and ended, if nag-good morning ba siya sa sarili niya sa salamin or nag-pretend lang na okay, kung anong oras siya nag-leave ng gym like some main character moment, or kung na-feel ba niya na parang Chicken McDo meal is his version of therapy after a long day. Tapos iniisip ko pa, how he self-regulates pag overthinking and anxiety start knocking like may J&T delivery sa utak niya—“Sir, parcel po. Gusto niyo ng breakdown today?” Or kung nakikipag-breakfast pa rin siya with his mom or grandma, kasi honestly those are the softest parts of him I wish I could still witness. And like, is he still trying to fix his life, or baka naman he finally figured out na life is unfixable and you just put stickers over the cracks para cute pa rin sa feed? Idk if he ever pursued that engineering program na he couldn’t stop talking about, like, is he building bridges now? Or still burning them, char?

And the thing is, I keep telling myself na I don’t care anymore. As in legit, wala na, I probably don’t. Pero alam mo yun, sometimes curiosity feels like that one last toxic situationship—akala mo tapos ka na, pero one notification lang and you’re like, “Wait lang, bakit nag-active siya? Sino kausap?” Pero at the end of the day, wala rin. Kasi right now, all I can see is that stupid little green dot on his profile. That tiny dot, glowing like a traffic light that tells me he’s still alive somewhere, scrolling, maybe laughing, maybe crying, maybe both. And me? Nandito lang, watching nothing and everything at the same time. End.

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“Stop asking me to trust you while I’m still coughing water up from the last time you let me drown.”

— Unknown

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You know what’s wild? When someone says “it wasn’t that deep” like, okay Miss Universe, thank you for your groundbreaking thesis. Apparently, ikaw pala ang appointed official measurer ng lalim ng sugat sa puso ko. Like, congrats babe, certified scuba diver ka pala ng feelings ko. Kasi sure, sa’yo, it’s just words. Just “small lang naman.” Pero sa’kin? Girl, that was basically an earthquake magnitude 9.9 sa fault line ng trust ko. Alam mo, nakakatuwa kasi sa utak nila, it’s really “not that deep.” Parang, hello, hindi ako nag-panic attack sa SM grocery dahil nakakita ako ng brand ng kape na iniinom mo, tapos sasabihin mo sakin na “words lang naman.” Like girl, kung “words lang,” eh bakit hanggang ngayon, every time I hear a certain tone, parang gusto kong mag-quit ng buong buhay ko? Hindi siya “words lang.” Words are literally the reason why may constitution, may break-up letter, may text na “sorry, can’t make it” after ko magbihis ng full OOTD at mag-book ng Grab worth P300. Words cut deeper than a Watsons eyebrow razor, promise.

And my favorite part? Yung expectation nila na makakalimutan ko siya. Cute. Like, ang kapal ng mukha to assume na I’ll just wake up one day na parang, “hehe, all good na, let’s pretend that never happened.” Excuse me, my memory is basically a museum. Lahat naka-archive. May curator, may catalog, may guided tour pa with matching audio headset. If I can still remember the exact outfit I wore nung iniwan ako ng jeep sa gitna ng EDSA dahil puno na, what makes you think I’ll forget the day you cracked my trust like a cheap phone screen protector? Spoiler alert: I won’t. Tapos eto pa, sila pa yung nagtataka why I’m acting different now. Like, “hala, why are you so cold?” Uhm, maybe kasi my entire perception of you did a 180 turn, bestie. Before, when I saw you, it felt like Spotify Premium — no ads, smooth, chill vibes. Ngayon? You’re basically YouTube na may 3 unskippable ads at paulit-ulit na “Subukan mo ang ShopeePay.” It’s giving stress. It’s giving, “why did I even click play?”

