Solitude

Fri, August 15
What’s your usual wake-up time like? My roommate and I are super close, but my morning officially begins the second she leaves to unleash her extroversion. Some days I meditate in bed, some days I sit cross-legged with a blindfold on. Once in a while I go for long walks. Other times, I just lose myself in rain videos.

Since I’m in no rush to end my solo time, I’ve settled in with The Stand, munching on free toast and slowly enjoying my lemon-mandarin tea. Gifted by none other than my lovely roommate. 💝

Sat, August 16
I’m right here by the window, watching the rain slip down the neighbor’s mango tree. Sometimes I wish there were more trees around, or that I lived out in the countryside. But I’m happy with what I have now. Went up on the roof deck for a bit, and oh man, the cold rain hitting my skin is everything. Makes me wonder what it’d be like to have a backyard where you could just run and run. If I ever ended up with one, I’d keep running like Naruto, arms stretched back, leaning forward. I might tumble in the heavy rain, but I’d just flop in the mud like a fish hehe.

So yeah

Any time I sit down to eat, breakfast or lunch, I end up watching these videos of people just walking around in the rain. I guess you could say I’m a pluviophile, or an ombrophile, if sounding posh with words is your thing. I don’t bother with that.

The rain’s out there, and I just write and write, as though the words are a bridge from the past to this moment. Every word is me walking across it like a long-lost lover meeting her first love all over again.

Wait, let’s just take that out real quick. I’m just here, writing while rain falls across the screen.

 

 

Who needs ghosts when you have my sister lurking?

So somehow I got pulled into watching Stephen King’s Rose Red yesterday. Halfway through, my little sister flicks the lights off to scare me. Can you believe it? We both just lost it laughing. She has no clue I’m bingeing The Tommyknockers and Storm of the Century tonight, and sneaking bites of my BBQ chips on the side. Shhh.

☔

When I think back on everything I scribbled down, I can’t tell if I feel awkward or just laugh that I even thought of it. Lately-ish, I’ve been feeling a bit different about it, like I’m slowly moving away. I guess it’s that feeling of letting go of the old. Sort of like a caterpillar, not quite a butterfly yet, but you can kinda feel it changing more than see it. All that scribbling was me figuring things out as I went. I have no clue what’s coming, and really, I don’t want to know. I like to just wing it and see what happens.

But then, out of nowhere, someone showed up like a surprise rainbow. 

Monday + Tuesday

Monday — Lofi Beats on a Partly Sunny Afternoon

Have you ever thought about writing your own novel?

I was lost in thought when my cheese bread rolled onto my black shirt, and I straight away pictured a sticky mess. Oh well, I just smiled like I planned it all along. It’s partly sunny today. The perfect mood for lofi beats and some ice-cold coffee, and the fan’s right in my face because, well, it’s a hot day. Now, where was I with that question?

Tuesday — The Tortoise and the Hare

To my ever-playful sister,

I’m sorry I didn’t help you at all with your skeletal system quiz and wasn’t very patient when we tackled your A.P. It’s not your fault though, I’m just more drawn to math. But now I get that helping you matters more than how much I like the subject, and that’s what being the ‘older and wiser’ sister means, you know, putting you first.

 

Wait, rewind that, did I really just say wiser? Between you and me, you’re racing ahead like the hare, and I’m just the tortoise, rocking the slow life.

The Quiet Ones

Watching silent vlogs is like leaning over a mug of fresh coffee, and just breathing it in. That nice, slow space where you could sit for hours, not because time is passing slowly, but because I’ve forgotten there’s such a thing as time at all.

I keep thinking one day I’ll be like the quiet ones I really feel connected to. The type who like to just walk around, zigzagging through the streets, hopping from one coffee or tea spot to another, and chill with a book or scribble down some random thoughts, as the day fizzes and sparkles like cold Coca-Cola on a hot afternoon.

