Tuesday, May 24, 2011

A Cliche Heartbreak

It was fourteen minutes after seven o’clock of this day when I finally decided to write about my heartbreak. It was storming violently outside and I can no longer hear the comfort songs that have been playing loudly on my speakers. The setting was a cliché. I’m quite sure that I’ve already read or watched this somewhere. It was a lazy evening but everybody seems busy. There were no stars in the sky although I haven’t checked. There are just certain things in life that you need not a proof or two for you to be persuaded.
I wanted to make this post and not to make this post. Weird and contradicting. You see, when I write, I usually learn from myself. When I hear the little voice which talks inside my head, I judge whether I make sense or not. Now, I wanted to hear myself out and judge whether I make sense or not. On the other hand, I don’t want to make this post because this will make me remember those happy times that I temporarily want to remove from my mind, for the greater heartbreak doesn’t lie on remembering the bitter details about your petty fights but on remembering the happy times together and why it won’t happen again.

My books for the Mathematical paper that I am currently working on are scattered on my table since Sunday. I haven’t opened them yet because as he said during one of those quarrels, my mind is closed and I am not capable of any learning at this time of my life. All has been said and done and I was the one who made the decision to finally give up on what we’re trying so hard to work on. When I think about the memories and happy moments we shared together, I know that I have made a wrong decision, that I have made myself a little more miserable. Yes, something in me is convinced that we can solve this together just like the other problems that made our relationship even stronger. But my rational ego tells me that I made the right decision, that I may be unhappy with my own choice but everyone else will agree that what I did was right and logical. I am preserving myself.

I am afraid to sleep. I am terrified to even close my eyes for I know that all my dreams will be about him. I am scared of myself. I know that some time from now, I will regret the decisions that I made and would want to go back to the time when I gave up and change everything. I am scared of everyone else because they would give me too many what if’s: what if you didn’t give up, what if your problem magically solved itself and what if you’re still together. I know that I would cry for the death of my dreams, for the loss of my plans on being together for the rest of our lives and for the defeat of myself who had been hanging in there for quite some time now. I know that more than missing his smiles, the warmth of his hand and the way he makes me feel so special, I will miss the girl I was whenever we are together. I will miss laughing and feeling so happy just because today is another day that we will be spending loving each other. I will miss the girl who wakes up feeling sorry because she slept accidentally while her boyfriend and she were texting the night before. I will miss the girl who gets all the butterflies in her tummy whenever her boyfriend tells her how much he loves her. I will definitely miss the way everything was, the way every verb is written at their present tense.

Now I’m taking too much time writing every sentence of this post, thinking each of it ends with a period. You see, I am not very fond of endings. I am not so proud of what I did, neither am I happy, but as a grown up, I am supposed to decide not for myself only but for the best of everyone involved. I hope I made the right decision. I hope everything will get better sooner. *hugs and pats her dear self*

Sunday, May 22, 2011

How Have You Been

How have you been? I ask the similar question to myself. It was more than six months when I last blogged something vague and unusual, not really explaining what’s going on with my life, and receiving comments which ask me about what happened to my writing. Well, I was and am okay. I can’t say that I was really busy because I clearly remember those times when I slack around and took this blog for granted. Now, I am trying to make it up for this little place.

First, I edited the description of myself in the little sidebar on the right. I am now nineteen. I already lost the privilege of saying aloud that I am sixteen and is actively updating this blog every week. I am now nineteen with the same doubts and fears I had when I was sixteen. I am now nineteen with higher expectations from people around me. I am now nineteen, as confused as ever.

Second, I am now on my fourth and final year in college. I am both thrilled and tired, and I do not have the slightest idea on how it could be. I am thrilled that finally, I will be graduating from school. I know that I should make the most of learning this year and not think about leaving school finally but after the endless nights of proving nothing and too many powerful mornings of eternal yawning, the thought that I’m finally graduating is too sweet to ignore and too spicy to think about often. I am also thrilled to think about the final subjects that I will be taking. Majority of those subjects are related to the thesis that I am currently working on so it’s nice to study something which screams its usefulness.

Third, I am done with Sage. Sage is a review center which admits incoming senior high school students and helps them pass the challenging college entrance examinations. As my memory allows me to recall, I made a post last year telling the blog-o-sphere about recent developments about Sage. This summer, I again committed myself to Sage. I was an Algebra teacher, a brand that I love to call myself. I had so much fun with the Sage experience this year, as well as last year, and that makes me nostalgic this early. This is my last year in teaching there and I will miss making and checking Math problems. I will miss communicating with students and trying to answer all of the ambiguities that they believed in. I will miss the Sage experience and every little lesson and fun that it gave me.

