Don’t Stay Where You Are Needed. Go To Where You Are Loved.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m living a life I don’t fully deserve. No matter how many achievements I rack up, or how many times people praise my work, there’s this persistent voice in my head whispering that it’s all a fluke. That I don’t belong here. That I’m fooling everyone.

Imposter syndrome is like an unwelcome guest that shows up in the quiet moments, casting doubt on everything I’ve accomplished. It tells me that my success is an accident, that eventually, someone is going to figure out I’m not as capable as I seem. I look at others who seem to move through life with ease, confident and self-assured, and wonder how they do it—how they walk around without the constant fear of being “found out.”

For me, every new challenge feels like a test I might not pass. Even when I’ve prepared, even when I know my stuff, there’s that nagging feeling that somehow, I’m not good enough. The worst part is how easy it is to downplay my own efforts. I’ll tell myself, “It wasn’t that hard,” or, “Anyone could’ve done that,” as if minimizing my work will shield me from the possibility of failure.

But that doesn’t make the fear go away. It just hides it beneath layers of self-doubt. Instead of celebrating my victories, I question them. Instead of owning my success, I attribute it to luck or timing, convinced that at any moment, everything could come crashing down.

The thing is, I know I’m not alone in this feeling. So many of us walk around with this invisible weight, afraid that one wrong step will expose us. But I also know that those feelings aren’t truth—they’re just fear disguised as fact. And though I struggle with it, I’m learning that I don’t have to listen to that voice. I can acknowledge it without letting it dictate how I live.

Because the truth is, I’ve worked hard for what I’ve achieved. I’ve earned my place, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. And just because I grapple with feelings of inadequacy doesn’t mean I am inadequate.

It’s a journey, learning to silence the imposter in my head, but I’m on the path. Every day, I remind myself that I’m not just faking it—I’m showing up, doing the work, and becoming the person I’m meant to be.

No I love yous

Reading 1984 by George Orwell felt like a gut punch, and imagining it happening in the real world—or even in my own country—made it even more heart-wrenching. The way the Party strips away not only freedom but also the ability to think and feel independently is terrifying. As I turned each page, I couldn't help but cry, feeling as though my heart was being torn apart, especially when I thought about how easily such a regime could rise in any society if we're not vigilant.

In Orwell’s world, the total control over truth, history, and even relationships is brutal. If something like this were to unfold in my own country, it would mean the end of everything we hold dear—freedom of speech, connection with loved ones, and our sense of self. The idea of being watched constantly, never being able to trust even your closest friends or family members, is suffocating. Winston’s struggle against this control was a flicker of hope that I desperately clung to as I read, but when that hope was crushed, I felt an immense sense of loss, as if it could be our future, too.

If the government in my country ever wielded such total power, where dissenting opinions were erased and loyalty to the state became more important than truth or love, it would be devastating. The betrayal Winston experiences—both from Julia and from the world itself—felt personal, like it could happen to any of us under similar circumstances. The worst part was Winston's final breaking point, when he surrendered to Big Brother. I couldn’t help but think of how our humanity could be torn apart in the same way if our thoughts and emotions were manipulated to this extreme.

1984 made me cry not just for the characters but for the possibility that such a future could exist anywhere, even here. The thought that people could be forced to betray their own hearts and minds is terrifying, and it left me questioning how strong we would be in the face of such oppression. Would we resist, or would we, like Winston, eventually break?

This summer, I’m heading to Iloilo... alone. My best friend was supposed to join me, but she has important things to take care of, and I don’t want to get in the way.

I’ve already envisioned all the things I want to do in Iloilo. Plus, I’ll be attending a wedding in Capiz, which makes me even more excited for the trip!

I have peaches in the fridge and I’m gonna eat them now. 🍑

my thoughts are messy.

Saying goodbye to someone you once loved hits differently—it feels like you’re losing a piece of yourself, like the life you built together is slipping away. But as time passes, you start to see it for what it is: not a loss, but a chance to rediscover yourself and take back your heart. You learn to put your own needs, dreams, and happiness first. That’s where I am now, standing in that new, unfamiliar freedom.

No, I don’t want you back. Not in the way I once thought I would. We’ve grown older, and, more importantly, we’ve grown apart. The connection that once kept us close has faded, and with it, my need for you. I’ve taken that step many fear – the step towards reclaiming my own life, apart from the one we shared.

In the process of moving forward, I found myself rediscovering who I am. When you're with someone for so long, it's easy to lose yourself. You start compromising, blending your personality to fit theirs, and sometimes you forget the things that made you... you. But now, after letting go, I’ve started to rebuild. I’ve taken back my heart, my sense of self, and with that came the courage to start fresh.

I packed my bags and moved to a new city – the place where I was supposed to restart, to thrive, and find my footing. But instead, I’ve found myself feeling… nothing. It’s not that I expected things to immediately fall into place, but there’s an emptiness I can’t shake. It’s like I’m in the right spot for a new beginning, but my heart and mind just aren’t ready to bloom yet.

It’s strange. I’ve planted myself in fertile soil – a new city, new surroundings, new opportunities – but I refuse to let anything take root. I know there’s the potential for something beautiful to grow, whether it’s new friendships, a new love, or simply a new sense of belonging. Yet, for now, I’ve been keeping everything at a distance.

Maybe it’s fear. Fear of letting anything new take hold, knowing that it could uproot me once again. Or maybe it’s just that I need more time to heal, more time to understand who I am in this new chapter of my life. It’s hard to open up when you’ve just closed a door that was such a big part of your identity.

But even if I feel nothing at the moment, I know it’s temporary. I know that, eventually, something will take root – whether I let it or not. Life has a way of moving forward, even when we resist it. So, while I might not be ready right now, I’m learning to be patient with myself. I’m learning that it’s okay to not feel like I’m flourishing just yet. The seeds of growth are there; they’re just waiting for the right time to sprout.

For now, I’ll keep rediscovering myself, taking back more pieces of my heart and soul. And when the time comes, I’ll be ready to let something beautiful grow.

February 16, 2024

I find myself feeling a bit bored and lonely lately. It seems like work has taken over most aspects of my life, and I often crave some time alone to reset and find a sense of peace. Moving on from a heartbreak has proven to be quite challenging, and I genuinely wish no one had to endure the pain that comes with it. It's a difficult emotion to navigate, and sometimes it feels easier to succumb to it rather than fighting against it because it demands to be felt.

Love, as beautiful as it can be, sometimes has an expiration date. There are moments when you're overflowing with love for someone, only to wake up one day realizing that the feelings have changed. It's a tough position to be in, and as one-half of the relationship, letting go becomes the only viable option when it becomes one-sided.

Reflecting on being single, I wonder if it's a stroke of luck. In this state, you can avoid the potential heartache and solely focus on caring for yourself. Enjoying your own company becomes a gift, especially when friends are occupied with their own lives. It's liberating not to worry about upsetting someone just because you didn't get back to their messages. On the other hand, while it can feel lonely at times, I understand that people have their own lives and priorities, and I respect that.

Surprisingly, the highlight of my days is conversing with my therapist. It struck me as amusing that lonely individuals seek solace in paying therapists to listen, and I find myself falling into that category. Loneliness is a challenging emotion, and having someone to talk to about it has become a source of comfort for me.

I was full of hope then suddenly everything went crumbling down.