The Friend and the Falling Rain

Dear Friend,

On a rain-soaked bench,
drops hop and land on my lips.
Though I wear my favorite raincoat,
the raindrops still cling to my hands,
as though the earth shares a secret handshake,
for those who pause, who feel
the subtle, cold kiss of air.

And in moments like these,
I remember to inhale the fragrance—

Lost in the hustle,
I forgot my home isn’t a science lab on Mars,
but a vibrant Earth,
exhaling life.

Seeing you write
felt like a wink
between friends
on a rainy day.

 
 
 
(Just one of the many musings the rain has inspired.)

A Page from a Secret Diary

My dear interlocutor, may I sit here by your side and spin you a metaphorical tale?

It all began that day…

There you were, bathed in the soft morning light that found you through the open window.

The wind teased your hair, carrying scents of rain and earth.

Around you, the cheerful chatter of birds filled the air,

blending softly with those who wander and sway.

In this warm, hushed glow, you quietly hold the moment, and I melt into your shadow.

Call it what you will, poetry, prose, or simply a love letter.

Dear Friend (6)

Unplanned Rain
I ended up taking a full-on rain shower on the roof deck today. Moments later, I was having the time of my life, flinging water left and right with a tired old dustpan, just trying to stop the flood from turning the stairs into a slip-and-slide. Before I forget, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your journal entries, especially the one where you described running barefoot in the rain. You made it sound like running away from homework. Now I just hope my little sister doesn’t read this and get ideas hahaha.

 

An Unplanned Pause Where Only the Heart Listens
I didn’t expect violin music to heal me today, but it did. Paganini’s Finale, Mozart’s Adagio K261, and Sarasate’s Caprice Basque. Listened once, then again, then again. And somehow, it washed over me, like standing in the rain and realizing I don’t want to run for cover. Do you like the sound of the violin? Have you ever, perhaps, fallen in love with a solo? I fell completely to Vivaldi’s Presto from Le quattro stagioni, and somehow, I never quite recovered.

 

I’ll write to you next time!

Dear Friend (4)

Last night, my roommate and I couldn’t stop laughing like little kids. We shared a cup of ‘Why did we buy this?’ tea and desperately tried not to gag, but let’s just say it felt like we were sipping what Socrates drank, only without the dying part. And blimey! As if we needed another trust issue on the table, she brought out heart-shaped biscuits so bland, I flashed back to eating paper in kindergarten!

 

I wonder if someone ever shared your space and, without saying it, became your favorite. One person emotionally trademarked that title for me, even though we're polar opposites like coffee and sleep.

 

Nighty night, my friend.

Dear Friend (3)

Around Breakfast Time
Since it’s sunny out, I leaned in, opened my laptop, and turned on the sound of rain. Something about this feels like lighting incense before I even sit cross-legged. With the rain sounds on, everything else just quiets down except for the toast. I’m just sitting here, munching slow.

 

 

In the Heat of the Day
Earlier, I squeezed a glass of calamansi juice while my roommate went all in with a pitcher of four seasons. I’m sitting at my study table, swirling the glass, enjoying the soft clicks of the ice cubes inside. It’s a quiet habit that never grows old.

 

 

Another Day Folded into the Dark
Just showered again and let myself stay cold. Is this what being a penguin feels like?

Dear Friend
You always have your notebook.
You’re always writing,
like it’s how you make sense of things.

A doctor of words,
with a well-loved notebook.

I tried it today, writing my day out.
Kinda messed it up, but I liked messing it up.

You’re the writer.
I’m the dabbler.

Dear Friend (2)

I sometimes wonder if I only exist in the rain. It’s strange, but I feel most alive when it rains, and outside of it, I slip away like I was never real to begin with. I try to find it in the sunlight, but it never feels the same. What comes up in you when the rain begins to fall?

 

P.S. I’ve saved your letters for breakfast. After that, I treat myself to some good old-fashioned equations. Oh, and I might be writing a novel too.