u/Odd-Way6406

I don’t know why, but I still miss you.

I’ve tried to keep myself busy. I have several careers and responsibilities now more than two jobs, actually, five and I often tell myself that if I fill my life with enough things to do, perhaps there will be no room left for thoughts of you.

I thought I would eventually forget you, just as I did when I left this city years ago. I moved away, studied, built a life for myself, and tried to open my heart to new people and new possibilities. I thought distance would be enough to erase whatever this feeling was.

Perhaps, for a while, it did.

I grew older. I became a mother. I built a life I once believed would be enough to make me forget everything that came before it. I devoted myself to my career as a teacher and poured my energy into the life I was creating. I thought I had finally moved on.

And then I came back here.

Somehow, returning to this city brought you back with it not physically, but in my thoughts, in my memories, and in a place in my heart I thought I had long since closed.

Sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as soulmates. Not because we have shared some great love story, we haven't even had a real conversation. And perhaps that is what makes this so difficult to explain. How can someone I have barely known occupy such a strange and enduring place in my heart?

When I was far away, I would unexpectedly think of you. I used to believe that leaving would make the feeling disappear. Instead, distance only made me realize that some things cannot be measured by proximity.

I've even had dreams about you. In one of them, you were telling your friends that we were meant for each other. I know how strange that sounds, especially coming from me. Perhaps it is only my subconscious creating a story out of something I have never been able to understand.

But there is something about you that has always felt strangely familiar.

I've never truly loved anyone, not in the way people describe the kind of love that completely takes over your heart. And yet, somehow, after all these years, there is still this quiet feeling whenever I think of you.

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's simply nostalgia, an unfinished thought, or a story my heart created on its own.

But perhaps that's what makes the idea of a soulmate so beautiful. Sometimes, you don't understand why a particular person stays in your heart. You simply know that they do.

So, stranger, if you somehow find your way into my thoughts again after I finish writing this letter, I suppose I won't question it anymore.

Maybe some people are meant to remain strangers.

And maybe some strangers are meant to remain in our hearts long after we have convinced ourselves that we've forgotten them.

I don't know what you are to me.

But after all these years, I still find myself wondering if, somehow, I was meant to find you or perhaps, in some quiet and inexplicable way, you were always meant to find your way back to me.

To those who can relate,

What would you do if you were given an opportunity to prove that you are not merely average that you have what it takes to be the best, to consistently perform at the highest level, even when the standards are so high that being number one seems almost impossible?

To be honest, I’ve always been competitive, and I know I have perfectionist tendencies. I enjoy challenges because they push me beyond my comfort zone and force me to discover what I’m truly capable of. Recently, I was given an opportunity to take on one of my dream jobs, and while I’m incredibly grateful for it, I also find myself overwhelmed by the pressure that comes with it.

The challenge is that I can’t give all of my attention to this one job because I have other projects and responsibilities that also require my time and energy. It’s nerve-wracking because part of me is excited and eager to begin, while another part of me feels paralyzed by the thought of not being good enough or not being able to meet the standards I’ve set for myself.

Maybe that’s the irony of being ambitious: sometimes, the desire to do something exceptionally well becomes the very thing that makes you afraid to start. But perhaps proving yourself isn’t about being perfect or always being number one. Maybe it’s about having the courage to start, knowing that you may not be the best yet, and being willing to work until you become someone who can meet the standard.

Perhaps my own ending is closer than I realize. Still, I am at peace. Even though I have yet to share my life with someone, you made me feel seen, valued, and genuinely special.

And when the day comes that the Creator calls for the vessel He once entrusted to me, I only hope that, wherever I am then, I will still be able to remember you and the way you made this life feel a little more meaningful.

Writing this letter has made me realize, more deeply than ever, that life can be extraordinarily beautiful when we choose to give it meaning. Perhaps the value of life is not measured by how long we are given, but by how deeply we live, how sincerely we love, and how much light we leave behind.

