he was blind, but not in the way most people think. he could see everything—but never me. he knew i loved flowers, yet never plucked one when we walked past. he knew i loved handwritten letters, yet never wrote a single line. he knew i loved sunrises and sunsets, yet never paused to watch the light spill across our skin. he knew my small desires, my silent requests—but he never chose to meet them.

"how do you stir your coffee?” she asked. “the usual,” i said. “just like how everyone does.” between the silence, i wondered why it mattered. i asked her why. “i knew it,” she said. “just like the others, or whatever rhythm the hand finds. but have you ever tried stirring your coffee counterclockwise?” counterclockwise. the word made me pause. “i haven’t,” i replied—enough for her to know that i loved coffee regardless of how it was stirred. 

it’s almost christmas. i was nineteen the last time i remember celebrating it. that was 2023, back when the season still had weight in my hands, when laughter felt warm instead of distant. now, christmas arrives like a visitor i no longer recognize, standing at the door, knocking softly while i pretend to be asleep, practicing the art of not answering.

we were sitting on the sand, the sun melting into the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of gold and rose. she turned toward me, just for a moment, and smiled—a small, quiet smile that made the world feel heavier and lighter at once. her hand brushed against mine, slow and deliberate, and in that touch, memories flooded back—the way it all began, how every detail of her became a part of me.

i’m 21. when i was twelve, i thought this age would already belong to someone else’s hands. we all did. back then, love was a timeline—partner at twenty, engagement at twenty-five, marriage at twenty-eight. it felt certain, almost guaranteed. innocence made it simple. we didn’t know yet how easily life bends plans until they no longer resemble what we imagined.

i always believe:emotions are only distractions. they cloud thought, distort perception, and interfere with the clarity needed to survive. extreme happiness brings excruciating pain. every joy carries its shadow; every attachment demands payment. if you cannot bear the consequence, you must bear the silence instead. this is a truth i learned early:feeling too much is a liability, and neutrality is survival.

i grew up distant. from my family, friends, and people i barely knew. a kind of distant that does not use words, but feeling. growing up, i used to believe that depending meant weakness—and still, to this day, i stand by the same belief. my parents did not teach me the roman alphabet, not even how to write my own name.

i remember the day i begged the heavens to let me see you again. the air trembled with thunder, and the world felt hollow beneath my knees. i was drenched, bruised by my own pleading, whispering your name like prayer, like confession. “please...” i said. “just once. let me see her again.” the sky did not answer. only the echo of my own voice came back—shattered and strange.

the bus ride felt endless, the road lined with memories i tried to forget. my grandparents thought i came to visit, to rest from the city, but the truth is, i came because i’m finally ready. it’s been years since i last set foot in my grandparents town—quiet, unchanged, and cruelly familiar—used to be the one place i swore i’d never return to.

the clock keeps bleeding. i find myself watching the blood drip—one by one. my thoughts began to drift, lost in a vast sea, carried by tides that know no shore. the waves inside me whisper your name—soft and hollow, like a memory begging to be remembered. was it real, or just a hallucination painted by longing? your i love you’s felt like prayers from trembling lips—words that sounded divine, but died before they reached heaven.

saksi ako ko kung paano ka nilisan ng mga dahon—nalagas, natuyo, ngunit nanatili kang nakatindig. at muli silang bumalik, luntian, buhay, at parang paalala: may pag-asa sa bawat pagkawala, may pagbabalik sa bawat pamamaalam. kaya nating yumabong,kahit mag-isa.

ilang ulit ko na ring tinanong ang sarili, bakit may mga alaala na kahit matagal nang nilamon ng panahon ay patuloy pa ring bumabalik? nang humaplos ang malamig na hangin sa gabing binalot ng katahimikan, muli kong nasilayan ang ngiti mong minsang naging tahanan ng aking mga tahimik na gabi.

today is the 20th, saturday. it is already 14:39. 20th of september doesn’t ring a bell, this is just a usual day. however, this day feels odd. something inside me is knocking to be acknowledged, i don’t know what it is. or maybe i am just being delusional? i woke up maybe around 11am? i don’t remember exactly. one thing i am sure of, i woke up feeling blue.

bumuhos ang ulan na sana’y masayang pinagtatampisawan ng mga bata, subalit sa kasakiman ng kontratista, bangungot ang bawat patak ng ulan sa bahang lumulunod sa sigaw ng mga mahihirap. ang pader na dapat depensa laban sa unos ay itinayo sa papel, ang haligi ng tulay na akala’y proteksyon ay gumuho bago pa man maramdaman ng bayan ang kaligtasan. sa bawat patak ng ulan, umaalingawngaw ang tanong: kaninong bulsa ba napadpad ang milyon at bilyong perang inilaan para sa kaginhawaan ng bayan?

september arrived like a stranger at my door, carrying an energy i cannot name. it lingers in the air, pressing against me, pulling the weight out of my limbs until even the simplest things feel too heavy. i don’t know what’s going on in my life lately—everything feels blurred, like i’m standing still while the world rushes past. it’s not sadness exactly, nor is it peace.

perhaps this is where i stop writing directly to you, though not the end of carrying you in my words. i just want to leave this here—honest and unfiltered, as it has always been. do you still remember what happened on august 11? the teasing at the hallway near the entrance gate—miya, jomari, rey, deo, jonaiban, and kevin were there.

visual presentation on instagram

visual presentation on instagram

visual presentation on instagram

visual presentation on instagram

caught in the shyness of your presence, i have always known you since first year—an outline at the corner of a classroom, a quiet figure whose name stitched itself into my memory. i didn’t chase the thought back then, yet it stayed, faint but steady, like a song i could not unhear. your hair, when trimmed short, feels like a pull i can’t resist.

visual presentation on instagram