𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼

I met the younger me for coffee at ten. She was late, nervous, and shy — I was early, waiting, almost excited to see her. My hair was loose, waves doing their own thing.  She had hers pulled tight in a bun, wishing it were straight, like the other girls. I ordered matcha. She stuck with plain coffee.  She smiled, awkward and small.  I reached across the table, held her hands, and told her, " We’re okay." She doesn’t need to carry the story of how much she gave up just to keep going. I told her instead about the adventures, the way she lived so many lives. She doesn’t need to know the heartbreaks that carved out space for joy.  And of how he found herself along the process.  I walked her back to our old house in Iligan,  the one that still smells like childhood and innocence.  We won’t meet again for another ten years. But every day, she’ll think of the woman who stayed resilient,  who let herself cry, and honored her scars.  -E. (Posted on In...

Ten years ago, she was fifteen, a girl still pure in her belief that love was a promise, that devotion meant safety. Instead, betrayal became her teacher, repeated until it felt like routine. She gave away her innocence, thinking it was an offering of trust. She believed in soul connection until he drained the life from her. She was told she wasn’t enough, gaslit until her laughter dissolved into anxiety. She carried life once, only to cradle grief. Accused of sins she never committed, her soul was tainted, branded with names that were never hers. She offered shelter when he had none; his survival was stitched together from her sacrifice. Yet the man she trusted disgraced her, parading his betrayal as if it were a prize. He plucked her wings, tore her heart and spirit, and erased her from his story. She sat alone with sadness, anger, hatred, and grief. She faced her demons and, in time, learned grace. She forgave herself for not fighting back when the world turned its back on her. With...

Sometimes the best memories are the ones we don’t plan. (Don't judge us, just yet! We're being financially irresponsible with spontaneity.) We went to Iligan and, without much thought, decided to stay the night. It was me, Pat, my best friend, and her boyfriend, just the four of us chasing a pause. The city greeted us with its quiet charm. We didn’t need grand plans; a simple staycation was what we needed to fuel us for the next work week. We laughed, shared stories, and let the night carry us. That one night reminded me that rest doesn’t have to be complicated. A quick escape, good company, and a change of scenery can fuel you for the week ahead. On the bus ride home, Pat and I  listened to music, laughed, and shared our thoughts. It was such an intimate moment between us two—a reminder of how important it is to reconnect with your partner.  When Mariah Carey’s Hero played, Pat explained the meaning of the song and let me read through the lyrics. As I took them in, my chest...