To everyone whose time on this Earth may be shorter than expected, I hope you make the most of the days that remain. May they be filled with love that feels genuine, laughter that comes effortlessly, moments worth remembering, and a quiet sense of joy and peace.

Life may be temporary, but the meaning we give it and the love we share along the way can endure far beyond our time here.

I just read the announcement about approving new games for publication, and honestly, I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I think it could be a great opportunity to showcase what we’re capable of and actually bring some of our ideas to life. On the other hand, there’s obviously some uncertainty involved, especially when you’re putting time and effort into something without knowing how it will ultimately be received.

I have quite a few ideas for different games I’d like to develop, so part of me is really tempted to take the opportunity and see what I can do. I’ve also been thinking about reaching out directly. We’re already acquainted, and I’ve previously spoken to him about some improvements I’d like to make, so I feel like it wouldn’t be completely out of the blue.

That said, I’m still hesitant because it does feel like a bit of a gamble. I’d genuinely like to hear what you guys think. Do you see this as a worthwhile opportunity to experiment, create something original, and prove what you can do, or do you think it’s better to be cautious before committing to it?

Dear Dad,

I have spent most of my life wondering about you.

I grew up without your presence, but somehow, you were never completely absent from my thoughts. I heard fragments of your story through my family, and I was told that I resemble you. Perhaps that is why I always felt there was a part of me that belonged to someone I had never met.

For years, I wondered where you were, whether you ever thought about me, and whether you ever wondered what kind of woman I became.

I wanted to meet you.

And somehow, after all these years, I finally discovered that the man I had been quietly searching for the man I had been trying to identify from the little information I could gather, was actually you.

You were not merely a name from my childhood.

You were real.

You were my father.

Last April, I met with one of my aunts, and she assumed that I already knew you. I didn't. At least, not in the way a daughter is supposed to know her father. I only knew pieces of you, stories, photographs, memories borrowed from other people, and whatever I could discover on my own.

I suppose I became a little obsessive about finding answers. I searched. I followed clues. I tried to connect the pieces. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was simply what happens when someone grows up with a question that has never been answered.

And now I finally have an answer.

It's you.

But knowing that has brought me both happiness and sadness.

Because I finally found my father at a time when I am beginning to understand that I may not have as much time as I once thought.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I don't know how long I will remain healthy enough to travel, to walk around freely, or to simply sit across from someone and have a conversation. I am not saying that I am leaving tomorrow. I'm not. But I've learned that life can change without asking permission, and I no longer want to postpone the things that matter most.

So I have one simple wish.

I want to have coffee with my father.

That's all.

I don't need an elaborate reunion. I don't need an apology written perfectly. I don't need you to somehow make up for every year that has already passed.

I just want to sit across from you.

I want to hear your voice.

I want to ask you the questions I've carried for years.

Most of all, I want to ask you:

Why did you leave?

My mother taught me something I have carried throughout my life. She told me never to hate you.

So I didn't.

I learned to love someone I never had the chance to know.

I don't know how a child learns to love an absent parent, but somehow I did. Perhaps because being angry at you could never completely erase the fact that you were still my father.

I understand that there were complicated circumstances between you and my mother. I have heard that, at some point, you tried to make amends, but by then, she no longer wanted you in her life.

I don't know every side of that story.

And perhaps I never will.

But I don't want to inherit the wounds of the past.

I want to understand them.

I also want you to know that you have a grandson.

My child.

And strangely enough, he looks like you, too.

Sometimes I look at him and wonder whether you would recognize yourself in his face.

I wonder whether you would want to know him.

Whether you would want to hear him call you Grandpa.

Whether, after all these years, you might want to acknowledge him as your grandson and allow him to know the man whose features somehow found their way into his face.

I no longer use Facebook. I've grown tired of constantly building connections with people who come and go. At this point in my life, I don't want hundreds of connections.

I want something much simpler.

I want my father.

I heard that my aunt has reached out to you and asked you to add her to your list of friends. If she comes back to the Philippines and there is another family reunion, I hope you will be there.

Please show up.

