An adult trapped in a child’s body

A child is supposed to go outdoors to play, not to work.

While some of us had a childhood filled with fun memories—playing with other kids in a playground, having toys (educational or otherwise) and being fed with whatever is necessary for a growing kid, some aren’t as lucky. Just like this little boy on the photo I took last week when I went out with my friends to buy some yoghurt and chocolate milk.

He should’ve been at school, learning that horrible subject called Math and complaining about how his teachers are making his life a living hell. He should’ve been playing with the other kids before, during, or after school.

June1He’s not supposed to be out in the streets or anywhere in that matter, to sell products in order to help support his family and maybe his studies too.

I don’t know where his parents are or what they’re doing. Are they working too and he’s just helping them because the money they earn is still not enough to support their family and his studies? Are they wasting away their life gambling and drinking and doing whatever it is reckless and irresponsible parents do? Are they sick and couldn’t work so he just has to step up and be the bread winner of his family? Are his parents still alive?

I guess I’ll never really know.

I just hope he doesn’t grow weary and resentful. I hope he sees this as a challenge and a chance to better his situation. I hope this becomes a motivation for him to try hard, work hard, and excel in school (I do hope he still goes to school) so as to make sure that he gets a better shot at life sometime in the future.

I just hope that he doesn’t lose hope.


DP Weekly Writing Challenge, “Starting Over”: Winged Memories


I thought it was just like any other day. If I only knew way back then how wrong I was. I was on my way home when a butterfly caught my eye. Butterflies have always fascinated me with their beauty. This particular one is currently flying from one colourful flower to another. I was an inch away from its wings when, as if on cue, rain started to fall. I was on the verge of giving up any hope of staying dry when realization dawned upon me. Above me was an umbrella, held by a boy with startling brown eyes. Now, I was no longer just fascinated with the butterflies.  My memories are now filled with fascination and love for him.

Ten long years have already passed since that fateful day. We became friends and so much more. Who would have thought that that ugly looking umbrella would start it all? Now here I am, looking so beautiful in my white gown. The ceremony was about to start and as I was busy looking over the crowd of expectant faces, a pair of colourful wings caught my eye. It was, I realized, a butterfly.

Suddenly, everything became a blur and I felt like I was that girl again from ten years ago. Staring into those brown eyes, I remembered so much more. He was staring at someone from my behind. I turned around and saw my best friend. Her beauty radiated as she gracefully walked by. Ten long years had really passed and so many things had happened—things that were way beyond my control. Today is my best friend and his’ wedding ceremony.

As the wings of the butterfly slowly faded from my sight, I had come to accept that my memories of him would have to fade. I looked back at the happy couple in front of me as they, in turn, looked lovingly into each other’s eyes and I thought, “It’s time for me to start over too.”


This is my first time participating in The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge. 🙂 After reading this week’s theme, writing a short piece of creative writing on Starting Over, this piece instantly came into mind. This was originally written for my English class when I was still in my freshman year. We were asked to write a very short story containing the words: butterfly, beauty, umbrella, girl, and ceremony. 🙂

This is what happens when I make a report late at night…

I’m currently doing a laboratory report for my Chem 112.1 (Physical Chemistry II- Laboratory) subject and I’m not exactly sure what time this happened but I think it was past midnight already.

My eyes were already fighting so damn hard to remain open that I didn’t realize that I wasn’t making any sense anymore. I want to sleep but I still can’t because I still have to do the a lot of calculations and whatnot.

It’s 3:30AM.



Failure seems to be the hardest word.

The idealist in me had planned 5 months ago that a change in ways, manners, principles and outlook must be enforced and achieved. However, the results showed otherwise. If ever I did change, which was definitely not the case, it wasn’t for the better. Unfortunately, it was for the worse.

For a semester deprived of dance trainings every night, I was supposed to be performing better in an entirely different arena—the academe. The decrease in the number of distractions and consequently, the time allotted for such distractions should have resulted to an increase in the improvement of my grades. Logically, that should have been the case, but reality turns out to be the complete opposite. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore to share idle time with, no dance training every night or performance to think about. I should have had more time for pursuing academic excellence—as what our professors continuously remind us to do.

The plans my ideal self planned to achieve was a failure. The realist in me failed to live up to the standards, simple because I lacked the discipline, the will, and the enthusiasm to do so. My grades were mediocre. I was a complete and utter failure.

I often find articles regarding how grades should not define a person, how learning has ceased to be an enjoyable experience due to the stress that running after excellence has been giving, how being in a school for achievers has made grades the yardstick of success, how we became victims by trading our enthusiasm to learn for an uno. I often applaud such articles, for the simple fact that I can see myself in those words. Knowing that several others approve of such articles and relate to the predicament these articles voice out was a breather. It was like pulling a huge thorn out of my heart.

