Places,  Ruminations

My heart belongs to the city

I’m a city rat. Always have been, always will be. That’s why I love Cubao: even with all the pickpockets, the energy of that place always warms my heart somethin’ fierce.
Along Quezon Avenue

Of course, the chaos of the city gets to me sometimes. The roar of some douchebag’s motorcycle at 2AM, the yelling of drunken maniacs on the streets… Not to mention the filth, smell, and crowds of the metro. It’s almost enough to make me want to live in a farm.


I feel disconnected when I’m at a province. Even going to my boyfriend’s house in Bulacan gives me a slight case of the heebie-jeebies. The quiet is a nice change of pace, but it’s unsettling. It makes me feel disoriented and a bit lonely. Same when I’m at a beach (which I dearly love): there’s just something not right.
In the more rural areas, transportation becomes rarer as the night deepens; in the city, no one sleeps. Jeepneys, buses, taxis, and tricycles are all awake, blaring their horns for the late-night commuters. Coffee shops don’t close until midnight, so you can while away your hours chatting with a fellow night owl. Bars are open 24/7 to give people their fill of cold beer and music. How can I not fall in love?


You might say I’m romanticizing city life. Maybe I am.
But I will always feel most connected when I’m surrounded by the buzz of the city. And I will always feel thrilled at skylines and city lights, at standing atop a footbridge and watching the cars go by.

Ela is a twentysomething who is constantly getting stuck in self-destructive behavior and bouts of low self-esteem. She struggles with depression and writes to relieve herself of her feelings. Sometimes she even blogs about other things like makeup and positivity. One of her pieces was published in the Inquirer Young Blood in October 2017. She likes cats, dogs, and sometimes even people.

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