Lastly, I am up to so many things right now. As I mentioned, I am currently working on my Mathematical paper. Aside from that, I am currently inclined to digital photography. I love the way every simple things magically turn special when captured by the lens. I love the way I look fine when I smile even though gazillion of things are running in my mind. Aside from those things, I am also trying to commit myself to writing again. I do not know why in particular. I just realized that everything moved so swiftly when I abandoned my pen and paper, and I feel sorry for the times worthy of a blog post but then the feeling is not as intense and real as it was before and so I cannot write about it at the moment. I want to commit myself to writing again because this is my other world, the one who listens to all my boredom and ranting. This little space catches all my happy thoughts and stores it so that I can read them some time, when I forgot the things that matter and cannot anymore remember how it feels to be really happy. This reminds me of the melancholic times too and tells me again and again that I can get through anything that is happening in and with my life.

Till next post, blog-o-sphere! I am back, hopefully!

Monday, November 01, 2010

Cho Chang

She woke up this morning and glued her edges. It was a big world for a little fragile thing like her. She yawned and folded her sheets, not really ready to embrace the breath of the morning. This will be a long day. She has to keep her poise and show everyone her beauty. No one should notice. No one will understand. She has to play her role. She should not break apart in front of everyone. Heartbreak check: rapid.

She threw a glance outside her window and looked twice in disbelief. It was the first day of the changed season. The sky was both yellow and blue and pink clouds invite her to fly and drink euphoria. She smiled. She smiled wider. It was so ironic to see a peaceful sky above a chaotic world.She wondered how many other souls are wearing the same mask as hers: the mask of strength and bliss covering all the opposites in her pretty face. She glided towards the nearest leaf, the drizzle of the night still embedded on the smooth green face of the plant. She moved her eyes towards the sparkling water on the leaf and she saw herself: her elegance, her fragility, the excess pain in her eyes. She got her make-up from her drawer and started painting herself: pink for her womanhood, yellow for the lightness of her environment, orange for all her undying hopes, and black for her real feelings. She has to be really careful for she was only glued. She walked towards her door at the edge of the tree and kissed her home goodbye, for she is not sure if this is where she’ll head later. She said a short prayer then jumped. At last, she seems ready to go outside and continue living.

She stopped by to Sunflower for her breakfast. She ordered some Nectar and drank it as coffee. It was so sweet and energizing, simply enough to help her get through the day. Then she went to the park: the happiest place that she knows. She heard the intoxicating laughter of the playing children, the vows of the lovers around and the buzzing of the bees. But he was not there, as she expected. Every eyes turn to see her, eyes which cannot see through her pain. The people caught their cameras and started focusing on her. She is a true beauty. She danced and made her photos extraordinary. She was so pretty that she was able to put smiles in the faces of all the people who saw her. She moved with so much grace, never really minding the falling yellow leaves. She sung a lullaby. No one noticed her singing. No one actually heard it. It was like a melody that no one can hear but affects the mood of everybody. She smiled. She laughed. It was so ironic that she can easily make everyone happy except herself. The show is almost done.

Cho Chang finished her seventh song with a little tear in her left eye. Those were the songs of her whole life: her hopes, her fears, her only love, and her bitterness. No. The tear will not flow. It will just wash away her colors. It will ruin the show. It will vaporize the glue that’s keeping her whole. No. the tear will not flow. She felt a strong lump in her throat. No. She is strong. She can fight her tears. She began flying to another happy place then a little child pointed at her and said, “Look, mom! A crying butterfly in autumn!”. “No honey. Butterflies never cry,” the mother answered. And Cho Chang flew and flew and flew.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

On Teaching and Learning

It’s a week since I started teaching in Sage Review Group. Sage is a review centre which helps students to pass various college entrance examinations. At first, I must admit that I was just concentrated in being employed this summer and earning some sufficient money. I just don’t want to spend it slacking around especially now that I won’t be spending it on school. But little by little, I was seeing the beauty of what I was doing. Little by little, I was focusing more on what the students are learning even though it’s more than of what’s ask from me.

