December 28, 2020 — Day One
It was a morning wrapped in quiet gloom, my heart heavier than the rain-laced sky above me. I walked along a mist-veiled street, clutching my black umbrella like a fragile shield against emotions I could not quite name.
Mid-step, I froze—wondering why such deep, uninvited pain had settled inside me. Thoughts swirled like storm clouds, pressing against my mind until breathing itself felt like a task.
I felt lost… untethered from time. The world blurred at the edges, like a painting smudged by unseen hands. Without much thought, I hailed a taxi—perhaps hoping movement would quiet the chaos within me.
My chest pounded wildly, as if trying to outrun my consciousness. I gathered what remained of my senses and forced a small, fragile smile—an attempt to trick my mind, even if only for a moment.
The silence was so consuming that even the nearby hum of jeepneys felt distant. Outside the taxi window, the world passed as vague streaks of motion, unreal and far away.
When the taxi stopped, I stepped back into routine, performing my duties as expected—unaware that an assessment awaited me. A one-on-one meeting with my superior.
A part of me trembled with nervousness, yet I chose calmness as my armor. I listened, quietly sorting through the tides of my thoughts. I knew I had room to grow. Anxiety lingered, yet relief followed close behind, like a gentle exhale after holding breath for too long.
December 29, 2020
The thought lingered, a quiet echo I couldn’t escape. In the solitude of the bathroom, I allowed myself to cry—whispering prayers only heaven could hear.
I told myself to stand firm. To let God guide my steps. To gather strength enough to face reality, no matter how heavy it felt.
I buried myself in the tasks laid across my table, trying to anchor my emotions through productivity—seeking validation, stability, grounding.
December 30, 2020
I tried to calm my spirit, letting soft Christian hymns wrap around my thoughts as I organized my space.
I made my bed carefully, prepared clothes and linens for laundry—simple acts of order against the noise in my mind.
Still, the murmurs in my head would not quiet.
I returned to sleep, letting motivational words play softly, hoping they would soothe the unrest in my soul. Later, I stepped outside for a walk and unexpectedly passed by a massage parlor—an ordinary place in an extraordinary moment of searching.
Then I met an old friend—a former churchmate. Time dissolved between us. We spoke, shared, listened. She welcomed my thoughts without judgment, just as I listened to hers. And in that exchange, something inside me felt lighter.
December 31, 2020
Illness settled into my body like an unwelcome guest. I hesitated about going to Arrezo Place for New Year celebrations.
Instead, I spent the day alone—curled on my bed, watching dreamers and creators chase their aspirations through the screen.
I called my housemate to say I wasn’t feeling well. I knew my body and mind needed rest more than celebration.
And strangely, I was okay with solitude.
I steamed hotdogs and embutido before taking my medicine—small comforts in a quiet room.
The heaviness remained. I spoke to God constantly, searching for a path where I could hear Him clearly. Yet silence answered me, like trying to tame an elusive lion hidden deep within its den.
January 1, 2021
Happy New Year.
I refused to let sorrow define my first sunrise of the year. I messaged my brother, reminding him how deeply I love him.
Now, I write these thoughts—raw, unfiltered, real. Please bear with me. I am learning to translate emotions into purpose.
Soft, calming sounds fill the air, helping my mind find focus, like stars aligning after a stormy night.
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