But syempre, they’ll never get it. Ever. Kasi sa kanila, hindi siya ganun kalalim. And maybe that’s the real tragedy: na habang ako, nagrerecover pa from emotional open heart surgery, sila naman, chill lang, nag-Netflix marathon. Parang, wow, must be nice to be that oblivious. Must be nice to live in a world kung saan hindi mo ramdam yung mga sugat na iniwan mo sa ibang tao. Like, teach me your ways kasi parang convenient ‘yon, ha.

So yeah, maybe to you it wasn’t that deep. Maybe to you it was just a little mistake, parang nagkamali lang ng order sa McDo. Pero sa’kin, it was the day I stopped looking at you the same way. The day na kahit i-crack ko pa lahat ng jokes, deep down alam kong hindi na mababalik yung dati. The day na kahit sinasabi ko sa sarili ko na “move on na, sis,” may tiny voice sa loob ko na nagsasabi: Nope, hindi mo deserve makalimutan ito. Kasi totoo, nasaktan ka. And the funniest, saddest, and most ironic part? You’ll never understand. And you’ll never even try. Because to you, it wasn’t that deep. But to me? It was the day I realized: oh shoot, not all heartbreaks come from breakups. Minsan galing lang siya sa “small argument” na hindi small at all. Minsan galing lang siya sa taong never akalaing kaya kang sirain nang ganito ka quietly. So yeah, call me dramatic, call me OA. Pero guess what? At least ako, I own my depth. Kasi ikaw? Ikaw yung nalunod ako, pero ikaw yung nagsabing mababaw lang yung tubig.

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“A man who yearn is a man who earns.” Like, grabe, parang ang deep niya, pero also parang gaslight siya ng universe. Kasi, hello, when you yearn, you’re not exactly earning… unless may value pala yung eyebags ko na puwede nang gawing hand-carry sa CEBU Pacific.

Think about it: You yearn for love? Girl, congrats. You earned: advanced-level trust issues, three playlists of sad songs na parang ikaw yung bida sa own teleserye mo, and the suspicious ability to decode “typing…” as a full novel. You yearn for peace? Wow. You earned: insomnia, random 3 AM monologues about the meaning of life, and yung feeling na parang nagta-take ka ng exam na wala namang instructions. You yearn for success? HAHAHA. Okay, you earned: scoliosis, 10,000 steps sa loob ng office lang, and yung magical power to smile at your boss while mentally resigning.

You yearn for clarity in life? Boom. You earned confusion, plus 30 minutes sa banyo staring at tiles like they’ll give you an answer. Spoiler alert: hindi. Parang yearning is just emotional Lazada sale. You see all these flashy hopes and dreams in your cart, tapos pag check-out, ang lalabas: “Out of Stock. Try again never.” Ang bonus pa, may voucher ka for FREE DISAPPOINTMENT with minimum spend of sanity. And like, ang nakakainis, kahit alam mong ganon, you still yearn. Kasi what else will you do, sis? Hindi ka mag-ye-yearn? That’s like going through life naka-Airplane Mode. Sure, safe siya, walang turbulence, pero ang boring. Kasi kahit nakakamatay minsan, wanting something gives you life. Even if that “life” comes with eye twitch and migraines. Tapos people always say, “At least you’re growing.” Uhm, sorry, but growth is overrated. Hindi siya flower bloom moment — more like pimples sprouting before a date. Growth is less glow-up, more blow-up, as in blown-up bills and blown-up anxiety.

