It was early morning on December 16, 2018, when I walked toward the beach after the Misa de Gallo (dawn mass) my friends and I attended. Five years might’ve blurred some of that morning’s memory but some things remain as clear as the summer sky in the Philippines. The sea was at its calmest that morning; I could tell I was the one who brought tension in the serene December air of Bantayan Island. I later picked up my phone from where I’d been keeping it since the mass scrolled to find a family name in my inbox and bawled as softly as I could. I don't know how a soft and silent bawl was possible but I bawled and I'm sure of it. The kind of bawl that made your heart flutter in ways I wouldn't want to experience again. Then painful tears started flowing from my eyes; I’d been drowning in my pool of tears since October of that year and I didn’t know what else to feel other than sadness. I pulled out my phone and found myself keying in words that would later free me up from all the chains I tied myself into.
“I don’t want this kind of love. I don’t want your kind of love!”
I wrote and sent it hoping that it would be the last time I’d feel like I was already 6 ft underneath the Earth. But I was wrong. Five years later, I would’ve moved on, loved life again, and lived my life to the fullest every single day but life never got easier; life never got kinder and gentler. But amidst the realization that life's challenges will naturally compound, I look back with a grateful heart that I'm not alone in this journey, not anymore. This same bunch of crazily reliable people stood by me in my darkest days and seriously, I don't think I'd be alive now without their unfailing support, love, and understanding. Grateful to have sealed 2023 with all the love I needed when I needed it. I hope we all have dependable support system in good and bad times.