Not because I want to force you into anything.

Not because I expect you to suddenly become the father I never had.

But because I would like, just once, to experience what it feels like to sit beside my father.

I want to feel that warmth.

That ordinary, uncomplicated feeling that other people may take for granted, the feeling of being someone's daughter.

I don't know whether I will ever get another opportunity.

And that thought frightens me more than I can explain.

I have never been married, but I have a child whom I love dearly. If you are willing, I want you to know him. I want him to know that he has a grandfather.

And I want you to know something else.

Despite everything,

I love you, Dad.

I loved you when I didn't know where you were.

I loved you when all I had were stories.

I loved you when I had questions instead of answers.

And I still love you now that I finally know where to find you.

Maybe that is the strangest thing about being your daughter: you were absent from my life, yet somehow you were always present in the questions I carried.

I don't want to die wondering anymore.

I don't want my last memories to be of searching for you.

I want one memory of finding you.

So, Dad, if there is still a little courage left between us, please use it.

Come to the reunion.

Sit with me.

Have coffee with me.

Let me look at you, not through a photograph, not through someone else's memories, not through a screen, but with my own eyes.

Let me finally know the man who gave me half of who I am.

You don't have to know the perfect thing to say.

You don't have to explain everything in one conversation.

Just come.

We can begin with coffee.

Then perhaps, after all these years, we can finally begin with the simplest sentence neither of us has ever been able to say in person:

“Hello, Dad.”

And if that moment is all I am given, I will still be grateful to God for allowing me to find you before my time runs out.

I never needed a perfect father.

I only wanted the chance to know my father.

I love you, Dad.

And I am still here.

Please find me while I am.

It’s 2026 already, and we have only four months and twenty days left. I’m not expecting anything from you anymore, but I can’t deny the curiosity. I wonder if we will ever have that first encounter the kind that turns years of wondering into something real.

I’ll be moving soon, and perhaps that is the bittersweet part of all this. I left the door open, but you never seemed willing to walk through it. Instead, you kept looking for me through other people, asking questions, gathering pieces of information, trying to understand me from a distance rather than simply coming to me.

Perhaps you were afraid of what you might discover. Perhaps you were overwhelmed by the possibility of actually making yourself known. Or perhaps I was never meant to be anything more than a beautiful possibility in your imagination a person you could wonder about safely because she existed only in your mind.

If that is what I am to you, perhaps I was always meant to remain there.

But strangely enough, you were the one who kept hesitating.

You could have approached me. You could have spoken to me. You could have taken the smallest risk and allowed reality to replace imagination. Instead, you chose the safer route: asking other people about me and collecting secondhand answers.

But how well can you really know someone through other people?

They can tell you what they believe, what they assume, what they remember, or what they want you to hear. They can give you pieces of a story, but they cannot give you me. If you genuinely wanted to know who I am, the most reliable source was never going to be the people around me.

It was always going to be me.

And perhaps that is the irony of this entire story: you spent so much time trying to find your way toward me without ever actually taking the step that would bring you there.

So, with only a few months left before I move on, I’m no longer wondering whether you will find me.

I’m wondering whether you will finally stop looking for me in everyone else and have the courage to look directly at me.

Because eventually, a fantasy has an expiration date.

And perhaps I was never the person you were supposed to lose.

Perhaps I was simply the person you were too hesitant to meet.

There once was a dream kept in mind,
A woman he endlessly tried to find.
He asked everyone near,
Yet never came near,
Perhaps fear was the answer he'd find.

I think I finally unlocked something in myself.

Not anger. Not revenge. Just clarity.

There comes a point when you stop asking why people treated you a certain way and start asking yourself why you ever gave their behavior so much power over your peace.

I think I’ve reached that point.

Some of you deliberately played games, tested my patience, said things you knew would hurt, or treated my feelings as though they were something you could pick up and put down whenever it suited you.

Perhaps you thought I wouldn't notice.

Perhaps you thought I would keep reacting.

