To the 30 year old me.

Today is my 23^rd birthday and I am writing you a letter. Perhaps you are wondering why. Here’s an uncomplicated, trouble-free answer for that: I don’t want to turn 30 and ask myself, “Why haven’t I?” I’ve decided not to add this to the pile of regrets I’ll probably have in my 30’s. Besides, I’ve been meaning to write you a letter for a long time but you know how busy I am with irrelevant, futile things at the moment.

Before typing down my initial sentences, I asked myself: what would be the first thing I would like to ask my 30 year old self? For some reason, this query reminds me of the pageants you / we oh-so promised never to join but ended up on stage anyway. Yeah, we’re foolish like that. There are plenty of things I would want to know about particularly matters a propos to career and personal life, but ultimately, I want to ask you: “How have you been holding up?” I’ve been told that the 30s is a crucial stage of balancing out life. You have to know when to party and when to take things seriously. When I was in high school, I thought life in 20s will be sweet, thrilling, and seamless. But it turns out not all candies have a surprise center, and you wish you could warn yourself to stop sucking because there is nothing in there to swallow. How I wish being 20 comes with a survival kit.

You are probably dubious as to what this letter is all about. For now I can only tell you what it is not. It is not a survival kit for your 30s. The rest is for you to figure out as you read along the lines. This will probably be the longest letter you will ever read in your life.

I assume that at this moment, you have already met the man you plan on sharing your lifetime with. Thank heavens! Is he everything you've always dreamed of? Growing up, the guys you want to write love stories with are often fictional, which explains your lack of dating experience. You are one tough shell to crack and you have these impossibly high standards that real life guys might not actually have. But you believe otherwise, don’t you? You think that if a fucked-up girl like Tiffany was able to find Pat Peoples, you are going to have the same fate. You held hold on to Jane Green’s words. That there’s a lid for every cup, no matter how bent, misshapen, or ugly. If remembering the words of your favorite authors have helped you find the love of your life right now, then I’ve probably done something right in my 20s.

But if you ever find yourself still single, fret not.  You are probably worried that you might never find someone who can meet your Augustus Waters standards - someone who’s willing to sacrifice his last wish with “The Genies” to fulfill an insane dream of meeting your all-time favorite author. Well you have to remember that Maricar Reyes was in the same dilemma as you, but she got married anyways. On her wedding interview she said, “You can set your standards high and trust that God will give you that standard.” You see, just have faith and remember that it’s better to be single than be in a wrong relationship. For the meantime, enjoy your fascinating quest in finding your better half.

Have you been keeping in shape lately? When was the last time those running shoes have been worn? If you don’t know the answer to that question, get your ass off that chair and run away. Have you forgotten how freeing it feels to run outside with JT’s voice blasting on your earphones? It was your favorite therapy. I hope you can contrast how heavy you felt before you started running and how weightless you are afterwards.

Also, please don’t do things half-heartedly. I can forgive myself for being fearful in my 20’s, but I cannot do the same for you. Remember the quote that you would often repost in Tumblr? “Twenty years from now you’ll be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the things you did.” So get that bob cut you’ve been wanting to try, or color your hair ombre! Love someone like a madman loves his opium. Cry miserably when you’re hurt. Run and only stop when you’re fully exhausted. Express yourself in the boldest manner – let go of your safe words. Curse if you must! Do me a favor right now and listen to Sarah Bareilles’ Brave words.  

How’s mom, by the way? I know we don’t always get along right now; every day is a love-hate relationship. I remember Rhiannon’s image about her mom, “how no one can make you angrier, but how you can’t really love anyone more.” It’s the perfect description! I hope you spend more time with her than I did. Remember how you would opt to wake up at 9:00AM just to make sure that she already left for work so you won’t have to hear her incessant wailing in the morning? Stop that. You don’t want to wake up one day and find that she’s completely gone. 

As for dad, you are in-charge of his health. I expect his stubbornness to worsen as he ages so please be patient. He may be far from Ned Stark, but he loved us the best way he knew how. Give him the greatest gift a father could ever receive from his daughter by asking him to walk you down the aisle.

