Anonymous

      Mabuhay — the way it was said yesterday felt like the first note of a song you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear. The morning started like any other, with the quiet hum of the place outside my window, the kind of stillness that almost tricks you into thinking nothing important will happen, but yesterday wasn’t an ordinary day, not even close, because somewhere between the ordinary moments of brushing hair out of tired eyes and sips of lukewarm water, life decided to remind me that miracles don’t always come wrapped in fireworks or fanfare — sometimes they arrive in a soft, insistent way, like a whisper you can’t ignore.       And yet, even amidst all that anticipation, a line lingered in the air —  “Life is touching different shores yet belonging to none.” (Ate Mhiks, 2025)  — and I couldn’t help but think of you. All the effort, all the struggle, all the moments you wondered where you truly belonged, yet here you were, standing i...

     this year felt different. heavier. quieter. maybe this is what they call the birthday blues — that strange, hollow ache that settles inside your chest when the world expects you to be happy. maybe it’s more than that. maybe it’s something that’s been growing quietly inside me for years, patiently waiting for the right moment to rise to the surface. and today, it finally had enough space to breathe. no distractions. no noise to drown it out. just me, and the weight of everything i’ve kept tucked away.      at 4am, while the world slept peacefully, i found myself standing alone in a corridor. the floor was cold beneath my feet, grounding me in a reality i didn’t want to face. the walls were silent, but in that silence, every thought i’ve tried to bury echoed back louder than ever. i whispered a soft “happy birthday” to myself. no candles. no laughter. no warm embraces. just me and the air, the darkness holding my words like a fragile secret. i sang not b...

     Hello. It’s that time of the year again.      The kind that makes you feel a little softer, a little heavier, like your heart is remembering something your mind hasn’t quite caught up with.      I don’t know about you, but for me, this season has a way of bringing back old habits, old faces, old wounds that I thought I’d already grown out of. And sometimes, if I’m not careful, I find myself slipping into the same roles—roles I never signed up for but somehow keep getting cast in.      The friend who is always there when it’s easy to reach out. The comfort when no one else answers. The space-filler. The safe option. The “you’ll do for now.”      But I’ve been thinking: I’m not your convenience. I’m not the number you dial because everyone else is busy. I’m not the person you hold onto when your hands are too empty. I’m not here to be remembered only when remembering is simple.      I’m a p...

        Hi. How are you?       Not in the rushed, polite kind of way people ask out of habit. I mean — how’s your heart lately? Have you been sleeping well? Have you been feeling like yourself lately, or just trying to make it through the days? If no one’s asked, then let me be the one to say it now: I hope you’re okay. And if you’re not, I hope you still know you’re allowed to be held even in the middle of your mess.        This isn’t a letter filled with advice. I don’t have a list of things to fix what you’re going through, and I won’t pretend to understand everything you feel. But I wanted to say this, because it’s something I’ve been learning too: sometimes, the best thing we can do for someone is to simply stay. No grand gestures. No perfect words. Just presence — quiet, constant, and real.      There were days I felt like I was just… there. Like a background character in my own life. Not someone people missed, ...