Sometimes, gusto ko na lang ng Do Not Yearn button. Like, imagine mo: naka-Starbucks ka, tahimik lang, no intrusive thoughts. Hindi yung habang nagkaka-caramel macchiato ka, bigla kang tatamaan ng “What if I peaked in high school?” Sis, I just wanted caffeine, not an existential slap in the face. Pero ayun nga. The scam is real. Kasi the more you yearn, the more you earn — not in cash, not in clout, but in character development. As in, trauma. As in, may PhD ka na sa pretending na okay ka lang while dying inside. As in, kaya mo nang tumawa sa jokes na hindi mo narinig kasi busy ka overthinking. And the heaviest part? The earn doesn’t stop. Kasi kahit na-reach mo na yung gusto mo, may bagong yearning ulit. Parang DLC ng isang game na hindi mo naman binili pero napilitan ka i-download. You wanted love? Boom, now you yearn for assurance. You wanted success? Congrats, now you yearn for meaning. You wanted peace? Okay, now you yearn for… something else kasi apparently we can’t have nice things. And maybe that’s the joke of life. You yearn, you earn. And no, hindi siya Birkin. Hindi siya stocks. Hindi siya condo. It’s trauma, memories, konting wisdom, and playlists na bagay sa staring-out-the-window-while-it’s-raining moments.

So cheers sa lahat ng nag-ye-yearn out there. May our earnings be more than just dark circles and therapy bills. May we earn konting peace, konting humor, and maybe — just maybe — fries that stay crispy kahit hawak mo lang sya for more than an hour habang tulala ka.

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Sa tingin ko, habambuhay nang ako yung kalmado, mapagpasensya, maunawain, tagapakinig, at taga-pag-ayos ng kung anumang di pagkakaunawaan sa bahay. Peace-maker kuno.

Hindi iisang beses nabanggit ng kapatid ko na sa akin lang raw nakikinig ang mga magulang namin. Pero come to think of it, dahil siguro yun sa kung paano ako sa bahay. Hindi nila ako narinigan ng sigaw o pagdadabog. Kahit kailan, hindi ako naging mataray sa kanila kahit wala ako sa mood minsan. Ang reklamo lang nila sa akin madalas ay yung hindi ko pagsama sa mga gatherings kaya hindi ko kilala kahit yung malalapit na namin na kamag-anak. Tipong need nila makiusap sakin para sumama ako, madalas pa ay ayoko talaga.

I am never the sweet daughter pero I am always the calm one. Sa kapatid ko lang ata ako sumisigaw. Kapag magkaaway lang kami nun, saka nila maririnig yung kung paano ako magalit eh. Pero that was waaaay long ago. College pa ako nung huling away namin na sumigaw ako. Sa work lang ako nasigaw ngayon e.

Pero yung personality ko sa work, sa tingin ko naman eh I am genuinely that way rin. Depende siguro sa paligid. Depende if merong shared interests. May mapapag-usapan na interesado rin ako. Malaking factor yun siguro. Sa bahay kasi, ako lang naman yung into arts growing up. Tapos karamihan ng kasabayan ko lumaki, lalaki. I didn't get to enjoy things that much kasi wala naman akong kalaro tapos hindi ko rin naman feel kalaro ang kapatid ko—due to differences nga siguro.

Dun sa nature ko na tahimik at kalmado, dun siguro nakita ng parents ko na need nila pakinggan ang opinyon ko once I made one. Kung iisipin ko, tama naman kapatid ko, nakikinig nga parents namin sa akin.

Pero it doesn't mean na I am a great person para pakinggan nila. Although, I think that I am a good daughter kahit papano. And I also have this trait na sobrang optimistic at talagang naniniwala sa kabutihan sa kahit na anong bagay, pangyayari or personalidad.

My parents must know na I think that way most of the times kaya they somehow trust my judgements and my opinions.

I'm sleepy..

I want to go back to Sydney.

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Another rainy day by モモ

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Diary Entry No. 847 (a.k.a. the day I accepted na mabait pa rin ako kahit kontrabida vibes na ako):

You know, sometimes I scare myself. Like legit, I could be the villain in somebody else’s life story — pero kahit ganon, may manners pa rin ako. Kasi kahit at my most evil state, I am still considerate. For example, kung magde-disappear ako sa buhay mo, hindi ako yung basta na lang mawawala. Nope. I will leave you a vague Spotify playlist para may clues ka kung bakit. Considerate ako. I want you to cry, pero at least may background music. “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” followed by “Kill Bill.” You’re welcome. Or kung iiwan kita sa read, sisiguraduhin ko na nag-blue tick muna bago ako mag-offline. Kasi ang pangit naman kung hindi mo alam na binasa ko ‘yung wall of text mo. I want you to feel ignored with confirmation. See? Evil pero organized.

