Fault lines
It was 7:37 a.m., the 8th of June, 2026. I opened my eyes, heart racing, not to my alarm, but...
Hello, anxiety: my old friend
“Hi, Joyce! How are you?” “I’m good,” is how I would usually respond when asked such question. But deep down,...
To teach is to bleed
I woke up choking on blood. I barely made it out of bed; a thick, watery clump just poured out...
Sanctuary on fractured floors
My teachers told us we were the “pag-asa ng bayan” (hope of the country) before we even knew how to...
Someone has to build the floor first
Nobody told me that surviving could make you the villain. I found that out on my own, slowly, as you...
Why hope still matters to the young
I have often wondered if hope still mattered to young people when the meaning itself has become increasingly fragile. For...
Breaking up with the dating app
Now that all my dating apps are uninstalled, I don’t have it in me to be ashamed of admitting I’ve...
To dream in a third-world country
To dream in a third-world country is to carry a weight heavier than our bodies were built for. Our dreams...
Where are my two lines?
I did it again. I promised myself I wouldn’t take an ovulation test. But I couldn’t stop myself. I’m more...
Fog
Trigger warning: Mention of suicidal ideations. If you were to ask me what my greatest failure in life is, it...