CARPE DIEM.

I’m currently sitting alone here in a park in Rome, in a place I just recently discovered. My legs suspended over the edge of, I’d say, probably a 50 ft ledge, my laptop in my lap, a small assortment of various fruits, cheeses, and meats next to me on top of my journal lined with the words “CARPE DIEM” and my name “C. SANTAW” underneath. The smell around me is foreign yet so familiar. It is currently mid-March, meaning it's that strange transitional season where the Earth doesn’t know whether to pour its soul out and flood everything, or beam down sun from Helios himself.

Nonetheless, sitting here I’ve come to realize that my strongest sense is smell. Smell transports me to places I haven’t thought about since my childhood. The current scent profile I am surrounded by is herbaceous yet woody, damp yet warm. All mixing to form a scent I haven’t smelled since I was probably around 7 years old.

This unfamiliar yet familiar smell, my current state of being alone, and the somewhat irresponsible act of my lower half hanging over this ledge reminds me of the last time I truly felt free. No worries, no pressure, no thoughts. Just living.

It reminds me of being in the woods playing with my brother at my grandparents’ house. When life was at its peak, I just didn’t know it yet. I didn’t know how much I’d miss those days. Yet, who says those days are over?

This past week, I’ve been alone in Rome. The first time I’ve really ever been truly alone. No parents, no roommates, no friends. And writing this isn’t meant to be dramatic or me wanting a pity party. I chose to be alone. I purposefully didn’t go on a spring break trip this year.

This idea of being alone, and actually finding pleasure in it, is something that I would have never thought I would enjoy. For so long, I’ve been searching for my group of people, for my peers to accept and love me. But who am I doing this for? Not for myself, I can tell you that right now.

I’ve always hated being alone. But that’s the reality of being an expat. And that’s the reality of growing older.

In my 19 years of life I’ve come to realize one thing. No one has truly had an original experience. And when I say this, it is more figuratively than literally, of course. But it's true. Everyone is just living life for the first time. Everyone goes through the same struggles. The only difference is that we process life differently.

So just enjoy it. Honestly, up until this very second of me writing, I’ve noticed I’ve been taking life too seriously. As with anything, there is a time and place where the seriousness of life does need to be prioritized. But that shouldn’t overtake having fun with your life. Travel, push yourself to do things you’d never think you’d like, and put yourself out there.

Because in the end, it doesn’t matter. You are just living for yourself. No one else. Remember that.

Thinking about that reminds me of one of the most influential figures in my life, my Tita Anne. She knew how to live life. She passed away just a few months ago, but I know she was so fulfilled in her life that she was truly at peace. She was the strongest person I knew, and she didn’t take bullshit.

The oldest of six siblings, she was the first one to immigrate from the Philippines to the United States, where she became a professor and extremely successful. But she wasn’t just handed these opportunities on a silver platter. She struggled, remembered where she came from, and knew what she wanted to become.

And I believe she achieved this by having a perspective like no other. She seized any opportunity that she saw. “CARPE DIEM”, “seize the day” in Latin. She lived by those two powerful words, hence why my journal has them etched into the cover.

She always encouraged exploration. She was the first person to bring my mother to Europe, which eventually became the reason why my mother moved abroad, and, as we know, eventually became the reason why I now live as an expat in Italy.

She passed away at the age of 93, having lived most of her life before the digital age. A time when people traveled for themselves, not for others. Now our lives often feel forced, where we travel simply to post on social media to show others that we are living life. But are we?

Tita Anne lived when traveling meant learning. Having to get around before GPS, having to actually talk to people to figure out how to navigate the world. This immersive environment is something we lack today.

Sitting here now, I realize that this was exactly what travel meant to my Tita Anne. Not just moving from one place to another, but allowing the world to slowly reshape the way you see it.

Perspective doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from moments like this. Moments where you are alone in a place that once felt foreign, but slowly starts to feel familiar. Being an expat sounds glamorous when you say it out loud. Living abroad, traveling, experiencing the world.

But what people rarely talk about is how much of it you actually spend alone. Exploring cities alone. Eating alone. Figuring things out in a language you barely understand. And at first, that solitude feels uncomfortable. Oftentimes you find yourself questioning if it’s even going to be worth it in the end. You may even feel as if something is wrong. Like you should be somewhere else, with someone else, living life the way society thinks you’re supposed to.

But the longer you sit with it, the more you begin to realize that nothing is wrong at all.

Maybe that’s the real lesson in all of this. Nobody actually knows what they’re doing. Everyone is living life for the first time, figuring things out as they go, making mistakes, feeling lost, and slowly finding their way again. And in a strange way, there’s comfort in knowing you’re not alone in that.

Somewhere along the way, society started to poison our brains with this idea that we need to have everything figured out, that we need to constantly be doing something, constantly improving. But sitting here now, alone in Rome, with nothing but the smell of the trees and the damp earth around me, that same woody, herbaceous scent that brought me back to being seven years old in the woods, I realize that life was never meant to be performed for anyone else. It’s meant to be experienced. Maybe that’s what “Carpe Diem” really means. Not trying to make every moment extraordinary, but simply allowing yourself to live it fully. To be present. To be curious. To be okay with being alone. Because in the end, the only life you are actually living is your own.

CARPE DIEM.