Way back three years ago, it was I who was sitting in those chairs, faced with a pen and a notebook, hoping that somehow, Sage Review Group will help me achieve my dreams. “Bringing your dreams... a step closer to you...” is the motto of Sage. I was once aspiring to pass the UPCAT, like the students I am teaching now, and it makes me shiver to realize that a large part of their future is in my hands. I was also once sitting in those chairs, thinking about what’s ahead of me and wondering about my tomorrow. I was very uncertain that time. I didn’t have plans. I didn’t have back-up plans. I know what I want yet I am not sure how to achieve all those. I was giving my entire trust to the knowledge I gained from elementary, high school and from Sage. I want to pass UPCAT that time, and a part of me was saying that she will never forgive me if I didn’t.

Really, it is no joke to be a teacher. I can only relate now that I had a little experience. I am admiring more today those teachers who were really able to teach me well, because I already know how difficult it is to make everyone understand the lesson’s point. It takes both skill and passion to be able to teach well. A teacher should be hardworking and knows what she/he is teaching, yes, but more than that, a teacher should be filled with the passion to impart her knowledge but just enough to leave her students hungrier for more knowledge. I realized, over the past week, that a teacher is supposed to be in love with what she/he is teaching in order to teach students not only the lesson but the importance of the lesson. More than passing the UPCAT, I want my students to know the importance of working hard for a word problem even if it isn’t so realistic. I want my students to learn, to think, to not give up easily because this is the real lesson behind every book and every examination.

I still have two weeks in Sage, two weeks to really give my best in every learning session that I am to handle. I still have two weeks to make the students realize that it’s not about passing the UPCAT alone, it’s also about finding the joy in learning. Sage is not just about bringing your dreams a step closer to you, but it is also about making you realize what these dreams really are, for many students still don’t know what they want in their lives. I still have fourteen days to encourage and help them improve in whatever weakness they have. I have two weeks to give them the advices which worked for me, and the advices which I failed to heed three years ago.
I wish, I can inspire them... as much as my teachers were able to inspire me so much.

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Breathing Life Into This Site Again

It’s been quite a while. Actually, it’s been more than a while since I last updated this blog. I know. I sort of abandoned it and failed all my goals of creating at least 10 posts per month. I started making 30 posts a month, then down to 20, then 10, then 5, then none. There was even a time when I don’t remember this site anymore. And there were also times when I remember this but choose not to make a post or two. Surely, my hiatus was a choice and I feel sorry for this little space in the Internet.

I was ‘silent’ for some reasons. My second year in college was testing all of my abilities and I need to prove myself that I can pass all my subjects and not retake anything anymore. Because of this goal, I was to do everything to comply with myself. By everything, I mean spending majority of my time in studying and solving Math problems, and also, I have to limit myself to care about the things which distract me. I was overworking myself and I just realized that now. I kept pushing that wall which creates my boundary It was both pride and self-satisfaction, and also, inspiration.so that I can turn some of my limitations to capabilities, and eventually, skills. I kept ignoring the things which make me comfortable if not happy, and one of these things is this blog. I was only looking at Math, not to expressing oneself and the addiction to words and expressions. I also tried and was able to make several posts while I was trying so hard with Math and these posts were vague and impaired and heartbroken. It was as if I only write because of my disappointments and I can’t convey happy thoughts anymore through words. Truly, I was trying too hard, so hard that it doesn’t flow naturally and continuously, so hard that instead of feeling more comfortable, it was as if I was putting myself in a little bottle. Then, I stopped writing and just chose to prioritize Math.

Meanwhile, while taking a break in writing and prioritizing Math, I was finally seeing the beauty of that ‘subject’. Little by little, it was not a simple subject anymore but an interest and then, a field which I am intertwining myself with. I don’t know when it started and when I was turning my world the opposite way but it was as if I woke up one day and realized that I am in love with Math, the subject I cursed and hate not so long ago. The realization and feeling was appropriate. After all, I was a Math major and to love the field which I am in will make my life less miserable. At least, if ever I face difficulties, there is a consolation that I love what I am doing so I’ll continue doing it even if it brings out the worst in me. While I was heading to the writing world and was looking forward to be a writer in any way, I u-turned to the opposite side which is to the numbers’ world and I was looking forward in being a Mathematician. Man, I am not in any drugs, really. It just so happen that my first and second love were opposite fields.

