The Ruin Script

today is the 25th.
yesterday was my birthday.
i just turned twenty-one.

i had just finished my brunch and was holding my phone. as i placed my utensils in the sink, a message appeared—a familiar name. a message i never expected. she greeted me. and suddenly, tears fell, as if they had been held in my heart for years. they fell without my consent. i didn’t fully understand why ate maying’s simple “happy birthday, ron” made me cry. perhaps the way i read it carried so much weight that i almost lost my composure. it felt like the spirit i had long kept within me finally heard a familiar voice—an echo of who i used to be. the company i once kept.

unable to contain the tears, i went to the comfort room. i let them fall freely, as if finally released from a prison built over years. i admit, i miss the people i used to hang out with. i miss the environment. i could return, but courage fails me. fear grips me—afraid they might not accept me. i am haunted by my own choice to leave.

i went back to my room, replying to some messages. repetitive thank-yous. just like usual, i lay in bed, scrolling through social media, chatting with friends—lee baek nhe. it was an ordinary day; only difference was the “happy birthday” that appeared in my inbox.

evening came with cold weather. its breeze touched my skin, silent, gentle, like a quiet hug. i had wished for rain on my birthday, and it came. the familiar sound carried flashbacks. i smiled bitterly. a question surfaced—was ate maying’s message a sign to return? or a sign to embrace the path i chose and keep moving forward? i don’t know. i wonder.

later, my brother called me for dinner. at the table were papa, my brother, and sister; mama was not there. there was only rice, sinigang, and coca-cola. just a normal dinner we seldom shared. i prepared my meal. i had planned to eat with them, just for this day. but mama’s absence redirected my plan. i don’t know where she was at that time. so, as usual, i took my food and returned to my room. i ate alone.

no greetings from them, only silence. still, it’s enough.

i also gathered the courage to ask papa for a photo with me, and we did. at least i have something to look back on—and it’s enough. hours passed before the 24th finally ended. i engaged in random conversations, scrolled through tiktok, laughed at memes. everything online, yet my energy felt drained.

before i forgot, it was a happy birthday. cyrus messaged, “happy birthday, rona.” a simple message from him, but its meaning reached my heart. i dislike being called rona now, yet hearing it from him reminded me i am still me, a continuity of who i was before. thank you, cyrus.

when the clock struck 00:00, august 25, i prayed. i thanked god. i realized there is nothing wrong with welcoming the unusual in life. it’s okay to let my emotions be seen. it’s okay to smile. it’s okay to celebrate with those who truly care. it’s okay to loosen up, to not be too hard on myself.

it’s okay, aki.
it’s okay, rona.

what happened on the 24th will be a reminder that it is okay to embrace the unknown, to let vulnerability breathe. the proof that i exist. trying. seen. and finally, i would like to thank everyone who remembered and greeted me—it meant more than words could ever express.

you witness the raw, unfiltered fragments of my day.
this is my life. what i felt. what i survived.
this is the end of my monologue.

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author’s note:
— bled by @achilleusdeirdre
— 25th of august, year 2025
— open to criticism; all echoes welcome.
— lowercase intended for signature writing.