#soft rants

i don’t think people outside of roleplay spaces will ever understand what it’s like to spend years living through a character.

not days.

not weeks.

years.

long enough that their name starts feeling familiar. long enough that people associate you with them before they even know who you are. long enough that they become a permanent fixture in your daily life without you ever realizing it.

i think i started portraying that character around the pandemic years.

back when the world was slowing down.

back when everyone was locked inside their homes, trying to find comfort wherever they could.

while everyone was learning how to survive isolation, i found myself returning to a fictional person over and over again.

at first, it was just roleplay.

just writing.

just something to pass the time.

but somewhere between the endless replies, the storylines, the group chats, the late-night plotting sessions, and the years that followed, it became something more.

that character witnessed versions of me that no longer exist.

they existed during my lowest moments.

during the friendships i thought would last forever.

during heartbreaks i was convinced would destroy me.

during the nights i couldn’t sleep and found comfort in writing instead of thinking.

during the years when i was still trying to figure out who i was.

and somehow, no matter how much my life changed, they remained.

different timelines.

different roleplay groups.

different friends.

different accounts.

different versions of myself.

but always the same character.

always the same face.

always the same name.

looking back now, it feels strange.

because i can barely remember who i was before them.

for years, opening facebook meant stepping into that world.

it meant checking notifications.

replying to storylines.

interacting with people who knew me only through that portrayal.

it became routine.

it became comfort.

it became home.

and now i’m sitting here realizing that something which occupied such a huge portion of my life is finally ending.

not because i stopped loving it.

not because i hate it now.

but because i’ve simply reached the end of this chapter.

and somehow, that’s what hurts the most.

there was no grand finale.

no dramatic ending.

no final battle.

just time quietly moving forward while i wasn’t paying attention.

one day i looked around and realized that the years had passed.

the people changed.

the communities changed.

and so did i.

sometimes i scroll through old screenshots.

old interactions.

old stories.

old memories frozen in messages that haven’t been opened in years.

and i can’t help but think about the person i used to be.

the one who spent hours perfecting replies.

the one who stayed awake until sunrise because a storyline was too exciting to leave unfinished.

the one who believed those moments would last forever.

i miss her sometimes.

i miss the excitement.

i miss the familiarity.

i miss logging in and instantly knowing where i belonged.

because whether i admitted it or not, roleplay became a part of my identity.

and that character became a part of me.

that’s why saying goodbye feels so difficult.

because i’m not just saying goodbye to a fictional person.

i’m saying goodbye to years of memories attached to them.

i’m saying goodbye to the countless versions of myself that existed through that portrayal.

i’m saying goodbye to the girl who found comfort in escaping into stories when reality felt too heavy.

i’m saying goodbye to an era.

an entire era of my life.

people say they’re “just characters.”

maybe they’re right.

but i don’t think i’ll ever be able to see it that way.

because that character carried pieces of my life for so long.

they were there when i was happy.

they were there when i was grieving.

they were there when i felt lost.

they were there when i was becoming someone new.

and now, for the first time in years, i have to learn how to exist without them.

that’s what nobody tells you.

sometimes roleplay ends.

sometimes communities disappear.

sometimes people move on.

and sometimes you outgrow the stories that once saved you.

but that doesn’t mean they meant any less.

if anything, it means they mattered.

it means they were important enough to leave a mark.

so this is my goodbye.

not to a character.

not really.

it’s a goodbye to a chapter of my life that carried me through some of my most formative years.

a goodbye to the nights spent writing instead of sleeping.

to the friends i met along the way.

to the stories that made me laugh, cry, and stay up until dawn.

to the version of me that grew up behind a borrowed name.

i don’t know if i’ll ever completely let go.

maybe some part of me never will.

maybe years from now i’ll stumble across an old screenshot, an old profile, an old piece of writing, and feel that familiar ache in my chest.

the kind that only comes from missing something that once felt like home.

and maybe that’s okay.

some homes aren’t places.

some homes are stories.

and for a very long time, that story was mine.

thank you for carrying me through the years.

thank you for staying when so many things didn’t.

thank you for being the one constant in a life that changed over and over again.

i’ll miss you more than i can put into words.

seeing them all together again just confirms what i already knew.

it’s funny, really. the same people who claim they don’t care somehow always find the time to talk about us when we’re not around. the same people who act unbothered seem to be the most invested in our lives.

and honestly, it amazes me.

imagine being so affected by someone’s presence that you have to sit around discussing them just to feel better about yourselves. meanwhile, we’re over here minding our own business, living our lives, and somehow that’s still enough to make us a topic of conversation.

