𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼

Two weeks after I officially moved in to my coastal apartment, I felt bored. Bored in a sense that my life is hauntingly quiet and peaceful. I  have always prayed for this life. I begged God to give me peace and when peace came --- I didn't know how to react. I am grateful for it and I thank God for giving me peace, actually. I've resolved to find the beauty in the mundane. Yesterday, Pat and I agreed to go for a walk to the spot he recommended the day I moved in. But the plan changed and we decided to take a dip in the sea near my apartment. We talked, looked for shells (I am now collecting shells and is planning to illustrate it) , and watched the sun set. The waves were forgiving enough to console us in our woes and disappointments for this year. I’ve also started my 2026 curriculum. I curated what media to consume, what books to read, and who to be friends with. I don't have the energy and time for unnecessary silent competitions between my friends and I certainly don...

I’ve been out shell collecting almost every morning since moving near the sea. There’s something meditative about it: walking along the shoreline, listening to the waves, letting my eyes catch the small glimmers of shape and color scattered in the sand. One morning, I found a tiny shell that felt too cute to leave behind. I placed it inside my case, together with the shells I’ve collected over the past few days, thinking it was just another addition to my collection. Later that day, I discovered I wasn’t the only one who thought the shell was worth keeping—a hermit crab had been living inside it. I let the shell go after telling Pat about it, not expecting anything. It felt like the right thing to do: to return a home to its rightful owner—the crab, and nature itself. But when I came back from dinner, I found the crab had returned, leaving the shell behind for me. As if the sea had instructed it to share a little joy and beauty to me.  Hermit crabs don’t make their own shells; they...

Lately, I’ve been noticing how some people seem to treat my growth and creativity like a competition — and it has been an exhausting feeling. I don’t wake up trying to outdo anyone. I just want to enjoy what I love, keep learning, and grow at my own pace. But instead of support, I sometimes hear dismissive comments or notice people mirroring what I do, almost as if something needs to be proven. It shows up in small, subtle ways. I share something that helps me reflect or process life, and soon it becomes a shared interest. I casually mention wanting something, and before long, someone else already has it. Even parts of my blog have been copied elsewhere. Of course, anyone is free to explore the same things — but sometimes the energy behind it feels less like inspiration and more like comparison. At first, it bothered me. It felt like my every move was being watched, copied, or quietly dismissed. But the more I sat with that feeling, the more I understood something important: their reac...

Is turning 27 considered part of the late twenties club? If so, then I suppose it’s time to welcome myself with the fact that I am indeed maturing and growing wiser. Over the past decade, I’ve collected both good and bad habits—some worth keeping, others worth unlearning as I prepare for my thirties. And because habits take time to reshape, I want to start early, so that the future version of me can live with more ease and intention. 1. Perfectionism Perfectionism is a double-edged sword, and I’ve been bleeding from it for years. It pushes me to excel, but it also drains me when nothing ever feels “good enough.” I remember being 13, idealistic and obsessive about every detail. Back then, it felt like discipline; now, I see how it robs me of joy and spontaneity. I’m learning that progress matters more than perfection, and that “done” is often better than “flawless.” 2. Procrastination Procrastination has been my silent companion—sometimes disguised as “ waiting for the right moment.” ...

I’ve been a homebody since I finished my final trimester last December 2025, and it looks like I’ll stay that way until graduation. There’s this superstition we hold, that anyone who hasn’t yet walked the graduation stage risks dying before they do. So here I am, tucked away in my new apartment with my little companion, Munchkin (my cat, my child), sipping warm chocolate milk in my pajamas.  Ah, finally! This quiet feels like a small luxury. Just two days ago, I moved out of my boarding house in Uptown, the place I called home for four years. Leaving it behind feels both liberating and strange, like closing a chapter I had long grown used to. Now, I’m learning to settle into this new space, this new chapter with new routines. There’s something comforting about realizing that no matter your age, you can always begin again. I have so many plans for this apartment. I want to make it a sanctuary. Cozy corners, soft lights, little rituals that make the days feel gentle.  Maybe I’ll...

Life doesn’t measure us by how many times we fall—it measures us by how many times we rise. The Japanese proverb Nana korobi, ya oki means, “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.” It speaks of resilience—of never giving up hope and always striving for more. I never truly understood its meaning until life happened to me. Back in high school, we were asked to memorize poems, prose, and proverbs, but I never took them to heart. I wasn’t insensitive, just immature. I thought being academically smart was enough to survive. But life proved me wrong. It slapped me with truths I wasn’t prepared for. I’ve learned that survival requires more than intellect—it demands a strong heart and mind. Life stretches you, reshapes you, and humbles you until you learn to live with grace. Last year, I fell hard. My expectations were shattered when others sabotaged my attempt at growth. I made enemies, and “friends” shed their masks—revealing snake skins and striking when I was most vulnerable. They painte...