Career-wise, I don’t have much to say in this facet. I am already struggling with which path to pursue at the moment. Each turn seems to lead to a cul-de-sac, and I fear I may never find the way back. I wish that it’s you who’s writing me a letter right now, telling me to let go of the woes because everything I dreamed of doing transpired in finality. But since it’s the other way around, let me just say I hope you are genuinely happy with your career choice. And if you find you are not, don’t be afraid to start all over again. Remember your journey with Santiago where you learned, “When you want something the entire universe conspires in helping you achieve it.” Try showing the world how much you want a career-change and it might just be freely handed to you. Go seek your great perhaps just as what Alaska did. 

Viel glück my future self! Enjoy the ride.

Sincerely yours,

23. 

Letter Number 11: To the ladies.

This is for the girls who were always treated as an option and never a priority.

Here’s to the silence you keep when it’s easier to whine about how badly your day went because some pretty girls obnoxiously ripped your self-image apart. Here’s to your fragile hearts that got broken over someone whom you never even dated. Here’s to the late night studying on a Friday night when everyone else is out partying.

This is in honor of the girls who were used as bridges to build relationship between couples, when she couldn’t even build a love story of her own. The girls who would rather be behind curtains than risk being laughed at on spotlight. The girls who were simply told they were not good enough. The girls who would starve themselves to death because society called them fat, or because their boyfriends replaced them with someone they could never measure up with. For the girls who’ve been used, rejected, laughed at.

Solitude has always been your sanctuary. A place where you feel safe but unhappy, secured but not loved. I’m not gonna give you false reassurances because that’s not what I am here to do. I give you hope, not by saying the world’s gonna change; but I give you hope by saying one day you’ll be forever changed by everything you had been through. One day, you will look back and realize that thanks to the tragedies you’ve had, you become what you are now: a far better individual that you once were. Wait patiently. Beginnings can be rough, but you’ll see that God will give you an ending more beautiful than you could ever imagine.


Sincerely yours,
Me. 

Letter Number 10: To Rachel

I held you in my arms at 2:35 am. As soon as the ER nurse called your admission, I began my distress. “For standby intubation,” –these are the words most dreaded by any nurse who knows how to read beyond doctor’s orders.  In medical world, that basically translates into “you have a few hours to live.”

Yet I stood there, hoping you were a miracle.

You were breathing heavily, too rapidly, and the oxygen support didn’t seem to be of much sustenance at all. In fact, your O₂ Sat was 9 digits low. Again, I began my uneasiness. I laid you under close watch service, on the first bed where I could see you from the nurse’s station.

I’m sorry you had to share a bed with another patient. I couldn’t risk placing you on the farther side of the ward, in case…you know, something bad happens. You need to be attended every hour. You were high-maintenance, and though I had 21 other patients last night, you pretty much consumed my 8-hour shift.

Your chart wasn’t modest of your condition. It read: Pneumonia very severe s/p colostomy 2010, Down Syndrome.  You had, not just one, not just two, but three diagnoses. First problem was that your airway was clogged with mucus, which explains the little oxygen circulating in your body. Second, you weren’t blessed with an orifice on your rectum so in 2010, they had attached a “poo-bag” for you. That, by the way, increased your risk for infection. And third, you were born with chromosomal aberration.  

Am I now sounding too technical for you? Don’t worry. You don’t have to understand these things at such a young age. All you had to do was fight your battle. You carry a deadweight much heavier than you can endure but you lay there with your eyes closed, looking tranquil in sleep. Were you dreaming of heaven, Rachel? I guess I will never know.

Your mother was kind, and so is your grandmother. They amenably did what I asked them to do and they never left your side. But at around 4 in the morning, your vitals started deteriorating. Your O₂ Sat fluctuated from 90 to 64 to 85. Your heart was pounding for the lack of oxygenated blood, and on top of that, you were having a hyperthermia.