Or perhaps you simply underestimated how much a person can learn from being repeatedly disappointed.

Either way, thank you.

You gave me something you probably never intended to give me: the reason not to chase.

You taught me that when someone's actions consistently make you feel confused, unwanted, or emotionally exhausted, the answer isn't always to try harder to understand them.

Sometimes the answer is to stop participating.

Quite revolutionary, I know.

I've realized that I don't need to retaliate against people who intentionally hurt me. That would require me to remain emotionally invested in something I've already decided to outgrow.

I'd rather leave people with the consequences of their own choices.

After all, actions have an impressive memory.

I’m not angry about the past. I simply refuse to carry it into my future.

I can remember the names, the jokes, the manipulation, the mixed signals, the unnecessary cruelty, and all the little games without allowing any of them to determine who I become.

I've learned from all of it.

From love.

From disappointment.

From betrayal.

From being underestimated.

And especially from being treated as though my feelings were something insignificant.

I'm not the same person you once knew.

Not because I became cold, but because I finally became discerning.

There is a difference.

I no longer feel the need to explain my worth to people who were committed to misunderstanding it.

I don't need apologies.

I don't need closure from people who created the confusion.

And I certainly don't need revenge.

Sometimes the most intelligent response is simply to remove yourself from the equation.

You may still see me.

You may still remember me.

You may even think you know me.

But you won't have the same access to me anymore.

And that's not punishment.

That's a boundary.

Perhaps the irony is that some people only realize your value once you stop making yourself available to them.

That's unfortunate timing, but timing has never been particularly sentimental.

So thank you for playing the games.

Thank you for hurting my feelings.

Thank you for giving me reasons to question what I deserved.

And, most importantly, thank you for eventually teaching me that I don't have to participate in anything that costs me my peace.

You gave me the reason not to be chased.

I simply learned to stop waiting.

No hatred.

No revenge.

No dramatic war.

Just a quiet decision to move forward.

And honestly, that's probably the most inconvenient ending I could have given you:

I learned the lesson, and I left the game.

Sometimes, life has a quiet way of revealing people’s intentions.

I find it curious how someone can seem so unfamiliar with you, yet somehow feel drawn to you now. As though a change in circumstances, appearance, or perspective suddenly made you worthy of being noticed.

But I have not suddenly become someone new.

The person you are curious about today is the same person who existed long before you noticed her.

Same heart. Same mind. Same soul. Same struggles. Same dreams. I simply grew, changed, healed, and became more comfortable in my own skin.

And perhaps that is why I find your attention difficult to understand.

If you feel something for me now, I hope you take the time to understand where those feelings truly come from. Sometimes we are attracted to what is visible, while failing to recognize the person beneath it.

I don't want to be someone's fascination because I have become more pleasing to their eyes. I want to be known in the quiet places, the parts of me that cannot be measured by appearance, attention, or admiration.

I also remember the difference between being seen and being truly seen.

There were seasons when I was easier to overlook, easier to misunderstand, and perhaps easier for some people to judge. I never held that against anyone. People see through the lens of their own understanding, and I have learned not to resent them for what they could not recognize.

But if you are finding yourself drawn toward me now, be honest with yourself.

Don't pursue something simply because I have become unfamiliar in a way that fascinates you.

Don't confuse a changing image with a changing soul.

And don't mistake your newfound curiosity for a connection that was never given the chance to exist.

I don't hate you. I don't wish you anything but clarity and peace.

If you truly want to know me, then come without assumptions, without the opinions of others, and without being captivated only by what you see.

Look deeper.

Because I was always there.

You simply weren't looking closely enough.

And I hope that, if you choose to know me, you choose to know the whole person, not merely the version of me you happen to notice today.

Some souls don't become more valuable when they bloom.

They simply become easier for others to recognize.

I used to believe I had a long life ahead of me. After everything I had survived, I thought nothing else could break me. I endured experiences that many people could never imagine. Sometimes I think I deserve a badge of honor for making it this far because there were moments when the trauma was so overwhelming that I didn't know how I managed to keep going.