Tapos kung ever maging kontrabida ako sa friendship or sa love life mo, hindi ako yung tipong mang-iinsulto ng walang effort. Hindi. Magbibigay ako ng constructive criticism, pero savage. Like, “Honestly, I hate you, but you did look cute nung last Tuesday. Sayang, wasted potential.” Kasi kahit evil ako, I still wanna give you that tiny boost of self-esteem before I crush your soul. Kasi at the end of the day, kahit ang dami kong grudges, hindi ko kayang maging totally heartless. Hindi ko kaya yung walang artistry yung evilness ko. Gusto ko may finesse, may drama, may pa-plot twist. Kung saktan kita, dapat cinematic. Hindi basta barubal. And let’s be real — maybe the reason I’m so considerate even in my most evil state is kasi… deep inside, I still want to be liked. Like oo, kontrabida vibes, pero dapat relatable villain na ang audience will say, “Grabe siya pero same, I get it.” Ayoko yung tipong everyone hates me. That’s so… lazy.

So yeah. Even when I’m my worst self, I still wanna leave people comfortable enough to say, “Yeah she ruined me, pero at least may aircon.” Kasi kung ipapadala kita sa impyerno, I’ll make sure may WiFi at unlimited iced coffee doon. I mean, hello? Hindi ako barbaric. Minsan nga feeling ko, being considerate while being evil is my toxic trait. Like I want you to feel the pain, pero I’ll also give you a blanket. Kasi at the end of the day, kahit villain ako, I still want you to sleep well — para bukas, gising ka ulit, and you can suffer all over again.

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You know what’s funny? Like, not ha-ha funny but “oh my God, I think I’m spiraling but in HD” funny? People always talk about courage as if it’s this cute little accessory you just wear, like a pearl clip from Shopee. Parang, “ay girl, just be brave” — as if bravery is available sa Lazada with same-day delivery. Pero hello, it’s easy to preach about courage when you’re not the one standing in front of a battlefield, or in my case, standing in front of my buhay na parang nagiging low-budget indie film. Like bro, kaya mong sabihin na “just face your fears” kasi hindi ikaw yung nakaupo sa first row ng concert ni Taylor Swift na may ticket na galing sa utang. Or kaya mong magbigay ng TED Talk about resilience kasi hindi ikaw yung may thesis defense tomorrow na wala pang PowerPoint — tapos, plot twist, wala ka ring thesis. Parang, congrats sa bravery mo, pero sana all. Ang dali kasi to romanticize courage when the closest thing to your battlefield is choosing kung large fries ba or small fries na lang kasi broke ka na. Like, wow, super brave mo, girl, nag-order ka ng venti kahit alam mong ubos na savings mo. But let’s not lie — sometimes yung “battlefield” natin hindi naman bullets and bombs. Minsan, it’s replying to an email you’ve been ghosting for three weeks. Minsan, it’s standing up after 8 hours of lying down staring sa ceiling, asking the very important question: “Is this crack sa ceiling or a sign from the universe that I should just give up?”

Courage, daw, is universal. Pero ang hirap when you’re in the trenches of your own head. Like, how do you fight a war when the general is… you? And you’re also the enemy. And you’re also the medic. Tapos, yung supplies mo? Kape lang at dalawang biscuits na expired since June. Girl, sino bang makakaligtas diyan? Kaya minsan, when people say “just be strong,” gusto ko sagutin ng, “Sure, bestie, do you want me to bench press my trauma or deadlift my emotional baggage?” Like, sige, let’s go. Let’s put my anxiety on a barbell. PR attempt tonight. Pero the gag is… maybe courage is not about going sa battlefield looking like some Marvel superhero with abs na parang sculpted ng angels. Maybe it’s just dragging your sorry self out of bed kahit wala ka nang energy. Maybe it’s answering, “Okay po,” sa family GC kahit gusto mong mag-reply ng, “Guys, I am actually crumbling.” Or maybe courage is admitting na hindi ka okay, pero magpapakita ka pa rin kasi life goes on kahit ayaw mo na.

