Welcome to my writing page! The colors and tags are pretty straightforward:
BLUE : Glimpses of my life.
RED : Trigger-heavy topics.
Occasionally, I may overshare, but I often take down entries, so expect some entries to disappear and reappear. Enjoy your visit!
incase anyone cares
ch3sca@proton.me
I enjoy receiving messages!
Theme: Friendship Renewal!!
What I’ve learned: Being able to articulate my feelings isn’t the same as actually feeling them. While thinking is important for analysis, I’ve realized how much I’ve relied on my thoughts for emotional and mental stimulation. Life is often absurd and doesn’t always have to make sense. So wanna stop thinking and start feeling.
January Highlights:
While I waited two long weeks for my grades, I tinkered with my website and plotted out lunch dates with my highschool besties. I’m happy to hear that most of them are either pregnant or have received promotions at work. But I can’t help feeling pressured because here I am, still figuring out life while watching my savings dwindle.
God, if You exist and are listening, please let me graduate in March! I promise I won’t decline another church invite! I’ll be a good girl and believe You are real. I promise to hang out with my Christian friends and won’t avoid them! (but I'm not saying I will get baptized, that is a different deal) But if I don’t graduate, it's fine. Other people’s wishes seem more important. Others are dying, and there are countries that are at war. Go prioritize them1! Or maybe You’re not real??? Am I really just talking to teh voiddd
I practiced cooking this month but burned four meals in a row, how the fuck did pira make it seem easy on his blogs? On a bright side, I’ve been discovering some pretty great pop indie music lately and have found joy in dancing around my room. I learned a few cool things about terminologies i never heard before, PGP encryption and how Brainpass works from wali, and I got inspired to make my own, but it was rather difficult for my goldfish brain (but I'm not giving up!!). I attended a few library meet-ups with Xena and Mylen, which were very fun and productive.
Every midnight, my brother always brings me midnight snacks. He knows very well that I am still awake and hand-coding garbage. I keep telling him, "I love you, I love you," but he says, "Fuck you," while handing me my favorite spicy fried ramen. AAAA, I love him so much! Isn't he so mean and cute? I spent a lot of time with my family.
I watched a few MVs from new K-pop groups since some of my girlfriends love them, and I love my friends. So I can understand the lore and hold long conversations with them. I also watched some cartoon series, like Hazbin Hotel, that Paps recommended. I always watch the films he suggests as a way to show that I appreciate him. He is a very kind sunbae (senior) who always looks after me and saves my ass whenever I'm in trouble at university.
I got in touch with my friends from an online game and felt so jealous when I found out that most of them are moving places, living closer together, and hanging out in person! They invited me to relocate, but as much as I want to live with them, I have a different plan for my life. Plus, since they are in their late 30s, they are stable and want to settle down and chill. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to find my way in my early 20s, so I shouldn't be jealous of their life!!!
I also caught up with my best friend, Je. We only talk at least once a year to remind each other about our time capsule, ask how each other is doing, and remind me about 2030. When we were 15, we promised each other that we would meet and do something in 2030 (but I forgot what it is, and he won't tell me). He’s still the same, a business-minded dude who vapes.
While I have all the free time in the world (which is very rare), instead of getting anxious about the uncertainty of my life right now, given my declining personal finances, along with the recent earthquakes, typhoons, and political instability that have hit my beloved country, I will make the best of this dystopia by spending time with the people I love and care about before life drifts me away far from them again.
But there's a bad man in everyone, no matter who we are
There's a rapist and a Nazi living in our tiny hearts
Child pornographers and cannibals and politicians too
There's someone in your head waiting to fucking strangle you
- AJJ - People II: The Reckoning
While the lyrics may not ring true for everyone, when I first heard that song years ago (still having LSS until now), it was cathartic. It called me out and articulated the filthy sides of myself that I struggled to recognize. For the first time, it forced me to confront the duality within me, the darkness beneath or perhaps alongside my capacity for goodness.