Now, life has presented me with another challenge, an illness that reminds me every day that life is fragile. It feels like a ticking time bomb. I can still live normally, laugh, and smile, but every now and then the thought creeps into my mind that perhaps my life won't be as long as I once imagined.

I'm not writing this because I've given up. I'm writing this because I want to leave behind my truth. This is a letter to myself and to anyone who has ever carried invisible wounds while pretending everything was fine.

The deepest wound I carry began when I was a tween.

I was sexually assaulted inside my own home by my mother's brother. The place where I was supposed to feel safest became the place where my innocence was stolen.

What hurt just as much as the assault itself was what happened afterward.

My family knew.

Yet no one made sure I received therapy. No one took me to a psychologist. No one truly helped me heal. Instead, I was left to carry the trauma by myself for years.

I wanted justice, but deep inside I believed it would never come. I was only a niece, while he was my mother's brother. I felt powerless, convinced that no one would ever choose my side over his.

The silence became another form of pain.

For years, I blamed myself. I questioned my worth and hated the person I saw in the mirror. My confidence disappeared, and loneliness became my closest companion. Although people saw me spending time with cousins or a few friends, they never knew the darkness I carried inside. I smiled on the outside while hiding a secret that consumed me every day.

Not because I wanted to protect him, but because I didn't know how to find the words.

Years later, something changed.

My mother and aunt criticized the way I dressed. Their words awakened something inside me. I could no longer stay silent. I finally told some of my relatives and even someone I once considered a friend what had happened to me.

It hurt to hear people judge how I dressed when they had no idea what I had already survived. I was a child when I was assaulted. The man responsible wasn't a stranger hiding in the shadows. He was their own brother.

That is the cruel irony.

The victim was expected to remain silent, while the person who caused the pain continued living as if nothing had happened. I never received an apology. I never received the justice I deserved.

Not knowing my father made everything even more difficult. I often felt like I had no one to lean on. I learned to survive on my own because I never truly felt protected.

Life continued to test me.

When I started working from home, I became the target of bullying by some of our neighbors. I told my family, hoping they would stand beside me, but they simply told me to ignore them because they were "just jealous."

Once again, I felt alone.

Instead of waiting for someone to defend me, I found the courage to confront the people who were bullying me. I realized that if I didn't stand up for myself, no one else would.

Even as a child, life seemed determined to test me.

When I was six years old, I nearly drowned while I was with my mother's friends. They were so afraid of my mother's reaction that they begged me not to tell her. I stayed silent for years and only told her when I was around twenty years old.

Looking back, I realize my life has never been extraordinary in the way people usually define it. I didn't grow up surrounded by comfort or security. My story is filled with trauma, silence, loneliness, and survival.

Yet somehow, I kept going.

I survived sexual assault.

I survived years of self-hatred.

I survived bullying.

I survived loneliness.

And now I am fighting an illness that has made me realize how precious and uncertain life truly is.

Sometimes I wonder how much time I have left. I don't have the answer, and perhaps no one ever does. But what I do know is that I don't want my story to disappear with me.

If you've experienced abuse, betrayal, bullying, or abandonment, I hope you know that you are not alone. Your pain is real. Your voice matters. What happened to you was never your fault.

As for me, I am still waiting for justice not only for the woman I am today but for the little girl who deserved to be protected, believed, and loved.

She deserved so much more than silence.

And so did I.

Sometimes I wander through the roads of what if and why,
Chasing the echoes of a love that never learned to fly.
I tell myself I'm doing fine, that I've let you go,
Yet somehow your memory always finds me when the night winds blow.

I wouldn't call it loneliness at least that's what I say,
But every thought of you steals a little light away.
I smile, I laugh, I play my part beneath the open sky,
Yet your name still lingers like a whisper passing by.

How many times have I lost you inside my restless mind?
Too many dreams, too many hopes I've left behind.
What if we talked? What if we laughed until the morning light?
Would we have found forever, or faded with the night?

