It is the year 2022. What was supposed to be a year-long state of national health emergency is now in its second year. The coronavirus cases have surged dramatically due to the new omicron variant. People are stocking up on paracetamol as they did with face masks and alcohol in 2020.
It looks like the city is not that bothered by the increase in cases, though. This time, there are no lockdown impositions. People who turned out positive with the virus, are no longer brought to a facility. Establishments, however, are stricter against unvaccinated people, which has sparked debates both locally and nationally. I have nothing against people who refuse to get vaccinated. Although, I do believe that the government should focus on intense vaccination education campaigns if it wants to change people's minds.
At home, we have our own tiny bit of emergency — Ambin caught a fever. Nothing serious, it might just be the weather. It is flu season, after all. It has been raining intermittently for days now, too. I was planning to go on a much-needed road trip with my husband; I went out to buy medicines for him instead. And would you believe that the drugstores I checked out were out of flu capsules? Right? Good thing, I have a few stashed from when I visited Watson's weeks ago. We might be able to ride this one out.
Anyway, I went through my google mail to free up some space when I stumbled upon old emails. Law school notes. Project collaborations. Apology letters from Ambin. Exchanges with wedding suppliers. Comment notifications from my phased-out blogs (I have probably created six blogs already since 2009!). Travel itinerary receipts. Thousands of messages with memories attached to them. I can honestly say that a significant amount of my past can be traced by simply scrolling down my digital footprints.
In one email, a classmate sent me photos from when we went around Cebu City's downtown to take pictures of movable and immovable properties for our Property course. I saw the people around me — my classmates who, at some point, I considered as friends — and funnily enough, had there been no email addresses attached, I would never have guessed their names. I smiled at the shoes I was wearing and remembered how I adored them. I hardly recognized myself. I was so young and dark—my face was so small. And to think I always saw myself as fat back then!
When I got to my emails from 2017, I clicked on a message I sent to myself. Attached to that email was a downloaded file of my old WordPress blog that I saved before deleting my site. I clicked the file and saw my writings from 2016. My heart broke when I read about my mental state five years ago. It was only a few entries, not even that specific, yet it brought many unwanted memories. I remembered the loneliness, despair, and hopelessness. I was only 25. I felt so sorry for myself that I wished I could travel back in time and hug my younger self tightly. I would tell her that there was nothing wrong with her and to hold on for it is only going to get better.
I successfully retrieved some of my old blog entries and merged them here. In hindsight, I am honestly glad I wrote about some of my old painful experiences because it made me more grateful for everything I have now. I remember I would delete my blog when things would get overwhelmingly rough. It was equivalent to running away, I-don't-want-you-to-see-how-I-am-actually-doing-so-I-am-going-to-get-rid-of-you sort of escape.
I can't help but think about far I have come. How much I have endured. This pandemic has definitely have me on a rollercoaster ride. Life is still hard but I am still fighting, writing. And I will continue to do so until it gets bored of me.
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