And you know what’s the plot twist? Sometimes, the bravest thing is admitting na hindi mo alam anong ginagawa mo. Kasi who the heck does, right? Wala namang crash course on “How to Survive Life Without Crying in the Comfort Room ng Starbucks.” If meron, I would’ve enrolled already. So yeah, it’s easy to talk about courage when you’re far from the battlefield. Pero when you’re in it? Girl, that’s not courage anymore — that’s improv. As in, wala kang script, wala kang rehearsals, pero showtime na. And kahit pangit yung performance mo, clap clap pa rin kasi at least, you showed up. So to everyone out there pretending to be brave while lowkey googling “how to fake your own death but still access GCash” — congrats. You’re not just surviving, you’re performing a full-on Broadway play na walang rehearsal. And honestly? That’s iconic.

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I always say na I’m not afraid of being forgotten. Like, go lang, erase me, ctrl+alt+del. Delete me from your memory drive, archive me in the iCloud of your brain, tapos never restore. I don’t mind. Honestly, that sounds peaceful. Ang kinakatakot ko lang talaga? Yung maalala ako — but not as who I am now, but as someone I no longer am. Like, imagine mo, someone randomly thinks of me years later and goes, “Uy, si Marie? Yung girl na lagi nagcocry sa tricycle kasi may nakitang couples sa 7-Eleven holding hands habang bumibili ng Slurpee?” First of all, rude. Second of all, accurate. Pero third of all, not me anymore. (Okay fine, minsan pa rin, pero character development na yun, okay?). It’s funny, kasi I tried so hard to evolve. I’ve rebranded myself more times than a café in Poblacion. Yung dati kong “sad girl who listens to Arctic Monkeys kasi feeling niya unique siya” era? Retired na. Yung “nagpo-post ng vague tweets na clearly about one person pero kunyari ‘general thoughts’ lang”? Tapos na. Yung “playlist ko is 90% Taylor Swift, 10% The 1975”? Okay fine, nandyan pa rin. Pero may Laufey na ngayon, kaya growth yun.

Pero the universe has the audacity to let people remember me in my beta version. Parang… hello, nag-update na ako to iOS 17. Bakit nasa isip niyo pa rin ako as iOS 10 na lagi nagla-lag? Honestly, I don’t want to be remembered as that girl na nagdadrama sa Starbucks dahil hindi siya tinext back. Or the one na laging nagsasabing “it’s fine” pero may 34 unsent drafts sa Notes app. Or yung nagpanggap na plantita kasi uso, pero lahat ng halaman niya namatay kasi nalimutan niyang diligan (legit may namatay akong cactus, like how??). Kung maalala niyo man ako, sana naman yung version na medyo upgraded na. Like, “Uy, Marie — still dramatic, but now with better skincare and healthier coping mechanisms. May konting trauma pa rin pero at least well-dressed.”

Pero kung hindi niyo kaya, wag na lang. Forget me completely. Kasi kung version ko five years ago yung maalala niyo, parang nanonood kayo ng luma kong TikTok na cringe. Hindi ko na kaya i-endure yung secondhand embarrassment. Parang I want to tap myself on the shoulder and say, “Girl, stop. Please. Hindi ka deep, nagka-caffeine high ka lang.” Sometimes I wonder — what if people remember me the way I remember my old self? With equal parts love, hate, and “ano ba ‘tong pinaggagawa ko?” vibes. Kasi truth is, minsan ako rin, natatawa ako sa sarili ko. Like, who cries over a song na hindi naman talaga sad, pero kasi may lyric na nagmatch sa outfit ng ex ko nung last date namin? Me. Ako yun. Ako yung may PhD sa making everything about my personal heartbreak arc.