Before becoming a clown, two phases of false enlightenment shaped my journey. First, I subscribed to strict religious practices and indulged in reading many religious texts, all while enjoying the act of condemning those I deemed "less enlightened." In other words, I had a black-and-white mentality, categorizing humans into binary boxes of Good and Evil. Then, I explored spirituality, I tried paganism, practiced Buddhism, and ultimately settled on New Age spirituality, where God was casually referred to as "the Universe."
While I had become a less terrible version of myself by being selfless and helping others in my community, this turned into another type of ego inflation stemming from the sense of being needed and relevant. Eventually, I became self-serving and self-righteous, leading a life marked by introversion and delusional moral superiority.
Have you ever cursed someone? I went through a two-year phase as a mischievous Wiccan and had fun cursing people I hated and putting love spells on people I liked. Life was easy. Unsurprisingly, karma came back at me threefold, leaving its mark in some ugly ways. Looking back, that was stupid, but I was curious about the consequences of my actions.
I struggle to become a truly bad person, but I’m flexible enough not to be completely good either. God feels like a drug to me, a coping mechanism I use when it’s convenient. I sometimes curse or call His name but never really asked for help. I’ve always believed I am self-sufficient, either out of pride or feeling unworthy of His grace. No matter how much I try to believe in Him, He feels just as real to me as Santa Claus.
They say that people with no religious compass are apathetic and mean. Am I an apathetic person? A part of me thinks yes, I might really be apathetic. Maybe I'm just getting good at saying what people want to hear, based on my mental notes about their personalities and years of people-pleasing. Having been performative for so long, I struggle to know when I’m being genuine, making it hard to form real, deep connections. I’m trying to be sincerely kind and helpful, but that rotten part of me keeps strangling me, reminding me that it’s all just a facade. You're just deceiving everyone.
Here's to you Mr. Robinson, do I truly care about you, or do I just enjoy your praise?
Do you really love me, or have I just tricked you into loving me?
I was booking a flight this year to meet my internet friends in Caloocan, and I am just excited. This got me thinking on my experiences with meeting up internet friends. Honestly, I feel most alive when meeting new people. We share wonderful evenings filled with laughter and late-night adventures. I've been lucky tho I still haven’t encountered a serial killer yet.
You know that feeling at the end of the meet up when you’re at the airport, and everyone is crying because it’s time to say goodbye? They say it's called sepanx?? Those tears capture everything, all the memories and that little spark we had. If there’s ever a sequel, what would my tears even mean? It would feel pointless since we would see each other again anyway.
Sometimes, it freaks me out a bit when friends say, “I’m so happy to be friends with you. You make me so happy.” blablabla, I can't help but wonder, “What if I stop making you happy or I stop being funny? What if I let you down and you end up hating me?” That thought can be frightening.
That's why I treat friendship as more of an experience than an attachment. We’ve shared moments that feel like they should have an ending. Not every good movie needs a sequel. I understand that my mindset might be a bit jaded, but here's the thing, if we’re still connected after that initial spark in our first meet up, I worry we won't be able to replicate that amazing experience again. I’d rather be that special guest who appears in a brief chapter of someone’s life instead of a side character lingering throughout the entire book. Or maybe I'm just being self-centered. Or my avoidant-dismissive attachment style takes over sometimes.
Life is beautiful and precious because of its fleeting nature. Just as death gives weight to life, ending a connection adds meaning to those lovely moments we share. No movie needs a sequel if it has already given us everything it’s got. So I’m happy to finally meet my online friends, yet I just hope we don't meet again. I feel like I'm going to close another chapter in my book. Why am I like this, why do i romantasize endings, death, closure, sunsets and so on...but like, what’s the point in holding on?
College is almost over, and my friends and I are finally signing off from our "part-time" jobs that have helped cover our tuition while still allowing us to have a life. University is expensive, and I’m too shy (or maybe too arrogant) to accept help from my family. So, my friends and I have been hunting for scholarships and easy cash. We don’t like applying for regular jobs because they overwork us and underpay. And student loans aren’t an option where we live.
Some of my friends applied to be OnlyFans chatters, but they said it was pretty awful. They have to spend eight hours a day sexting with men, sweet-talking them into buying the models' nude pics, all while constantly getting flashed different shapes of penises. But the good news is it pays exceptionally well (five times the minimum wage).