Now, I’m having a break from school. I am also planning to use this break to rest and rejuvenate, and bring back the passion I once lost. I’ll try my best not to try hard (what?!). I’ll try my best to stay inspired so that my posts will be a good-read in some ways and not full of heartaches or broken egos. I want to make this blog speak again, to make it contain all that I feel again and to be the catch-basin of all the memories which I never wanted to forget – the bad ones which hopefully made me wiser and the good ones which made my life worth-living. I want to breathe life into this blog again, but more importantly, I want that life to last. Because for the past months of silence, I learned that it is not about finding happiness and finding love. It is more of making those two last long, if not forever.

See you soon, blog-o-sphere!

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Waiting, Wishing and Wanting

She sits by the front porch of their little home, beneath the same sky he also sees. It has always been comfortable to stay under the canopy of those tall Acacia trees without anyone knowing what she's doing. She tiptoes every night for the fear of judgments and curfews and waits here until she cannot stand the chills of the night anymore. Other nights, she brings a shawl o a jacket, mostly when she can hear the snores of the others, a sign that they are deep and lost in their own paradise of make-believe and therefore she can wait a little longer than usual. Some nights, she brings nothing but herself and her guilt of broken promises.

He lies awake all night, until the sun eats the moon away and he'll get up to start working. He cannot stop thinking about the past, the present and the future, making him all restless and unhappy while everyone snoozes… well, except her, of course. This has been his life after she decided to just meet him there. He constantly checks his mobile phone for any message from her wrongly sent to him. He waits emptily for her broken promises. He is absently hopeful to meet her again, just hanging in that desire because he knows that he cannot just throw all those memories away.
Two years of absence. Two years since she saw his dark complexion, and who can tell, maybe he is darker now, but she likes his skin tone so much. Two years since they talked about what’s up, and she’s sure that his voice is now bigger, deeper, defining his manhood. Two years since she delivered her sad goodbye. She still doesn’t know how to make her promises real, or if she has to make her promises real. Who knows, as he aged, he might lose his interests as he lost his innocence. She doesn’t know if he’s waiting for her, like she patiently does, or he’s happily living the rest of his life without her. After all, there are no signs of him, except her instincts, except her feelings, but what good are those abstracts? She needed something real, something to convince her to be true to her empty words.

Two years of waiting. Two years since he saw her long and black hair and he doesn’t know whether she cut it short or it’s longer now. He hopes that it's longer, for it adds to her irresistible charisma. Two years since they talked about what’s up, and he hopes that she still talks the way she does, for it is distinct and melodious and very mature. She seldom speaks English and finds it humble about her. Two years since he delivered his sad goodbye. He still doesn’t know whether she remembers him, occasionally, or maybe frequently like he does. He doesn’t know whether he still needs to hope, to wait, to wish secretly for her. There are no signs that she’s coming back. No messages, no letters, no missed calls. She must have forgotten her promises, for people forget the things that don’t really matter. Some days, he will wake up and go on with his life, hoping that when the nighttime comes, he will not wait anymore… because it hurts, it really does. But everything changes when he sees the stars, because her smile is bright as those little sparks. There are no signs of her, except his instincts and the voice in his head that says “What if she comes back?”, but what good are those abstracts? He needed something tangible for a fresh hope of another day. He needed something to silence the other voice which whispers, “What if she doesn’t come back?”

And it took them two years… and counting, to do the nightly routine of waiting and wishing and wanting.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


Wake me from my deep sleep, awaken all of my quiescent senses. Shake me until I don’t feel the insensitivity anymore, until I feel the flux of my blood running in every little inch of my body. At least I’m alive, maybe not dancing but breathing. Shout loud noises into my ears until I am deaf of the silence no more, until your voice sends up and down shivers right into my spine. Open my eyes to the terrible circumstance of my reality. Show me the redness of the Earth. Show me other things than those I saw before I took the time to sleep. Show me that there’s more to life than those inevitable pain. Let me be familiar with your scent until I forgot his. Let me smell the fragrance of life, of new love, of hope so I’ll forgot about the scent of lost, of helplessness, of nostalgia and love, too. Teach me how to trust again. Teach me how to love again. Teach me how to live again. Because I forgot how.