I was not alone.  Someone had the courage to write and voice out the situation that has inadvertently made me and several others see that we have become victims of the determination to maintain the cream of the crop status. A status that has forever been the light that we often find ourselves following and the light we enjoy immensely, despite its burning consequences, like a moth attracted to the light lamp, only to have its wings burned for being so near or aiming to be near, fascinated by the shine its light promises.

Being an emblem of excellence has promised us of a brighter future, one with success hanging unto every step we take and every word we say. Yet, how many college drop-outs and students with mediocre or failing grades had disproved that? Plenty out there, I’m sure. Somehow, this could be a suggestion that an absence of excellent grades in the transcript does not entirely equate failure, doesn’t it? Surely, there must be something else besides the grades, right?

Having such thoughts, however, does not make me feel better about myself. I was merely looking for an excuse for the lack of improvement on my part. I was desperately looking for an explanation that would remove the blame from me, and unto the system. I may be a victim of such circumstance, however, that does not justify that I should take these subjects carelessly, which I did. What a shame.

Somewhere along the years, I had ceased to enjoy learning just for the sake of learning, even for the things that I used to be interested in. I was a history enthusiast, a literature geek, and one who appreciated Science and all the wonders it offers. Yet, here I am, no longer able to read anything about History, of have the time to take a time for enjoying the Classics. Much worse, I have come to a point that I don’t want to learn anything about Science. Ironically, my course demanded me to love it, for I was a student studying Chemistry. The Queen of Science, they often say. Learning about her has been a very tough and rocky ride. I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve shedded tears over her, whether it was for a failing score on an exam, the extensive laboratory reports, or the failing grades.

I want another chance to prove to myself that I can be better than that. I often wonder why I couldn’t even appreciate the number of blessings and chances that have been knocking on my door. I’m not even sure if I had ever allowed those chances to get the most out of me or if I had ever appreciated and put to use the blessings that has been pouring in, waiting.

I may have told myself a number of times that I would change. I sincerely hope that this time, it’s not only about telling but doing.

Staring at the mirror of the past and the present

After decades of being lost or whatever you call it, I have decided to write again or die trying.

I really miss writing, especially the part of it that makes me express myself and my perceptions on things. Staring at this monitor in front of me, I find it so hard to let the words and thoughts flow out like the way they used to before. This is the downside of neglecting doing something for so long. When you try to go back, it’s as if you have to start from scrap. Crap.

I’m not even sure anymore if what I’m writing right now is grammatically correct or not.

When I entered college, I thought I would be able to explore myself more… be more.But from what I am seeing, leaving my comfort zone resulted to leaving a part of my identity as well. Don’t get me wrong, I like who I am right now but I love who and what I was before. I guess I just miss those times wherein I was able to do the things I really like and the things that I was obligated to do… all at the same time. Before, I was able to balance my studies, extra-curricular activities, and hobbies.

Of course, university life is obviously a different level compared to high school but then again, what I’m pointing out is my attitude towards responsibilities, obligations and whatnot. I was never the type who easily accepts failure and being average. Why should I be satisfied when I could do more than what was expected of me? I guess the reason for this kind of outlook was the fact that I have a reputation and an identity to live up to. People expected a lot from me, to be like this and like that, to be able to do this and that.

But cliche as it may seem, it’s true that when you go to a new environment, you have a chance of being a new you. Of course, it wouldn’t be so easy to assume a new identity or personality because more often than not, it’s not easy to pretend being someone else when you have been so used to being the you that you have known. But that’s not the real point here, the point is that with a new environment comes a new set of people. They don’t have the same expectations from you or perceptions about you compared to the people you knew before. They don’t really know who and what you were before.

For people like me, who used those very expectations and reputations to succeed or strive to do what it is that they want to achieve… losing that fuel meant losing the fire.

It’s really frustrating. I hate it that I have come to adhere to the concept of bahala na andpwede na yan. Why am I satisfied with the ordinary when I can do extraordinary? Why can I no longer balance my studies, extra-curricular activities, and hobbies? Why am I like this? Why?

I guess I’m just upset over the fact that I can no longer do or I don’t have the same enthusiasm for the things I love to do before. I miss reading on Literature and History. I miss writing. I miss parliamentary debating (even if it was mentally stressful, lol). I miss watching Anime and Korean dramas. I miss watching documentaries. I miss doing things that  had defined and shaped me as a person.

When I think about it, the only thing that I like to do that I’m still able to do is dancing and I have this feeling that someday, I might have to give that up too because of my studies.

It might seem shallow to be overly affected just because of these simple things but what I’m stressing here is that I am neglecting doing these little things, these very little things that I love doing just because I have to do the things that I am obligated to do but I don’t enjoy doing.

I know that I’m sulking and brooding over this situation that I’m currently in and instead of continuing to do so, I should do something productive or constructive out of it. But that’s the point, it’s as if I lost that part of me, that kind of thinking that I used to have.

Instead of becoming more, I’ve become less.