I didn’t apply to be a chatter. Unfortunately, I couldn't handle seeing schlongs every day. Instead, I sometimes disturb my friends at work. I feel bad watching men get emotionally entangled with the models, unaware that they’re really chatting with five silly girls hustling from a tiny boarding house. As for the models, I just respect their hustle? I feel like if I were skinny and had bigger boobs, I’d probably be tempted to start an OnlyFans account.
Some of my friends have taken on even more unconventional jobs, like selling sex toys online. I never joined them, but most of the time, they just ask for my opinions on products. This all started from that one stupid night when I got very drunk and accidentally sent a photo of my collection of pink bullet vibrators to a class group chat instead of to a friend.
I genuinely thought I would be branded a "pervert" for life, but everyone mistook me for a "radical feminist." The next morning when I went to school, my classmates greeted me with high-fives, saying how cool and empowering I was. They couldn’t stop yapping about sexual liberation and all that taboo stuff.
Why do my friends continue to overestimate my character instead of seeing me at face value as a degenerate?
After that, women started consistently asking me about toy reviews and which vibrator shapes were more pleasurable than others. I wanted the ground to SWALLOW ME ALIVE. I think I accidentally inspired them to be perverts. Eventually, I decided enough was enough. Self-exploration was just a phase. I threw all of my toys away and committed to celibacy for a change. I went from practicing Paganism to Buddhism. (they have opposite views on self‑pleasure)
I'm fortunate to have received both internal and external scholarships, as well as a monthly allowance from a multibillion corporation through their CSR program. This means I don’t necessarily need to work while studying. Plus, I have a job lined up with the company after graduation. Since all my friends are working, though, I think it makes sense to join them and add some experience to my resume.
However, I found myself working on questionable jobs. I worked as a bookkeeper, but most of the time, I just did what clients asked of me. I appreciate how my mentors and employers gently orient me regarding shady practices. I reassured them that I could be trusted, knowing that part of being an accountant involves making the illegal aspects of the business appear legal and ensuring the clients i work with pays the lowest amount of tax, even if it means adding a few zeros to their expenses. am I even allowed to say this? Everyone seems to do it anyway.
I also worked part-time as an audit associate, which gave me an excuse to wear my high heels and pretentious business attire. I think the main reason I'm delaying my graduation is that I keep having a moral crisis about what I do. Is this really what I want to do for the rest of my life? This used to be my dream job, but now that I'm here, it seems unfulfilling. I hate how life reminds me that I’m not necessarily a good person, rather, I’ve just lacked the opportunity to do worse things.
Clearly, I'm a big hypocrite, influenced by hustle culture, grabbing multiple jobs and treating school like a side hobby. And what did that lead to? A year-long burnout I'm still recovering from. I was extremely unwell. Dumb ways to die. Whatever the case, we all managed to afford laptops and iPads to efficiently work on our theses and other school works, and we were all happy that we could buy expensive coffees.
My friends and I recently realized that, although the jobs we've applied for offer high pay, they lack a sense of fulfillment and pride. We’re determined to avoid living as hypocrites, so we made a promise, after graduation, we won’t pursue any unethical jobs. This way, we can go home at night knowing we’ve upheld our values and can finally get a good night’s sleep with a clear conscience.
Recently, I was asked, "What is your attachment style?" My initial thought was that I had to memorize yet another label to categorize myself. I remember when I first discovered my zodiac sign, it’s often the go-to question when people want to know more about you. Eventually, I memorized my entire birth chart because some would ask about my moon sign or rising sign. Then, there’s pronouns. My safest answer has often been, “I am straight,” but I don’t know. Imagine telling people you’re bi or pansexual while having zero romantic experiences. It's synonymous with telling people you are so undesirable that no one of any gender is choosing you.
