"I love you. I'm glad I exist."

The Orange
By Wendy Cope

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.

Some words for things

It's been a while. I know of only one person who still follows this blog, but I feel like giving an update on my life anyway. My apologies if it comes in fragments.

The day after my last entry, I started a new job with a BPO in Bonifacio Global City. It coincided with the flurry of events leading to my older brother's May 4 wedding, the best part of which was that my aunt and cousin from the United States came and stayed for three weeks.

My schedule was crazy for a good part of April and May, and, because work starts at 7am, I had to learn to become a morning person again, after years of working on my own time and, before that, on mid-shift.

All the changes in place and time meant that every little protective ritual I'd carefully built around my life as 2019 rolled in came crashing down.

This is not a complaint; quite the opposite, in fact. When I think of everything that has happened since, I feel grateful.


I worked freelance for close to five years because I wanted to take a break from a routine that had left me feeling unsettled and a little bit confused.

It was an adventure I'm happy I embarked on, even after realizing it wasn't for me, at least not at this point in my life. I was involved in several projects with people whom I loved being around, and while I didn't make as much money, my heart was always, always full.


I think I've settled a bit in a full-time role that I see myself growing in. There's so much more to learn, but I'm glad to see that all my skills and past work experiences seem to converge in this path.

Let's see where this road leads.


In the last five years, perhaps because I was able to take a step back and look at my life, I realized I had a mild form of generalized anxiety.

I'd read about it before, mostly in Western articles I didn't take seriously then, but it didn't occur to me that there were words for how I'd been feeling. Perhaps it was because I had tangible things to worry about back then?

In any case, knowing the name for what I had gave me some form of control, and I've been able to find ways to manage it, thanks to friends who've been through it as well.

A friend recommended journalling, another suggested meditation. These days, the good moments far outnumber the anxious ones.


There is someone I am interested in.

I wish I had words for how I feel about this particular person, and maybe that way I can somehow manage myself.

He makes me anxious in a way I both want to run to and run away from, and I do not know what to do.

But everything is okay. My heart is open.

A letter

I once found a letter in our mailbox that was addressed to nobody I knew. The address on the envelope was ours, but the name was a stranger, so short of going house to house in our neighborhood and asking for somebody by that name, I didn't know how else to help the letter find its way.

It sat on a bookshelf for weeks before I decided to open it. Maybe it contains a clue on the person's identity, I reasoned to myself, as I opened the envelope carefully so I could still seal it again.

It didn't. It was an apologetic love letter, from someone who hadn't communicated in a long time, a ghost before ghosting had become a phenomenon people would write and tell stories about.

I haven't forgotten you, the letter said in Filipino, and I am sorry if you think I have. Do you still live in this address? Please let me know. It was signed with love, sent from foreign waters with no specific return address.

For a few seconds, I felt like I had been handed an important mission by the Universe: to bridge a couple's eternal love.

Then a few seconds after that, I put the letter down. If he really loves her, he will have to find his way.