Charm In Ink

  There are days when I wish life had a reset button. Not a full reset—nothing extreme like going back to diapers or elementary school. I’m talking about a rewind. Maybe a decade back. Maybe to 18, when I was still figuring things out, still allowed to stumble. If I could just go back and make different choices—smarter ones, kinder ones—maybe things would look better now. But I can’t. And here I am at 28. Not quite young anymore, but not exactly old. Somewhere in that blurry, confusing in-between. It’s like being stuck in a holding pattern while everyone else’s lives are taking off. The Lie of Having It All Figured Out At 28, there’s this quiet expectation that you should have something to show for yourself—a degree, a stable job, maybe even a relationship, a savings account, or a five-year plan. But what happens when you don’t have any of those? What happens when all you have is a pile of unmet goals, faded dreams, and a voice in your head constantly whispering: You’re behin...

  When I left for Europe, it wasn’t just a trip. It was a mission, a commitment. I went as part of the Philippine UPR Watch delegation, carrying with me the stories of our people, the struggles back home, and our collective hope for justice and accountability. As the Lead Convenor of Defend Southern Tagalog, I stood in rooms and on streets across different cities, speaking not only for myself but for communities silenced and marginalized for far too long. I thought that after fulfilling this deeply meaningful work, I would come home to another dream finally coming true: my graduation. I imagined arriving back home fulfilled, tired but triumphant, and soon after, walking across the stage wearing my sablay — the symbol of years of hard work, sleepless nights, and unending perseverance. But life had other plans. I found out I wasn’t graduating while I was already in Europe. In between meetings, human rights conferences, and advocacy visits, I received the news that shattered me. A ...

  Today, I attended what may very well be my last face-to-face undergraduate class — not just for the semester, but maybe for my entire college life. Not maybe . I hope . I pray . I need it to be the last one. As I walked out of that classroom, I was hit with a flood of emotions. Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it. There’s still so much uncertainty. I have three major requirements left , and I honestly don’t know if I’ll make it. I’m praying — to every god and force out there — please, help me graduate this semester. It feels so surreal to be here. I started college twelve years ago . Twelve years. That’s a lifetime of starting, stopping, falling behind, trying again. And now, as I stand at the edge of what I hope is the finish line, I’m feeling a mix of fear, hope, nostalgia, and exhaustion . "What happens if I don’t make it this time? What do I do? What face do I have left to show?" Despite the fear, I know there are still things I can do. I can still give i...