In response to the question about my attachment style, I turned it back to her: “What do you think my attachment style is?” She said it was similar to that of a cat. I felt offended. I have been with my cat, and she is the most annoying being to love. Having cats has taught me that they can be incredibly demanding yet utterly indifferent. When I try to cuddle, she often gets pissed off and runs away. However, when I'm busy, she decides that's the perfect time to plop down right in front of me, demanding my attention with the attitude of, “Worship me now!”
It’s amusing (yet infuriating) how she seems to sense when I’m feeling down, cozily curling up in my lap for hours. However, the moment I feel better and try to pet her, she reverts back to her "bitch mode." My cat often avoids me but is very possessive, getting jealous if I interact with other cats. Whenever she craves attention, she bites me. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I find that I sound like I’m describing my own behavior in how I’ve treated friends and the men I briefly dated. I resort to biting their shoulders whenever i feel neglected. And may I add, my cat is very affectionate and needy only during her heat cycles, just as I am when I am ovulating.
Reflecting on this, I don’t like the way I act. People may find it endearing at first, but eventually, they’ll get tired of putting up with it. I was thinking about how I can change. And I found myself writing love letters and sweet messages to everyone so they know I truly care about them. Unfortunately, most of their replies were, "Are you planning to disappear again?" AAAAA
I took two attachment style tests, and both results say "Avoidant/Dismissive." I haven't dug into what it means, but just by the sound of it, it feels like I'm a horrible person to be with.
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While pondering, I remembered I wrote this emotionally charged where I was ranting and intellectualizing about how everyone was ignoring me. I confronted them about it. It turns out they actually did not ignore me, they just happened to be asleep while I chatted with them only at midnight and assumed everyone was awake. After feeling ignored for a few hours, I got mad at them. I thought they had ignored me for weeks, but then they pointed out my last reply was "okay, noted," which was actually non-replyable and not a great conversation starter. I told them I always check in on them every day, and they responded by saying that they had no way of knowing that when I just viewed their story and never really reached out. AAAAAA! I'M SO EMBARRASSED! It was my fault all along. I WAS OVERREACTING AND OVERTHINKING. I want to stick my head underground and ignore everyone again.
April 14, 2025
I’ve been spring-cleaning my social life. Unfollowing acquaintances. Muting people I used to check in on every day. I suddenly had clarity. Turns out, most of those connections only existed because I kept them alive. I was the one reaching out, checking in, sending memes at 3AM, being the emotional charger. The second I unplugged? Silence.
I understand that people are busy. Life is overwhelming, and time is scarce. I get that. But if I can make the effort, then perhaps others could too. Or perhaps they simply do not want to. Self-help literature advises not to take such things personally, framing it as a “them” problem, not a “me” problem. Theoretically, I agree. In practice, it still stings to realize that some people only appreciate you when you are convenient, cheerful, and easy to manage.
The pain is almost imperceptible. Realizing nobody checks in when you go silent. Noticing how how they ignore your messages for weeks but double-tap your stories like that makes up for the ghosting. Like, thanks for the emotional crumbs, I guess?
Sometimes it feels like the bond only exists when I keep showing up. I reach out? We laugh, we connect. I don’t? Suddenly, we’re strangers with memories. Some friendships are so one-sided, I could’ve sworn I was texting a wall with a profile picture. And yes, maybe I overacting. Maybe I take things too personally. But how do you not take it personally when you’re always the one reaching out, and people only love you when you’re curated and filtered and fun? The moment you show up flawed, weird, or even just quiet… they back away like you're a glitch in the system.
I’m learning now, not everyone deserves a pedestal. Not everyone needs to be defended when the energy isn’t mutual. And no, I don’t want performative connections. I don’t want people who only remember I exist when I post something funny or vaguely sad. I want people who show up even when there’s no audience.
Is it a me problem? Possibly. Yet it seems reasonable to want to feel chosen, to want reciprocity without shame. Love, even in its platonic form, should demand mutuality and not martyrdom. So now, I’m pulling back, not out of bitterness, but out of self-respect. I’m not burning bridges. I’m just not begging people to cross them anymore. I am not hard to love. I'm just tired of being the only one trying.
