Some nights can really still find you in the middle of darkness and silence, do they? Some nights really find a way to make you feel something, like how sadness lingers into your bones more than anything. Some nights dig deep into the silent wounds you thought had healed, the scars you thought had stopped bleeding, the memories and dreams you thought were buried. Some nights have a way of making the past step forward, uninvited, and sit heavy in your chest, and burden your thoughts.

I wrote endlessly tonight, from the bottom of my heart. The silence is loud. It forces me to feel something — sorrow that sinks into your bones, that lingers longer than you expected, and that stays in your soul unannounced. I dance with the fear of a little girl I once was, trembling in the shadows of what I hoped I could become.

I had once already seen it coming. I had a glimpse of it before, a shadow at the edge of my awareness, like a quiet warning that it had already arrived. A presence I could feel but refused to name, hovering in the corners of my mind, patient and inevitable. And tonight, it fully came — unannounced and uninvited. It came without hesitation. It dawned on me in a way that left no room for denial. It revealed itself in the deepest, quietest hours of the night, when even the wind and the world had stopped moving, when silence became so loud it seemed to press against my chest.

The night itself seemed to hold its breath, as if the universe had paused to let me see it clearly, for the first time, unmasked and unashamed. Tonight, it showed itself fully, and I had no choice but to see it. It did not hide. It did not whisper. It simply existed, pressing against me, demanding recognition.

“Binangga ako ng isang first placer. Nginitian ko lang siya. Pangarap ko ‘yun eh.”
“Binangga ako ng isang author. Nginitian ko lang siya. Pangarap ko ‘yun eh.”
“Binangga ako ng isang journalist. Nginitian ko lang siya. Pangarap ko ‘yun eh.”
“Binangga ako ng isang psychologist. Nginitian ko lang siya. Pangarap ko ‘yun eh.”
“Binangga ako ng isang lawyer. Nginitian ko lang siya. Pangarap ko ‘yun eh.”

I thought I had already accepted myself, that I knew who I am and what I am worth. Then someone appeared — someone I had imagined myself being, someone I had dreamed of becoming. And all at once, I remembered myself and who I wanted to be.

Ironic enough that I once wrote before, in “To Those Who Didn't Get The Chance”, that yourself is not measured by trophies, medals, or certificates. But who am I to fool myself? I know very true to myself that it is indeed measured by trophies, medals, and certificates of who you are, what you are, and what you can be. I know now, with raw clarity, that the world does measure worth this way.

My scars stretch. My wounds itch. Memories flash like blood — dripping and flashing across the room. And the pain is stinging once again, as the ache stings sharper than I thought possible. And just when I think I have relieved it, the past claws its way back into me.

Once again, I thought I had relieved the pain of the past.

Some nights are like this — relentless, unyielding. They remind you that what you carry is not gone. It never leaves. It only waits, biding its time, until silence becomes a mirror. And when it finds you, you remember again. You remember again — the girl who dared to dream, the girl who held onto hope even when the world whispered otherwise, the girl who thought positively even when shadows stretched too long. You remember the girl who always stood in the background, who smiled quietly, who whispered into empty spaces, hoping, always hoping, to be seen.

And tonight, I feel her. I see her. I know her.

And at last…

Binangga ako, pero nginitian ko lang — pangarap ko ‘yun eh.

The Frontman