Nebulization every two hours began and we suctioned your secretions after that. Did you feel any bettering? Your vitals expressed no, but only you can best judged what you had felt. Just one more hour and you will be surviving my shift. I put away the emergency cart since you didn’t look like you were going to have a cardiac arrest within my duty. But in the midst of the endorsement, 30 minutes passed my shift, your mother came running and said something I could barely understand. But no words needed for that, because as soon as I saw her face, I knew. I jumped on my feet, grabbed the stethoscope and rushed your way.

When I reached you Rachel, you were no longer gasping for air. I placed the stet on your chest and heard nothing. The pulse oximeter now reads 0 0 – negative for oxygen and negative for pulse rate. I immediately called your physician, and while on his way, I grabbed the emergency cart that I just put away. I didn’t notice how malnourished you were until we had to stripped you off your clothing and do chest compression. I could do a mental count, not only of your ribs, but as well as your intercoastal spaces. That’s how skeletal you were. I injected Epi in your system to start the heart pumping, but not even a flutter could be heard. Your O₂ was now on full blast, but we were the ones doing the breathing for you.

Last try, another dose of Epi was ordered. But you were still a flat line.

At 7:45 am Rachel, your doctor pronounced you dead. I started returning everything that I had put out for you: the pulse oximeter, the nebulizer, the suction machine, the E-cart, and the O₂ tank. None of these equipment were strong enough to fight a much bigger force.

You fought a hard battle, Rachel. Now it’s time for you to continue living in your dreams.


Sincerely yours,
Your Pedia Nurse

Letter Number 9: To the lady behind bars.

Dear Mrs. President,

I may not know much about politics, but I do know a thing or two about honesty. I was six when I read the story of the boy who cried wolf. Hasn’t anyone read you that story, Mrs. President? And hasn’t anyone told you that when you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth? 

I once had high hopes for you. I remember being twelve, on a lunch date with my family, in a local restaurant people applauded the resignation of President Joseph Estrada. But beyond that, I knew they were really applauding you. I felt the unfeigned cheers from everyone’s mouth, the goosebumps on every person’s body. You see, we saw you as our hope..a spot of green on a wilted leaf.

You were born from nobility. You have your father’s ambition and your mother’s fervor. But apparently, greatness is not something you can inherit. It’s actually something you have to make yourself up for. 

We believed every promise you made like we never heard a single lie in our life. We placed you our trust like we have never been betrayed by a president before. For once, we thought everything’s going to change. But it didn’t.

You had the brilliance, the power, and the passion of a leader. But you know what weapon you fell short on? Honesty. You have taken this virtue for granted that you forgot it’s the only thing that’s been keeping your people from falling apart. 

With honesty comes trust..and once the people realized you weren’t a trustworthy individual, they have struggled trusting you again even in times when you were probably telling them the complete truth. 

I felt sorry for all the Filipinos you have gravely disappointed. But watching the news, I realized the only person I feel sorry for is you. We Filipinos can move on from this tragedy, just as we had triumphed over our previous battles. But you, you will carry this guilt for a lifetime. And who knows maybe even after death when you will realize why you couldn’t enter the gates of heaven.

You are now reaping the fruits you have sown. Unfortunately for you, it taste bitter. 

Sincerely yours,

A Commoner.

Letter Number 8: To the seafarers.

You are stronger than depression and greater than loneliness. Nothing, not even the vast ocean nor the pissed nature, can entangle your way back home. You are tough and you do illustrious work even when under pressure - that's what makes you a true seafarer.

Nothing will ever exhaust you, as sailing is not meant for the weak hearts. The waves may at times be indignant, but you endure all that because you were fit to be bold, mighty, and brave. And those fears? It will never leave you. But you know in your heart that the more you fear the sea, the less you recognize what it has to offer. 

And at night you may get lost in darkness and despair, remember it's only in the black of night you see the stars. And those stars will lead you back home. It's a frightful travel to never know what lies ahead, but you are a seafarer - you best know that the journey is the destination and not the other way around.

The distance does kill you every second of everyday, but before you departed for the seas, you already primed yourselves with how much you are willing to lose for the gain. Good does not exist without evil, just as love doesn't exist without struggle. So when the waves get tough, you don't just quit. You know perfectly well the worth of what awaits you in those sunny shores.