With my exams approaching, I felt the stress mounting, so I logged back into online games that I swore I wouldn't play for good. What I didn’t expect was to find myself in a series of fights with my two online friends. Usually, after late-night gaming, we would hop on a voice call to chat about life. Most of those conversations were them venting about how much they hate the world, either because of work, politics, or largely the pain their ex-wives had caused them.
We’ve been friends for almost two years now, and it’s crazy to think back on how it all started. We all lied about our age, and for about six months, they thought I was older than them. Eventually, the truth came out- they were 32 and 35 while I was only 21 (2 yrs ago). I thought the truth would make us closer, but now it just led to petty arguments.
Last night, they were back at it, ranting about their broken marriages and making sweeping generalizations about how all women are cruel based on their own experiences. I tried to inject some positivity into the conversation and urged them not to give up on romance, insisting that not all women are out to hurt them. That’s when they snapped back, claiming I was too young and inexperienced to truly understand their feelings. Each time they brought up my age, I felt angry. I hated being treated like a naive kid. Whenever I tried to share something uplifting, they would shoot back with pessimistic views, accusing me of being too idealistic and knowing nothing!
So I retorted that they were just a bunch of stupid old men who never opened their minds to positive things because their frontal lobes were very stubborn. I immediately regretted saying those words to them. Perhaps because they each had a bottle of beer while in-game, we all ended up crying. I don’t like getting involved in gender stereotype debates or political discussions, old folks would anyway think I’m too young to be taken seriously or to even have an opinion. Plus, I cry easily when people raise their voices at me.
I should be hitting the books right now, yet here I am, playing video games and crying with these stubborn old men. poor Daddies.
Before starting university, I set myself a personal goal, to experience the best college life ever! So, I listed 100 things I was determined to do to make my four five year stay unforgettable...
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☐ 42. Have my first kiss pathetic... WHEEEEEN
☐ 43. Get a boyfriend
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☐ 76. Fall in love
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☐ 99. Pass my pre-review course iPLEASEEE
☐ 100. Graduate!
I’ve only got a few things left on my bucket list. If I’m feeling crazy enough, maybe before graduation I’ll just go for it, grab and kiss a random guy and hope I don’t completely forget how to breathe. I might end up with a restraining order or be asked for my number, but either way… I’m finishing this list.
I’ve always been fascinated with death almost as much as life. The difference is that life happens while I’m alive, so I can poke at it and taste it, whereas death is the one experience I can only flirt with from a distance. I am not depressed, but deranged maybe? There used to be phases in my life that the idea of being dead is arousing, it turns me on. And I kept on thinking what kind of mind fuck is this.
Naturally, I traced it back to childhood, because that is where humanity often blames their issues. I remember being around eight, having my first existential crisis. I tried to confide in my religious parents, and they responded with bible scripture which did not help. The more I tried to make sense of things, the more I ended up with even more questions, until existence itself felt suffocating. So I wrapped my little hands around my throat, slowly tightening my grip until no air can get through. I choked my self to death, except I did not die. Rather, I found comfort in it, the questions and voices in my head quickly faded. Sometimes, when my brain got persistently loud, I would bang my head against a wall to drown the thoughts out. It worked. So I assumed this was normal. Surely other people experience this too and this is a way to deal it.
Then I turned twelve. My seatmate saw me hurting myself during break and ratted me out to my parents. My mom got furious and told me to never do it again as if it would automatically stop me. Naturally, I just got better at doing it privately.
Fast‑forward to high school. Life became eventful but repetative that needed better plot twists, so the idea of death started feeling fresh and exciting. So I tried cutting myself, I had mixed feelings, horrified by the sight of blood but aroused by its metallic taste. And I can’t distinguish the two feelings, because whether I’m scared or enthralled, my heart is beating fast as fuck either way.
After that, my death fantasies got out of control. Eventually, my passiveness turned into actions. One time I overdosed on antidepressant supplements (definitely not depressed) my heart was speed pumping while my lungs were dying for some air. Then I collapsed. Out of all my failed attempts, that was the most comedic because I woke up later with a horrible diarrhea. And every time the adrenaline faded, I would get that bizarre post‑nut clarity and think, “Oh yeah. I definitely need therapy.”