Bring me some new diary… without the old scent of sunshine and longing and sweet forgiving, and I’ll try to write my life without him, without anything from him, without anything about him. Straighten the pretty stationery of those teens which know nothing about love. Make sure that the paper is of different shade, of different hue, just like my anticipated life now. Throw the key of my old little diary for no one remembers what happened, no one knows I’m already awake. Nothing should ever be the same as my bitter before. Nothing should ever be similar at some point or another. Bring me a pen and ink which doesn’t fit very well to my hand for if it does, I’ll just remember the bittersweet touch of his fingers tangling mine. And I will start sleeping all over again into that soft bed and comfortable pillows of isolation. I don’t know when I’ll wake up. I don’t know if I will ever wake up. I cannot lose the same battle twice. I just can’t.

Switch to a new song of a new beginning. Burn that mix tape. Break that music player. Destroy all of his notes, all of his painful chords. Close not just the chapter of that life but close the whole novel. Close the entire book. Tear every pages of that thing. Throw it to the fire. Never leave a thing for if you do, I might sleep again and I don’t want to be on that state of hopelessness, on that insensitivity, on that emptiness inside. Do not cure my amnesia. I want to stay this way. I don’t want those nightmares to control me again and hold me to my throat where I can hardly breathe and call for some help. I don’t want those ghosts of him to haunt me every night when it’s late and I am all alone and kill me with insomnia and excessive thinking and endless longing. Don’t allow them to see me once more. Don’t allow him to hurt me one more time. Never again… because for the long run, I feel so pathetic to run around the circles of his planet, never realizing that I am hiding from myself for he is still in my heart, in the core and essence of my being and existence. Never again… for in the long run, I feel so exhausted to sleep deeply and pretend not to be bothered or hurt or even notice but deep inside, I am all opposite. I don’t want to take those antidotes again. Never again… for in the long run, one look and one smile from him shall put me to a deep sleep again.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Christmas Vacation Plans

A week before Christmas day, I retire from my studies. Finally, the anticipated vacation is here.

This is my first and last vacation for this year. Last summer, I spent my everyday in school while last semester break, I spent it hanging like a spider in its web with books and scratch papers. Those were not vacations for something is not a vacation if it lies amidst school works. Truly, to finally realize that I’ll spend the following weeks doing only what I want and what I am not required to do makes me want to jump for joy. Hurray!

The last week of classes this 2009 really sucked all of my enthusiasm towards studies. There were exams here and there and so many activities that waits to be failed. I felt that I crossed my limits, trying to do what I cannot for the sake of staying on my course and graduating on time, and trying to put my feet on the ground when I feel like breaking into millions of pieces just to disappear and lose all the pressure. That week was crucial in a sense that everything must fall into proper places or I will again face the consequence of failing and repeating a subject. Now that the mentioned crucial week is done and vacation is sipping in, I can only cross my fingers and hope that my best was good enough to pass those examinations and not be too pressured next year. That won’t be a good start. For now, I will sleep late and wake up late and stay as idle as I can and refill my enthusiasm meter.

This vacation, I am also planning to write again, or to try writing again. I’ve read so many books this 2009 (and thanks to the people who gave me some) and unfortunately, I was not able to come up with a very satisfying post that shall reflect all of those books I’ve read. Truly, skills rust when you don’t use them or you take them for granted. Maybe it’s also one effect of Mathematics, that when you start liking Math and you start feeling that attraction towards numbers, you feel like words are too incomplete and cannot contain exact meanings, like they are all approximation. Math and English are two opposite fields that they really repel. This hiatus, I wish to regain all those precision in words. I am not anticipating to have oh-so-good posts but just to have posts again. I wish to express myself through writing again for it has really influenced the past years of my life, catching all those wanted and unwanted thoughts for future inspection. And so I am beginning right now and hopefully, I shall continue tomorrow.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

New Moon, No Moon

I woke up last night from a beautiful dream. At first, I didn’t know what was it so I stood up and left my chilling pillow under the sheet and prepared a cup of hot milk to help me think. Instantly, after I had a sip, I realized that the moon was present in my dream. So that may be the reason why I termed it beautiful. After another warm sip, I realized that the very reason why it was beautiful is also the reason why it was just a dream. It was fully there … that’s it.

I hurried to bed as the realization came crashing over me. It was way too much for a night, way too much to allow me sleep again. So before it was too late, I lie down again, erasing all traces of hurt and expectations, thinking nothing but to be able to sleep again and not suffer a night under the waves of emotions, to dream again, to just forget everything. I should have known that I am good at it. Not at all.