the truth is, people who have the most to say behind your back usually have the least courage to say it to your face. and that’s not my problem.

at this point, i don’t even feel angry. i just find it embarrassing. because if our presence bothers them that much despite us staying quiet and keeping to ourselves, then maybe we’re taking up more space in their minds than they ever will in ours.

keep talking, keep assuming, keep making stories. while you’re busy watching us, we’re busy living.

it’s funny how life gets quieter the moment you stop surrounding yourself with people who thrive on drama, hidden resentment, and constant noise disguised as “friendship.” back then, everything felt heavy — too many opinions, too many issues, too many people watching every move like our lives were some kind of entertainment for their group chats and dummy twitter accounts.

now? silence. peace. finally.

and honestly, it drives people crazier when they realize you’re not reacting anymore. they keep talking, keep making stories, keep lurking, keep throwing indirects into the void while me and my partner are literally just existing, working on our lives, handling our own businesses, and sleeping peacefully at night. 😭

there’s something so freeing about realizing not every accusation deserves a defense, not every rumor deserves your energy, and not every “friendship” deserves access to your life forever.

the funniest part is they probably expected chaos, public breakdowns, long explanations, or revenge arcs. instead they got two people who genuinely stopped caring.

and maybe that’s what healing actually looks like sometimes — not closure, not reconciliation, not proving yourself to anyone.

just peace.

just distance.

this month really said “character development arc” and then threw me into every possible situation at once. lost a lot of people i used to call “friends” — though honestly, some of them were never real to begin with. ang daming issue, ang daming naging kaaway, ang daming unnecessary drama that kept trying to pull me backwards. but if i’m being real? i don’t regret cutting people off. not even a little.

sometimes losing people is the only way you finally see who was silently draining you the entire time. and maybe this year taught me that not everyone deserves access to me, my energy, my peace, or the life i’m trying so hard to build.

right now, my focus is simple. work. myself. my partner. my family — if there’s still something left to call family. i don’t have the energy anymore to entertain fake connections, forced friendships, or people who only remember me when they need something. i’m too busy trying to survive, grow, heal, and become someone i can actually be proud of.

twenty-five feels strange in the best and worst ways possible. like standing in the middle of a storm and realizing you survived every version of yourself that was supposed to destroy you. every fake friend. every backhanded compliment. every “concern” that was really just jealousy dressed up in soft words. every person who only loved me when i was easier to control.

and honestly? good riddance.

i spent too much time trying to keep peace with people who secretly enjoyed watching me struggle. people who only checked on me when they wanted gossip. people who smiled in my face then turned my name into entertainment the second i left the room. it was exhausting carrying relationships that felt heavier than heartbreak itself.

but turning 25 changed something in me.

i’m not chasing closure anymore. i’m not begging people to understand me. i’m not shrinking myself just to fit inside circles that never respected me in the first place. this year feels different. quieter. sharper. more intentional. like i finally realized not everyone deserves access to me just because they knew an older version of me.

it’s been a wild ride getting here. messy decisions, painful lessons, burned bridges, identity crises at 2am, crying over people who were never worth the tears, rebuilding myself over and over again. but somehow, through all of that, i still made it here.

still standing. still loving hard. still dreaming bigger.

and now? i’m locking in.

locking in on my future. my peace. my relationship. my family. my goals. my career. my happiness. i don’t have the energy anymore for fake loyalty and recycled negativity. if your presence feels draining, disrespectful, or performative, you can stay exactly where i left you.

25 isn’t about proving myself to anyone anymore. it’s about finally choosing myself without guilt.

maybe this makes me the villain in your story, and honestly? i’ve already accepted that.

i know what i did was wrong. i’m not running from it, and i’m not pretending i’m innocent just to make other people comfortable. accountability is one thing, but forcing myself to sit through everyone’s resentment, anger, and endless opinions about my life is another. and i’m done carrying that weight for people who were never really there for me in the first place.

the truth is, i don’t owe anyone a full explanation anymore. not every chapter deserves a public statement. not every wound deserves access to me. and not every person who got hurt automatically deserves a permanent seat in my life.

i have no interest in fixing things with people who only ever brought chaos, judgment, exhaustion, and negativity into my life. i genuinely do not have the time or energy for it anymore. i’m too busy trying to build something real for myself — a life that finally feels like mine, a future i actually want to wake up to, a peace i had to fight for alone.

at this point, the only people i truly care about are myself, my partner, my family, and the life we’re trying to create away from all the unnecessary noise. everyone else can keep talking if they want to. they can stay angry, bitter, disappointed, whatever helps them sleep at night. it changes absolutely nothing for me anymore.