Since it's almost midnight, I told myself I would read only a few entries. But instead, I spent hours sitting on the floor turning page after page. I was completely absorbed in a version of myself I had almost forgotten.
I laughed and laughed as I read my entries. I never realized I wrote cringey things back then, mostly about how much I hated doing the laundry and about my favorite TV drama. I wrote mostly about my crushes, mentioning how I am falling in love with them in multiple entries. Heck, teenagers really write about predictable things. But what surprised me wasn't the content. It was my consistency. I wrote regularly back then, like multiple times a day. I filled entire notebooks without thinking twice.
But damn, now I struggle to finish even two pages.
At some point over the years, writing became harder for me, even though life itself became fuller. I have more experiences now, more stories and complicated emotions, and more understanding of the world. By all reason, I should have more to write about. But I often find myself staring at blank pages with nothing to say. Or worse, too much to say all at once.
Maybe writing was easier when I was younger because I had not yet learned how to hold back.
Back then, I wrote everything down without shame. I wrote unapologetically every minor disappointment, every single interaction with someone I admire, and every fleeting thought I had. I was never worried whether my writing sounded intelligent or meaningful. The act itself was enough. The younger me thinks writing wasn't a performance. But now I edit myself before I even begin.
I think adulthood does that to people. You become more aware of how you sound. You become more careful, and your thoughts compete with responsibilities, distractions, plus the constant pressure to stay functional. There is less silence now. Less boredom, less time spent sitting alone with your own mind long enough to hear what it is trying to say. Reading my old journals made me realize how attentive I used to be to my own life. I noticed things back then. I wrote about ordinary afternoons, the weather, conversations with my siblings, songs playing in the background, and even wrote about the feeling of walking towards the bus stop after school. Nothing was too small to document. But I stopped paying that kind of attention and convinced myself that ordinary moments no longer deserved to be remembered.
Lately, my life feels less documented. It's been more than a month since my last journal entry, and days blur together quickly now. Sometimes I wonder how many memories I have already lost simply because I never wrote them down. Maybe that is why finding these old journals of mine affected me so much. They felt like proof that there was once a version of me who moved through life more slowly.
Anong gagawin ko dito? Naisip ko ‘hala baka tawagin ako to share’ eh di naman ako drug addict. Buti at ang tinatawag lang yung mga nagtataas ng kamay at nung binasa ko yung chat, nakalagay naman na ‘open to all’ yung meeting. Kaya hindi na din ako umalis, nakinig na lang ako sa mga kuwento nila. Ang napansin ko, karamihan sa mga nag-share na drug-free na ay mga kababaihan; yung iba sa kanila 4 na taon nang sober, yung ibang mas matatanda ay dekada na. Karamihan naman sa mga nag-share na addict pa rin at struggling ay mga kalalakihan. Tumatak sakin yung isang nag-share na lalaking estudyante. Umiiyak siya nung nagkukwento siya. Mga dalawang buwan na din siyang hindi gumagamit pero nate-tempt ulit siyang tumikim dahil sa pressure ng buhay estudyante. Binigay din niya ang contact niya dahil may mga iba sa room na gusto siyang tulungan. 5 minutes lang ang time allotment ng bawat isa. Bigla tuloy akong nagkainteres na mag-share ng saloobin ko, gusto kong mag-raise ng kamay kaso naalala ko sumasawsaw lang pala ako.
Pero nakakatuwa din at nakapakinig ako sa ganung meeting. Hindi lang naman sharing yung ginawa nila, may poetry reading pa silang ganap at may pa-mini games din. May participant pa mula sa isang county jail. Nung magsisimula na yung mini game, nag-exit na ako. Pero next time kung may pagkakataon ulit na makapag-gatecrash sa isang NA or AA meeting, bakit hindi. Di ba?
That was ten years ago. Since then, life has moved in different directions. We changed jobs, chased different careers, and our circles grew bigger. But somehow, we always found our way back to each other, even just once a year over drinks, over stories, over laughter that felt familiar no matter how much time had passed.
And now, she’s getting married and it feels right. It feels like something she has long deserved. I am so proud of her, of them, of the life they are building together.
Fast forward to January 2026, Ella finally sent us the wedding invitation along with the RSVP in our group chat. Everyone was excited, with conversations about the dress code, hotel bookings, and all that jazz. The wedding will be held in the province, far from the city, and far from where I live (I live in the north while most of my friends live south). But that’s okay. That should be okay, right?
But the truth is, I’ve been struggling financially for years and at some point, reality became impossible to ignore. I can’t afford the trip. I can’t afford a dress. I can’t afford a place to stay. I spent weeks going back and forth in my mind, trying to find a way, any way, to make it work. Because this is not just any event. This is my friend’s wedding, one of the very few people I keep close to my heart. And I want to be there. But I’m just not in a position to spend money on something I simply can’t afford.
And so after three days I finally declined the RSVP. I sent her a message telling her I couldn’t come and that I am happy and proud of her, that I love them both. I didn’t explain why. Pride told me to keep things to yourself, even when the truth is simple. I know Ella and Phil will understand. At least, I hope Ella will.
UPDATE: Ella has seen it, but hasn’t replied yet. I imagine she’s busy, caught up in all the details that come with building a wedding and a future. The group chat is still alive. Everyone is still excited. And me? I am cheering for her quietly, from a distance.
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