Sweet Nothings

Captured at Puerto Galera: Momo, our friend, and I were playing in the waves

Sweet Nothings and Silence

If you’re anything like me, a quiet observer, you know how heavy the silence can be in a world that demands too much gratification. I grew up in a small family, or more accurately, a family of five: my mom, dad, aunt, and grandma. My grandma raised me back in Iloilo, her presence a comforting constant. When my dad passed away ten years ago, I remember wishing on the moon that my grandma would stay much longer like forever? But life happens, it has other plans. She passed away two years ago, and my aunt soon after. The silence that followed wasn’t just the absence of sound, it became a companion. Now it’s just my mom and me.

Being an only child shaped me into someone who listens more than she speaks, someone who filters her words carefully, for fear that they cut too deep. My thoughts can be blunt most times, but I speak softly, and I only let a few people hear what’s really going on in my mind.

Finding people who feel safe enough to trust opening up is rare. I can count my closest friends on one hand. And each of them feels like a lifeline.

Nothing so sweet of being sick

Yesterday, I skipped work. Not because I wanted to, but because my body demanded it. Fever, allergies, a head that felt like it was about to split open, one of those days where you just want someone to care for you, to tuck you in bed. But you can’t have everything you want, so I dragged myself out of bed, did the chores, and showered.

Then, my phone rang. It was Momo, my best friend from the US. We met through a mutual friend years ago, but it feels like we’ve known each other forever. We’re “attached at the hip,” as she says, our birthdays are just two days apart. It’s been a while since we last talked, both of us caught up in the chaos of life. But today, the universe seemed to align.

Sweet Nothings and Listening to Quiet Connections

Momo was on the video call with me, sitting at her dining table with a plate of freshly cooked carbonara, courtesy of her boyfriend. I was there too, in a virtual way, my face on an iPad screen, a silent third wheel as they shared their day. They talked about laundry, breakfast plans, the kind of mundane details that shouldn’t matter but somehow do. Again, those are sweet nothings I could say.

Well aside from Je te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson, the song Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift has been playing constantly for two days randomly in my playlist so that somehow gave me the notion of relating what's happening to my reality to those two words I have been hearing. Sweet nothing. Two simple words that, when strung together, hold a quiet, profound weight. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t demand or expect, the kind that exists in the space between words.

It made me realize why I liked listening to them talk. It wasn’t about what they were saying, it was about how they said it. The comfort, the quiet reassurance that comes from liking someone for exactly who you are. In a world that constantly tells us to be more, to do more, this felt simple. To rest in the comfort of “sweet nothing.”

Sweet Nothings and Endings

By the end of the call, I felt better. We talked about everything and nothing at the same time, from how my hair color should be, new people that we met, new places to visit in Makati (proud one here since I’m finally going out, again), my impulsive decision to book a beach trip randomly, my small but significant choice to work on myself. We listened, encouraged, and reminded each other to grow and not spiral back to our old habits.

She’s always been my safe space, my constant in a world that often feels overwhelming. Yeah I have a few close friends, I can say, coz I will always be a ride or die friend. Connection doesn’t have to be grand, just have to be meaningful. Sometimes, it’s found in the quiet moments, in the sweet nothings that remind you you’re not alone.

Okay P.S. I can't wait for her to come home to the Philippines this January.

Another P.S. well lately I have been hovering around Ocean Vuong, and if you’re anything like me that is tragic romantic read this:

• “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong
  A poetic exploration of love, trauma, and the complexities of family. I can say he translates unpolished raw and intimate moments into words.