I blinked, then I’m here.

The last four years stare at me, knowing that all I have is now and what I make of it.

I treated ordinary days as something to get through. I waited for milestones, for a future when I am changed. But life was happening as I was counting the days to get there, to someone sure and brave.

Feeling and seeing time moving taught me that fulfillment and gratitude lie in paying attention to the present.

When I looked in the mirror, there was no teenage girl, but a young woman in her place. I saw time in the laughter traced into fine lines. My voice no longer rusts on my tongue, and there’s steadiness in my stride as I feel the faint aches of a body that never used to complain.

Fulfillment and gratitude come with recognizing that today is an extraordinary feat. I used to think that living well meant moving toward something else. The next big thing. The next version of myself. The next place, the next role.

I spent a lot of time chasing that feeling, waiting to be caught up with life that seemed just a little bit ahead of me.

But what I kept missing was already here.

The grandeur in the simplicity of ordinary days, in the privilege of bearing the heat of campus grounds, in historic architecture that have watched generations, in food crawls along P. Noval and Dapitan, only to inevitably come back to kutchay dumplings and fried noodles, in after hours with my friends, in debriefs and girl talk, in the insanity of stress and deadlines, in lectures where I can only nod in its truth, in the days when my heart sat a little heavier, and in the short stretch when I felt proud. One day became the next, and they were more than enough.

I spent so much time loving the idea of becoming that I forgot to love the work that makes it possible. There was a reminder that stuck with me: not to love the idea of publishing a book, but to love the idea of writing a sentence every day.

In the ambitious pursuit of becoming someone, I missed being present for the experience unfolding before me. I am still learning, but what it means to live well is to appreciate where I’ve been without dwelling on the past, to bravely look at what awaits me without losing sight of who I already am and what is here now, to find meaning in what repeats and what’s temporary, and to not escape the day by day, the building blocks of an unpredictable, yet fulfilling existence, because we’ll never get to experience today again.

The past does not exist, and the future is out of sight. Life can only be found in the present, and we must live well by being here.

In college, I stuck with my circle of friends, came out of my shell, and learned how to be loud and playful, full of wit. I made room for myself in conversations, I made peace with being seen. Through embarrassing bravery in the demands outside the classroom and in my studies, I found footing within myself.

For longer than I care to admit, I thought I was exceptional. Then I entered rooms filled with people who seemed to move through the world with greater ease and brilliance than I did, everyone was so capable beyond theirselves. I mistook admiration for evidence of my inadequacy, like a gnawing feeling of lack.

Being the youngest daughter in a large family, I was always a child looking up. I inherited a habit of my arm outstretched from the effort, so the tips of my fingers could graze the wisdom of adulthood, all before I had fully lived through youth. I grew tired of it and couldn’t bear the thought of being unchanged, deprived, and forever wanting more.

I worked and worried and faced reality. But with me, no achievement felt complete. In every passing day, I was convinced that fulfillment existed somewhere ahead of me, in the next milestone, after the spoils of success. I lived in tension, anticipating what I thought was more profound than my present.

But what I had been reaching for has always been in the life I am living as it is now. In being awake to my experiences, be it struggle, pain, or a glimmer of pride and joy, I found that it is noble to be flawed and unfinished, because so much of who we could be is made up of who we are now, in breathing, in thinking, and in doing, amid the turbulence of ourselves. We just have to make the most of the time we have in the days we overlook.

Yet, the present does not manifest from nothingness. It is built upon the sum of indecisions, mistakes, risks, losses, and breakthroughs. Every word written, every opportunity taken, every trial endured, and everyone in it made my here and now. I still think about the next big thing. I still make plans and look ahead. But I am learning not to rush into it by simply taking in what is before me.

Just like the past, the future is not a place of oblivion. It comes to fruition in this moment. We reap what we sow through the values we impart, what we do, and the people closest to us.

The University is where I grew into someone I trust through years of reinvention and through the people whose presence became pieces of my whole being. As I stand in my present, without certainty about where I’m stepping into next, I want to remain here for a while. I want to thank the people who made today possible, and for the fact that I get to exist and have this moment at all.

I am indebted to TomasinoWeb for granting me a home for my words. I feel deeply grateful to everyone in the family for allowing me to play a small part. I remain inspired by the lightyears of ingenuity from Eli and Liana, who met me with so much warmth and made sense of my thoughts. Thank you for trusting me.

I am proud to have shared bylines with Juliana, Anie, Donnel, Gela, Han, Bal, Ari, Kez, and Jai. Thank you for the privilege of writing alongside you. There are still stories to tell, and I can’t wait to read what only you can say. I am grateful to have grown into an editor with each and every one of you.

To the professors whom I came to admire, I take your lessons with me beyond the lecture halls. Thank you for the confidence you instilled and for the creativity and passion you nourished, which continue to sustain me.

My dear 4COM2, thank you for being your loud and true selves. Your energy never fails to make me feel loved and supported. Thank you for being an inspiration and for reminding me to remain curious, creative, and unafraid.

Aaren, Han, Chels, Mika, Melyn, Jake, Roma, Alec, and Yarra, my friends who kept me sane and colored my sad days without even knowing, you are the summation of everything fond I will look back on. I will keep you in the stories I tell about these years.

Ron and Ash, I always find myself searching for you in a crowd just to feel at ease. Many of my favorite memories exist simply because you were there. So much of me is made up of our time together since freshman year. How lucky I am that we met.

To my friends from grade school and high school who have been with me since I was 10 and well into our 20s, our silly 10 and 15-year-old selves look up at us in awe at who we have become. Thank you for giving me the time and space to grow, to change, to have fun, and to love. You will always be the home I return to.

I stand on the shoulders of my parents, who lift me to greater heights and raise me by their strength so I may see farther than I ever thought possible. There would not have been any of this without you. Thank you for the opportunity to spend four years at UST.

My college days were fleeting and underappreciated, but as I am today, everything is better in perspective. The unfamiliar places along España, Lacson, Dapitan, and P. Noval became routes I memorized, with friends keeping pace beside me. Their distance from home once felt like an inconvenience, but became something I would come to cherish. I’ll miss UST and the people who made my time here all the more worthwhile.

Four years came by quicker than the 24 hours in a day. Being so caught up in wanting something else, I missed the actuality of what is, without borrowing worry from the future and without the chokehold of the nostalgic past. If to live well means anything at all, it is to be present enough to love a life still lived. To my last taste of youth, thank you for bearing witness to the persistence and endurance it took to get here. For every ordinary day that turned out to be extraordinary in hindsight, thank you.

As I leave the campus grounds, I only wish for us to live well.