First posted in the FB page of UNC – CBA Tycoon, January 25, 2025. Tycoon is the official student publication of the University of Nueva Caceres – College of Business and Accountancy.

The author reflects on her losing touch with her younger, brighter self while she navigates the struggles of adulthood and survival. Her accompanying poems touch on love, vulnerability, and the bittersweet beauty of human connection.

Uncharted

I’ve always wondered if there will come a day when I will look at myself in the mirror and see something more than wasted potential. Maybe I should stop searching for something that isn’t there and accept that this is all there is. Maybe this is all I am.

I see pictures of myself from when I was younger before life pushed me to grow up, and I hardly recognize her. She was the kind of kid who was sent to Math or English contests, who wrote poems and stories, who drew, who danced. She was good at these things-enough to compete, enough to receive praise from teachers and classmates, enough to make her family proud. She was an artist. She was curious. She got straight A’s, and other parents would often comment on how bright and how lucky her parents were to have a child like her. People noticed her, admired her, or maybe they just admired the image they had of her. She was quiet, reading books during recess, trying to stay invisible.

She was sad. She grew even sadder as the years went by and she learned what the real world was like. She started looking for love in all the wrong places. And then she got busy-busy just surviving, keeping her head above water, instead of living and thriving. Instead of nurturing her talents and her brilliance, she fought to stay afloat because there was no other way to make it out alive. That’s how she lived. No, not lived-survived.

As I navigate through the complexities of adulthood, I sometimes feel like I’ve lost touch with the person I once was. The years of struggle and sacrifice have shaped me into someone more guarded, more cautious, and at times, more resigned. The dreams I once had seem distant, buried under the weight of responsibility and doubt. Yet, in the quiet moments, I can’t help but wonder if those dreams are still there, quietly waiting to be rediscovered.

“Are you still there?” I find myself wanting to talk to the forgotten child inside me. “Are you okay? Did it hurt?” I realized the most important thing I needed to tell her: “You’re safe now.

All those years I spent surviving weren’t wasted — they were preparing me for the life I’m about to embrace. The truth is, it’s never too late. I’ve been brave, I’ve been resilient, and now it’s time to stop letting that potential go to waste. I understand how easy it is to grow comfortable in sadness, to hold on to what’s familiar — even when it’s been destructive. But I’ll make sure all the work I’ve done to redeem myself hasn’t been in vain. Little by little, I’m finding my way back to the person I was always meant to be. It’s not wasted: it’s just finding its way back.

She’s still here, quietly waiting for me to remember.

Featured Poetry

Out of the Ordinary, You

I believe in soulmates, 
I believe that people find it 
that one person 
who brings out your inner child 
that innocent adoration 
pure and haunting 
drives you mad yet calming 
a connection so rare 
it heals your being 
the love that makes you sigh 
not in exhaustion, but in relief 
but I also believed 
that soulmates may exist 
but not for me, 
not for me. 
Then, out of the blue 
out of the most unexpected circumstance
on a day I deemed ordinary 
I found mine. 
I found you. 

To let be and let go

Words are mere words, 
as you speak with such wary, 
never fully sharing, 
the side of your story. 
How do I get through, 
the walls you created? 
When you, 
even you, 
like your tales faded. 
And so I gave it some time, 
tended and listened, 
and just when it felt like 
it finally happened, 
I found myself dazed, 
holding a part of you --
no, not all of it, 
but still something true. 

I held that small portion
of what was shared in our midst, 
I see it's not even there, 
I was cherishing an empty kist. 
For a while, it stung --
was I fantasy-driven? 
I sat in solitary, 
why am I this riven? 
Revisited old chatters, 
and it finally unfolded, 
I set expectations 
from my mind that I molded. 
I've almost forgotten 
that, not like an object or an item, 
you can't change people, 
you can only love them. 

The header image was featured on the FB page of UNC – Tycoon CBA.

About the author:

Marella Francesca Bertumen, 28, is a working student from Pili, Camarines. She is attending the University of Nueva Caceres, College of Business and Accountancy. Currently she works as a Virtual Assistant Trainer.

Her writing delves into the raw and unspoken layers of personal experience. Through reflective storytelling, she explores the quiet struggles and profound realizations that shape human connection—not just with others but with the deepest parts of the self. Her work is an invitation to pause, to feel, and to find pieces of oneself in the narratives she weaves.