Call me Isagani.
My name came from the word "bountiful harvest" in Filipino, yet my life is nothing like that at all. Let's get straight to the point, I'm Isagani, 17 years old, loves history.
I was currently in Math class, for the first 10 minutes of the class, I was just memorizing the dates of historical event in World War II. While the rest of the class struggled with x and y, my head was at the Battle of Bataan, retracing the steps of generals long gone. Minutes later we started doing our daily quiz— in which I absolutely find it boring and unnecessary. I was trying to concentrate but I kept getting bothered by my seat mate, "Isagani, how do you do the question number two?" Crisanto asked in a pleading tone, I sighed "You're still stuck on number two? It's been 20 minutes and I'm on number 35." I contemplated on whether to help him or not "Come on, Isagani! I really need to finish or else I will only get a one!" he begged again. "Fine... You will just..." As I taught him, the teacher suddenly announced, "Okay class, pass your papers, finished or not finished!" me and Crisanto turned our heads slowly to look at each other "Hand me your paper! I will pass it along mine!" he hissed, relief mixed with panic in his eyes. I was startled for a second before shoving the paper into his hand. I let out a slow breath as I watched Crisanto practically throw both quizzes onto the pile. As Crisanto went back to his seat, I noticed that his hands were trembling "Hey, are you okay?' I asked while trying not to hold my laugh. "It's obvious that I'm not!" his voice trembled as he retorted back, I just turned my head away to laugh silently.
As our teacher prepared to leave, the door suddenly opened— it's the President of the student council, Carlos "Ma'am, may I excuse Isagani for a meeting?" he asked "Mhm, of course." she replied "Just make sure to make it quick because Isagani's coach told me that they have practice in journalism." she added. Carlos just nodded, I got up and packed my things up. After we left the classroom, I just stared out of the window while walking. "Oh, I forgot that I would practice under the Narra tree later. Good that I remembered." I muttered under my breath; Carlos' ear picked it up immediately and he asked me "Why do you love doing things under that old Narra tree anyways? I immediately replied "I always hangout under that tree because... I don't know, it just makes me feel calm for some reason." I zoned out for a second before Carlos snapped his fingers at my face, "Hey! Stop walking, we're already outside the student council's office!" he said while laughing, I just smiled and shook my head.
As he opened the door, I saw our other fellow student council officers. My eyes took in the surroundings before something caught my eye: it was Juan, my classmate. He is always, I mean always annoying. He pisses me off so much, why? Because when he became my teammate in journalism, he made super short articles. And not to mention, he was so slow he was like a turtle and a snail combined! Which made us lose the DSPC, and that enraged me because for the past 5 years that i've been in journalism, we always qualify for the RSPC. I silently rolled my eyes as I thought of it, anyways I just took my seat and zoned out—again. "Hey, kuya Isagani! What time is our practice later?" Juan asked, I slowly turned my head to look at him "Isn't the time in the gc? Maybe you should check it beforehand." I replied with an annoyed tone, I was about to add something to make him angry but Carlos suddenly cleared his throat. His intention clear to silence us. "Okay so uh... We will be taking attendance." Carlos announced, "I'm obviously here so I will just check myself from the list." he added "Vice President, Isagani Dela Umbria." he called out. "I'm here." I replied lazily. As Carlos continued to take attendance, I just fidgeted around until the meeting started. "Okay, so ma'am Aella decided that we are going to make letters based on the 1880s. So, you are going to make it for someone that you know or don't. Like fictional or something that sort, you can do everything to make it look old: spilling coffee all over it, wrinkling it, or using brown paper to make it easier. It doesn't really matter on how you do it." he explained "Oh and I forgot to say something, she also said that you can write everyday or whenever you want. Also, another project that we have is that we have to take care of the Science park and plant trees on our backyard garden. That's it, meeting adjourned." he added.
I quickly left the room, thinking about what to study when I get home maybe I should read Noli again. I thought, when I was about to close the door, Juan suddenly stopped me and asked "Kuya Isagani, can I go with you to practice?" he begged, which annoyed me once more. "No," I replied coldly, not wanting to do anything with him. "Stop bothering me, maybe with Santi because he's your friend. I have my own thing to do. Also just finish your sports article so that I can do the layout when I go home." I added, walking away quickly. Wanting to release my anger, I clutched my backpack against my chest while approaching the Narra Tree. I quickly thought of the grounding methods that my psychologist taught me. "Remember, Isagani. Count the colors." I muttered while taking a deep breath, I sat down and leaned my back against the Narra Tree, "Purple, look for items that has purple in it." I said as I slowly released hold of my backpack as I began to look around to count the items that has the color of purple. "There's three items." I mumbled. I rummaged through my bag to write the letter that ma'am assigned us. I pulled out a brown paper: the one that I was supposed to use for my other project in Filipino, but I didn't care. I want to write to whoever or whatever I want. Random or not, I want to vent, I want someone or something to somehow understand me.
I pulled out my pen and started writing, the pen scratching against the rough surface.
December 10, 2025.
To whoever is listening,
They told us to write to someone we know or is fictional, but I'm writing to the ghost of this tree. I'm writing because I'm tired of being the "Kuya" who must hold everything together. I'm tired of the noise, the group chats, and the people who don't care about the things that matter, it doesn't stir anything in me. My name is Isagani, which means a bountiful harvest, but I think that i was born with a twin curse. today I feel empty, oh wait I forgot. Not just today, honestly, I feel empty every day I don't feel anything except anger and despair. I love the past because the dead don't disappoint you. They stay in the books where they belong. But here, in the present, I'm just a boy sitting under a tree, counting colors just to keep from screaming and breaking things. If you're out there, and you understand what it's like to want to disappear into a different time... Then I suppose this letter is for you.
After I wrote the letter, I folded it and left it on a hollow hole on the tree. The next morning, the air felt different—heavy and humid, as if the sky itself was holding its breath. While I was going to school, I thought that I would receive nothing in return and that I was a fool for expecting something. When I arrived at school, the first thing that I did was reach into the hollow of the Narra tree to retrieve my letter, my fingers brushed against something crisp. It wasn't my rough brown paper. It was a thick, cream-colored parchment, sealed with a drop of dark red wax. My heart hammered against my ribs as I immediately broke the seal with shaking hands and saw the date at the top, written in elegant, cursive. The kind that you almost wouldn't understand but still think that it's beautiful: Disyembre 11, 1885.