So yeah, I’m not afraid of being forgotten. In fact, please forget me — lalo na yung version ko na may bangs kasi akala niya makakatulong yun sa healing journey. Or yung version ko na sumali sa Zumba class ONCE kasi sabi nila daw “endorphins make you happy.” Girl, I was miserable. If you really must remember me, remember the one who finally figured out na hindi lahat ng bagay dapat gawing metaphor. Na minsan, iced coffee is just iced coffee — hindi “a symbol of the love that grew cold.” (Pero like, minsan metaphor pa rin… old habits die hard.). And if you can’t update the version of me in your head, then please… uninstall. Save us both the storage space. Kasi babe, trust me — the girl you’re remembering? She’s already a ghost. And honestly? I’ve been haunted enough.

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What if one day I just… stopped functioning? Like full-on human shutdown, parang yung laptop na nagdidilim na lang yung screen kahit 100% battery. Would you see me as a burden? Or would you just be like, “Okay, here we go again, drama ng taong privileged edition.” Kasi tbh, hindi naman ako yung panganay na may dalang world-class stress levels. Hindi ako yung tipong may backstory na pang-MMK, yung tipong nagtinda ng fishballs habang nag-aaral tapos naging engineer sa huli. Hindi, bes. Ako yung sibling na parang B-roll footage lang. Cute cutaway shots, konting comedic relief, tapos wala na. My parents basically gave me the “soft life package.” As in supported sa hobbies, may freedom to explore, walang pressure magtaguyod ng clan. Ang trabaho ko lang is… literally to exist and not ruin the family group pictures. And I’m thankful, swear. Pero minsan, ang hirap maging thankful kasi naiisip ko — bakit parang may kulang pa rin? Like, hello brain, bakit ka nagka-error message, hindi ka naman dapat nagka-virus? It’s giving “may bagong iPhone ka na nga, bakit umiiyak ka pa rin?” vibes. What if one day, bigla akong hindi mag-function? Not because of any legit tragedy, but because my mental health just… hit snooze forever. As in nagising ako, pero yung soul ko parang, “No thanks, skip na tayo today.” Ang ironic kasi — ako pa yung walang reason not to function, tapos ako yung nag-glitch. Ang galing, no? Plot twist worthy of a teleserye nobody asked for. Tapos naiisip ko — paano kaya ako makikita ng tao? (Kahit na wala naman akong pake talaga sa kanila most days)

Option A: “Aww, poor thing, baka burnout lang. Let’s help her rebuild.”

Option B: “Wait lang, anong burnout? Hindi ka nga nag-load ng kahirapan sa buhay mo eh.”

Option C: “Girl, ikaw na nga yung hindi nahirapan sa buhay, ikaw pa yung unang bumigay. Sana all.”

Honestly, baka sagot ko rin Option C. Kasi let’s face it — minsan feeling ko ako yung construction project na may complete budget, high-quality materials, at architect on standby… pero nung tinest for earthquakes, ayun, nagka-hairline crack sa unang lindol ng 3.2 magnitude. Like, hindi man lang Category 5 storm, girl. Ambaba ng tolerance levels ko. Nakakatawa, diba? Ako yung literal na definition ng “You had one job: to function.” Tapos bigla akong magfe-fail sa exam na ako lang yung hindi nag-aral for. So ayun. That’s my intrusive thought lately. If I stopped functioning — would you try to fix me like a DIY project with YouTube tutorials, or would you just label me as “defective unit” and move on to the next shiny thing? Kasi ang scary isipin na baka sa dulo, yung biggest flaw ko is not that I wasn’t enough… but that I was already given enough, tapos nasira pa rin ako.