What if we dated? Would your heart have chosen mine?
Would our souls have met as if by perfect grand design?
Or would I have become another face, another fleeting name,
A spark that burned for just a while before it lost its flame?

I thought I'd buried every thought, every trace of you,
Yet memories bloom like flowers kissed by morning dew.
Why do you haunt the corners where forgotten feelings sleep?
Why are the wounds I thought had healed still buried twice as deep?

Some days I wish that I could see you, if only for a while,
To stand beside you, hear your voice, and lose myself within your smile.
To walk with you through quiet streets where time would gently cease,
Believing for one fleeting moment my restless heart found peace.

I know I've lost you, perhaps you were never mine to keep,
Just a beautiful dream that vanished with my sleep.
Yet still my heart writes verses the stars already knew,
Some loves are never meant to last...
yet never stop loving you.

Bakit ganun? Parang pag iniisip kong mag isa ako, wala akong someone na magdedefend sakin or magproprotect sakin, na iniisip ko na kaya tong mag isa. Nandyan ka pala na lagi mo akong iniisip, lagi mong winiwish na sana tayo na pero lagi kang nalang naka tingin sakin sa malayo, lagi ka nalang nagtatanong sa mga taong nakakasalamuha ko or satingin mong mga taong nakakakilala sakin. Hindi nila ako lubos na kilala. Yes they see me, yes I speak to them if I need to speak to them, but they they don't really know me. Bakit ka ganun? Ilang years mo itong ginagawa sakin. Bakit hindi ka nalang mag move on? Kaya ko tong mag isa, I am used to doing things all by myself. I think I'll die alone and grow old alone. Okay na akong ganito, for years. I have been single, for years I never crave someone to be with me. Okay na ganito nalang. Ikaw, maraming my gusto sayo, mamili ka nalang sa kanila. If I found the right term, I think yan yung term na lumabayan mo nalang ako. Dahil wala naman ngyayari. I am your wish lang pala. Mahirap ba akong abutin? Tigilan mo na pagpaparinig or pagtatanong sa mga taong satingin mo kilala ako. Pag tagal, kelangan magsosorry ba ako pag hindi mo na ako makikita? Panaginip mo lang ako, gising ka na. Nagpapasalamat ako sayo na meron palang taong katulad mo. Yes, I've dated men in the past, pero wala sa kanila ang hinahanap ko, I have never been serious in the past. Wala akong minahal sa mga nakilala ko. All of them are just fleeting. Maybe sinubukan ko lang kung paano mag ka boyfriend, kung ano feeling pag I am dating. Walang nakakakilala sakin ng lumubusan. If you want to know me, talk to me. Bakit nag rerely ka sa mga taong nakakausap ko or nakakasalamuha ko? Pag nalalaman ko yun, I feel para akong isang kriminal. Kasi nafeefeel ko sinusundan mo ang ako. Meron ba akong nagawang mali? Well, maybe iba tayo ng perception. Well, tahimik akong tao, pero pag my gusto akong malaman, I go straight sa source, walang years of years na pag tatanong sa ibat ibang tao. Anyway, I don't know if nababasa mo itong post ko. One thing for sure, I'll move out din soon. Gusto ko lang ng peace and harmony sa paligid ko. Yoko ng mga taong chismosa na minsan sinisira ang pangalan ko. Pag tatawanan ako. Ingat sa pag tanong tanong pag bumibisita ka, kasi ibang kinakaibigan mo sinisiran ako sa yo. Pero na sasayo na yun kung magpapauto ka. Anyway, yun lang. I don't know until when mo ito gagawin. Time will tell, I guess pero if I were you. I think masaya ka naman, live your life. I still have missions to accomplish and pag natapos ko mga yun, I guess I am already good. Na realize ko, ikaw lang yung years and years na super patient to know my information. Sorry I just feel like a fugitive. I dealt with boys like you. It started nung elementary, highschool, college, sa work place, pero lahat sila nakilala ko agad and they told me their intentions, tapos work from home na ako, it ended ikaw na. I know, if I am right, hindi lang because I started working from home. You were there, matagal ever since bata pa tayo, right? pero kinalimutan na kita kasi alam ko my crush ka sakin pero you never bothered to talk to me. Sa tagal nun, bakit ako parin ang gusto mo? when I came back here sa city, dun ko lang narealize na oh, I remember someone and that is you. Hindi ko alam kung bakit. Sometimes, I really want to talk to you, pero hindi kasi ako yung matanong na tao na parang ikaw. I don't ask anyone. I think ganito ganito nalang tayo. HIde and seek. Magtatago ako, hanapin mo ako. Pero pasensiya nalang if one day, hindi mo na ako mahahanap. I am sorry. :(

