Peping's Personal Blog

To all he boys I loved before... Marvin and Martin (The Twins) - My First LDR Heartbreak 💔   It was a time when the world seemed to shrink, and distances were bridged by the click of a button. I was a 16-year-old high school student, navigating the complexities of adolescence when Marvin entered my life through the digital realm of Yahoo Messenger. Marvin, a fellow 16-year-old Filipino residing in California, USA, appeared on my screen like a breath of fresh air. With his cute, chubby stature and tall frame, he bore a striking resemblance to the teen version of Chow Yun-Fat. What intrigued me even more was the fact that Marvin had an identical twin brother named Martin, adding a layer of mystery to his persona.   As our conversations unfolded, I found myself drawn to Marvin's sincerity and sweetness. It was a different kind of connection, one that transcended the boundaries of physical proximity. Marvin confessed his love for me, and in that moment, my heart fluttered

A Trip Down Memory Lane: The TECS Alumni Reunion   On the memorable day of June 29, 2024, a significant event unfolded at TECS that marked a special milestone - the first TECS alumni reunion. The day commenced with a vibrant parade from Tayabas church to the familiar grounds of TECS, evoking a sense of nostalgia and excitement among all the attendees. As I stood on the humble ground of my elementary school after more than 25 years, waves of memories and emotions flooded my mind.   This was where it all began - my journey filled with hopes, dreams, and the company of familiar faces that had once filled every corner of my eyes. What struck me the most was the blend of familiarity and change that enveloped the atmosphere. Despite the new buildings and classrooms that now stood proudly, the majestic Narra tree at the corner of the entrance gate remained a steadfast symbol of the school's history. The scent of freshly watered plants, the unchanging humble canteen, the famili

My Acne Journey: A Reflection on Beauty Standards   The first pimple appeared on my nose like an unwelcome guest, a tiny red dot on the otherwise smooth canvas of my youthful face. It was a harbinger of things to come, a cruel joke played by my hormones and genes. What began as a few scattered blemishes soon escalated into a full-blown acne journey, a relentless battle against a foe that seemed to know my vulnerabilities better than I did.   It was always the worst at the most inconvenient times. It always appears when you are in your teenage years, the most sensitive and vulnerable phase of life. My skin became a barometer of my emotional state, flaring up with every surge of insecurity, every pang of self-doubt. It was a vicious cycle: acne made me feel insecure, and insecurity made the acne worse.   I remember staring enviously at boys with flawless complexions, those who effortlessly glided through life, untouched by the torment of breakouts. They were the "chosen

The Dream of a Divided Land: A Personal Reflection on a Nightmarish Vision   The night's embrace was shattered by a visceral dream, a tapestry woven from the threads of conflict and fear. It wasn't a dream of abstract violence, but a deeply personal experience, a haunting echo of the ongoing conflict between Israel and Palestine. The dream, raw and unsettling, left me grappling with its complexities and the profound emotions it evoked.   The dream unfolded in a fragmented landscape, a mosaic of despair and resilience. I found myself navigating a war-torn cityscape, the air thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the echoes of distant explosions. The streets were deserted, save for the occasional figure huddled in fear, their faces etched with the pain of displacement and loss.   The first scene unfolded in a dilapidated building, a refuge for Palestinian survivors. It was a sanctuary, a fragile haven amidst the chaos. The building itself was a testament to the confl

A Dream of Ambition, Success, and Unexpected Truths   The corrected version of the text is as follows:   The dream began in a whirlwind of ambition and pressure. I found myself sitting in a vast, high-rise office, a scene reminiscent of the bustling, cutthroat world of the movie "Wall Street." The air thrummed with palpable energy, a symphony of ambition and competition. Hundreds of men, a blend of American and Asian faces, all clad in crisp suits and ties, were locked in a silent battle for success. The room felt like a stage, the air thick with the scent of power and expectation.   My task was simple: sales and the stock market. But the competition was fierce, each man a formidable force in his own right. We were all vying for the same prize, the coveted recognition of being among the top performers. My close friend, whose name I couldn't recall in the dream, sat beside me. His name was called first, and I was genuinely happy for him. He deserved it. We high

The Elephant in the Room: A Dream of Escape   The dream started innocently enough. I was in a classroom, not unlike the one I attended as a child. But this classroom was filled with a strange, unsettling tension. In the center, a young boy named Oliver sat huddled with a group of adults, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. The adults were frantically frying something, the aroma of sizzling fat filling the air. "The smell will attract them."   I looked around, searching for the source of their fear. Then I saw them – a man huddled outside the classroom doors, his eyes gleaming with hunger. He was not alone. They were desperate, their faces gaunt and their bodies thin. They were the "hungry people," the adults had called them.   As the adults finished frying. They killed the parents and steal their food, their faces twisted with a primal hunger, and then proceeded to fry his parents body instead. Oliver, still alive, watched in horror as

The Day I Saw a Ghost   The air hung heavy with the scent of history, the kind that clings to old stone walls and whispers stories of forgotten lives. It was a sweltering summer day, the kind that makes the city feel like a furnace, but inside the dungeon, a cool breeze whispered through the cracked stone walls. We were there as part of a history class requirement, a group of college students venturing into the bowels of a forgotten past.   The dungeon, located near the Pasig River,in Intramuros Manila was a labyrinth of dark, damp cells, each one a silent testament to the harsh realities of a bygone era. We were told it was the cell of Jose Rizal, the national hero of the Philippines, and the weight of history pressed down on us as we stepped inside.   The cell itself was small, perhaps 20 square meters, with a single, stone stairway that let in a sliver of light. The air was cool and damp, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat outside. As we explored, I ran my hand alon

BGC: A New Chapter Begins   The city lights shimmered, reflecting off the polished glass facades of the towering buildings. I stood there, a little overwhelmed, a little excited, a little scared. This was my first time exploring BGC, and it felt like stepping into a different world.   Just a few weeks ago, I was saying goodbye to a job that had become a part of my routine, a familiar comfort zone. But a part of me yearned for something more, something new, something challenging. And so, I took a leap of faith, resigning from my position and embracing the unknown.   Now, here I was, standing in the heart of BGC, a place I had only seen in photos and heard about in whispers. The energy was electric, a palpable buzz of ambition and opportunity. I felt it in the air, in the way people walked with purpose, in the sleek cars that zipped by, in the constant hum of construction.   As I strolled through the streets, I couldn't help but think about the possibilities that la

As I closed my eyes, I found myself in the midst of a dream so vivid and surreal, it felt like a glimpse into another world. In this dream, I was surrounded by a group of dear friends, embarking on an unforgettable journey to India for a much-needed vacation. The air was filled with excitement and anticipation as we delved into the rich tapestry of this vibrant and diverse country.   Our vacation spanned five glorious days, each moment etched in my memory like a precious gem. However, amidst the joy and laughter, a twist of fate unfolded when one of my friends accidentally broke her camera. Determined to make the most of our time together, we decided to visit a temple that was said to rival the grandeur of Angkor Wat.   As we arrived at the temple, I was awestruck by its beauty. The tranquil pool glistened under the golden sun, its clear waters reflecting the serenity of the surroundings. After exploring the temple grounds, some of my friends expressed their desire to move