As the moon reaches its shiniest, I stared at it with such painful realizations. It has always been my dream while I sleep and even when I am awake. I always wanted to fly up there and live in there, pulled by its gravity just like the tides of the earth, though it’s too much to imagine and too much to wish. The moon has always been far from my reach, just right for my stare. It has always been high up there with the millions of stars illuminating the dark sky. It has always been there allowing me to see through the night. The moon has always been beautiful and magnificent in all of its ways, standing-out and amazing. I follow its gravity more than how I do with that of the earth. However, once in my life, I watched the moon flew right in front of me. Indeed, it was a dream-come-true. Indeed, it was the happiest thing that ever happened to my life and I can still remember everything on that silent night when it came down. I thought that that was just easy. I thought that I can be with that moon as often as I want. I thought I can stare at it as long as I can but I am just under that same sky where everyone sees the same moon, and so I can’t call that moon as my own even though it flew down for me. Also, there were times when the moon is sometimes missing. Sometimes, it’s new moon and the sky is too dark that shadows are the only things that I can see. I’ll run and hide and try to fly, only to find out that there is no sign of the moon no matter how hard I try to search, only little stars which are randomly scattered to make an impression that there is still light. I’ll wait and pray and hope that the moon will soon shine and drive all my darkness away, then my prayer will be half-answered, because the moon will be half-there. Only half-there.

There was nothing special last night without that full moon. I wasn’t certain what to hope to feel that night, but I felt empty. I was empty of any hope and enthusiasm. I was empty of mirth and satisfaction. I was exactly opposite as my dream. I realized that I too, at times like this, is just half there, and the other half is staying on her dreams, playing on her fool’s paradise of make-believe.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

A Student's Real World

I woke up at five that Tuesday morning with the realization that that day was the first day of classes. It didn’t make me rush since I am not yet late. I said a little prayer and get up and felt the shivering morning under my skin. Whew. I hate to break the calmness of the morning. Turning the faucet on, worsen the cold, for the water was cold as ice and it runs while killing all the living flames inside my body until I, too, am as cold as ice. It felt like ten minutes passed and still, I made no progress at all. I guess, I wasn’t just excited for my first day.

As a child, I have always been eager for school. I was always attentive, always excited and never lazy for it. It was something I anticipate each day. I was after finishing everything my school requires me to do and eventually, on enjoying while learning with my friends and classmates. I might even say that a part of my childhood was stolen from me by my academics. At some point while I was still very young, I felt deprived about playing outside just because I have an exam tomorrow and because I study in a private school so I shouldn’t waste my tuition fee. As I grew older, I learned to feel less deprived and more privileged. Maybe, a part of the reason behind that was because I also lost that age where playing outside was both natural and a need. I was done with that stage.

I started feeling exhausted when I was in high school. The anticipation towards exam was not anymore that high. Nervousness and crammings started to penetrate my system, too. It was fun and hassle-free at some point but whole day classes usually leave me with nothing but worn-out energy. Nevertheless, it was enough that achievements and recognitions were the fruit of every labor. In life, I must say with the little experience I have, that when the people who matters see all your efforts, it makes you re-directed, that no matter how exhausted you are, it refills all your wasted energy and makes it overflowing again. It was like that in high school – difficult but still tolerable.

Now that I am in college, that tolerable part during high school is gone and nowhere to be found. The only consolation I have is the hope that someday and somehow, all these sleepless nights and difficult mornings will bear something I desire, something I deserve. I really cannot wait to get over this particular stage where I feel so burdened. I know, I don’t have really high grades but I realized that after all, success is really a measure for one’s self and not a measure given by others. I know that overall, I am giving everything I have and I can though it’s not enough for most of the times. For me, it has always been a price to be educated. For me, it has always been a special privilege but also a great sacrifice. Like studying for tomorrow’s lesson but also losing a part of my childhood along the way that I can never retrieve. It’s a matter of seeing things in a perspective that will do you good, that will leave you at your best.

I rode the bus that shall bring me a jeepney away from my university. An hour of a very sleepy travel plus the realization that I have to try my best to endure Math and Physics again. A cup of brewed coffee for survival and to avoid yawns is what this present student life requires. Less of facebook. Less of blogspot. Less of those mouth-watering novels that is not connected with academics. More of scratch paper and photocopied readings. The joy of a suspended class and the sorrow of failing a final exam all come with it. The grief of failing one of your goals and the bliss of achieving the rest of those is what this student's real world is all about.