It has been years, and I've waited, but nothing has happened. I don't understand why you keep waiting for me if you aren't going to do anything. If you've been quietly watching me all this time, know that I've noticed you too.

There's something I need to tell you. I've been diagnosed with a disease, and it has changed the way I look at life. I don't want you to keep waiting for me because I know there may come a day when it's simply too late.

Please move on. Find someone who can give you the future you've always dreamed of. Get married, build a family, and live a happy life. I don't want to remain just your "long-time crush," the person who makes you smile whenever you see me or hear my voice, but never becomes part of your life.

If you never intended to approach me, then please stop asking people about me. We both deserve the chance to move forward instead of living in "what ifs."

I live in a mountainous region. Developed naman na dito so hindi talaga yung pang off-roading. Pero oo, nasa list ko rin yung pang off roading na sasakyan. Someone suggested a Suzuki S-Presso. Nakita ko na siya and cute naman. Yes, nasabi ko yan kasi girl ako. Gusto ko rin yung maganda yung itsura ng car. Do I also need to consider what tires ang pwede? Meron narin akong nakikitang nag eev dito. Dati I am considering buying a second hand car pero napansin ko 2 cousins ko panay napupunta sa repair shop yung mga kotse nila and yoko nun and wala din akong time sa ganun because I work from home and demanding yung work sched ko. Inuna niyo ba yung driver license niyo before you bought your car? And yun narin yung pampractice niyo? KAsi my driving lessons naman and they have cars naman for students. Gusto ko rin sana yung maliit lang na car, kung pwede yung pagong, wala na atang ganun or yung mr. bean car since I am stil starting.

Sa dami ng bayarin. I feel na parang wala na akong life—siguro ilang oras lang, tapos matutulog pa ako. Masaya na ako kung makakatulog pa ako nang mahaba, pero pag nag-extend ako ng sleep, I feel like sinayang ko ang oras ko. That's because ako lahat. Sabihin natin nung mayaman ako, I can afford a maid pero mother ko, puro nalang wag daw kasi you can't trust a stranger, and siya nalang, so I fed her and gave her allowance para she can also enjoy since she is taking care of my son at that time. Pero napansin ko, medyo naiinis pa siya noon kasi hindi niya gustong mag-alaga ng bata. When I lost my job, and I got sick, she blamed me because nagagamit niya yung pension niya, which I paid for her nung mayaman pa ako. When I was healing, I finally started to work again. She also blamed me for stealing her food, nung sinabi niya na magkanya-kanya na kami. Nagulat ako kasi hindi naman siya ganoon dati sa akin. And sinisingil niya ako, so nung bumalik ulit ako sa work, wala akong magawa but to give her money. Ako ang lahat noong mayaman ako, pati credit card niya, ako ang nagbabayad. Magpapaalam pa siya kung puwede bumili ng ganito , ganyan sa akin, since mama ko siya, oo lang ako nang oo basta masaya siya. Anyway, I never knew my father, but I'll meet him soon because someone told me that I can soon see him. Yun nalang siguro ang gift ko sa sarili ko kasi nung nagbago yung mama ko, parang hindi ko na siya kilala. Masakit dun she lied to me, sabi niya patay na daw si papa. Pero I know hindi siya patay. I have been searching for him for years.