You are a keeper for a woman's heart. You have stories to tell her and experiences to share. You were trained to be patient and persevering that you can outlast eternity at sea, knowing you have someone to look forward to when coming home. You don't sugar-coat words, instead you speak with integrity. And for once, she will believe a man's word like she never heard a single lie in her life.

To our heroes at sea, to the thousand nameless and ordinary sailors manning and operating ships at risk when we know where you'd rather be..we await for your return.


Sincerely yours,
The girl in the lighthouse. 

Letter Number 7: To the stranger.

I wrote this for you, and only you. Anyone else who chance upon this letter may think they understand, but they don't. You alone can fully fathom the words I'll be trailing this letter.

I looked back on our memories today. But wait, was it actual memories? We were never together but it felt too real for me. Looking back, I meant, was rereading the exchange mails we had for each other - how we have turned from a simple bystander to a now precious confidant.

It's funny how I've acquired a new ability of associating a person with other things, particularly you. How I remember you every time I see Tom and Summer together, even if I never really liked the movie that much. How I would look at the night sky and see something I never noticed before. You have always fascinated the moon and the stars that I developed a sudden enchantment in them as well.

At times I feel like it's unfair I never met you before - back when you were just a few distance away from where I am. And back when you have no exigency of sailing farther from me. But then I always arrive to a realization that there couldn't be a more perfect moment for us than now. I believe our heartbreaks ironically molded us into better persons for each other, and had I met you before that, you wouldn't have the warm-hearted princess that you now know. More so, perhaps our failed relationships were just a great rehearsal for a subsequent relationship in the future.

I know you think of me as someone who have taken you out from your misery. Someone who gave you endless advice. Someone who devoted time and effort in listening to your heartaches and rants about the mistakes you had in the past. But you should know, in your own way you made me see the possibility of moving forward in life no matter how terrible the grief. Because of you, I had the strength to go on. 

In a few days, we are to meet each other. And after that, who knows when we will cross paths again. It fears me to lose something I never really had in the first place. But if this never works out, I want you to know that I find myself thankful that you came into my life for even a short period of time.You have awakened my heart from a deep slumber, and I am forever grateful for the rare opportunity of being on cloud nine once again.

I am embracing what we have now, Nathan. Screw the circumstances, the possibilities of another heartbreak. Forget the past and just be with me in the present. For a moment I don't want to think of what lies ahead and please let that be. If I could just sit beside you and watch cheesy or crappy movies with you, I'd be perfectly blissful. Because there's really nothing I long for but your presence. 

I read a Chinese idiom that says "one day, three autumns," which means that when you miss someone, twenty-four hours can feel like a thousand and ninety-five days. And that's exactly how I am feeling right now. I miss your laugh, your voice. You.



Sincerely yours,
Cinderella

Letter Number 6: To the future boyfriend.

July 20, 2011

Hey you.

As I am writing you this letter, it has been 9 months since my first boyfriend and I broke up. I don't regret our lost love because if it hadn't ended, I would have not met you. In my past relationship, I hadn't been a perfect girlfriend. I had my fair share of tantrums. I get jealous. I get mean.

Forgive me, I am just a girl with sensitive needs and wants.

I'm okay if you're not perfect too. I will love all your faults because that's what makes you who you are. In fact, I will love you more because of it.

I won't say I'm a different person now. All I know is that I have improved over time. Time has healed the scars of my once tragic story and now I am ready to love again. I cannot promise you the world but I can give you something, something you have the power to break - my heart.

With you, I promise to love more and fear less. With you, I promise to neither care about the past nor the future, but rather, enjoy what we have at present. With you, I promise to give the utmost care I could give with no expectations in return. All I want is your heart in exchange of mine.

I may not know you yet, but I know you are out there. Perhaps I've seen you, but not know who you are. Perhaps you are here with me in this crowded room. Perhaps you are in a wrong relationship. I may not know you yet, but believe me when I tell you that I love you with all my heart.

Sincerely yours,

The future girlfriend.