YOUNG VOICE
Alternatives
Seek for alternatives
And whether that someone deserved the twinkling stars or not, it doesn’t matter, the point is since it was given to her, it simply means it wasn’t meant for me.
The last school bell rang. I grabbed the straps of my backpack. While heaving along the six thick books inside the backpack, I briskly walked towards the assembly line. One by one the school’s campus, the canteen and the playground were cleared and the classrooms were gradually filled. It was a start of another ten hours of screeching chalks and limitless pop quizzes.
The last school bell rang. My Nanay sat on one of the yellow-painted steel benches. She turned to her seatmates and passed time while listening to the latest juicy gossips. One by one the school’s waiting shed reached full house with its usual patrons, the mothers and the yayas. It was a start of another ten hours of warmed buttocks and limited ideas to suppress boredom.
I was already in fourth year high school, yet having my Nanay waiting for me the entire day just because I might have another anxiety attack, seemed like I was more of a kinder pupil.
I never enjoyed high school. I was struggling in the quicksand of rivalry, competition and regressing self-esteem. I always opted for the best, to be at the top. I knew I can, I am not a desperate dreamer. I only aspire for achievements found along my own distinct path. But somehow, a new face decided to show up and took center stage. The usual plot thickens and poor little me was left unseen at the back stage because the new girl was prettier, closer to the teachers, much more confident, but was considerably to my humblest belief, less smarter but befriended me to tutor her.
And so, I got depressed, dismayed and frustrated. Soon, I had numerous intermittent episodes of rapid heartbeats, quick respirations and preoccupied thoughts about death and failure; these were symptoms of an anxiety attack, according to my psychiatrist. Yes, I got that worse opting to seek professional help and even taking anti-anxiety drugs just to pharmacologically relax my agitations.
Just before the recess bell rang, I felt another attack coming. My hands became cold and sweaty and it seemed I couldn’t have breathed enough air. I excused myself from class and proceeded to the clinic. The nurse called the waiting shed to let in my Nanay, her presence and a fourth of a bromazepam tablet that would temporarily free me from my fears, from my frustrations, from my anxiety.
My friends, I spent my entire senior year in high school living with insecurities. I dreamt of the stars, of reaching higher than anybody could. There was nothing wrong. Hoping and aspiring are healthy activities since they act as coal, fueling the human spirit. But I blinded myself with the reality that whether I like it or not, there will always be someone who will reach for the same star and may even get there faster than I can possibly go. And whether that someone deserved the twinkling stars or not, it doesn’t matter, the point is since it was given to her, it simply means it wasn’t meant for me. She was made editor-in-chief of our school’s newspaper and I was only her assistant. It cut deep, it hurt because I really love writing and I thought I was good at it.
I competed and when I was forced to surrender, I lingered on self-pity. I began blaming myself for having befriended her and helping her to easily overtake me. I was frustrated and disbelieving knowing that I had everything planned, that I would grab those opportunities instead of her gulping them whole.
But look at where it got me? My Nanay who could have spent the entire day tending to her beautiful orchids at home or enjoying herself in a discounted day at the department store, wastes her time patiently being with me literally joining me in school for ten hours, to run to my side every time my anxiety attacks would occur. I spent every night crying, every teardrop recounted the years of regret. Nga-a tanan sa iya lang ya ginhatag? Ako ya, deserving man ko di ba? But what I did not know, what I wasn’t aware of, is in the real world no one is indispensable. There will always be people who will be better or who will dominate your dreams and live the life you have imagined. These people in return will also have portions of their lives, unrealized because someone even better and even more cunning has beaten them in the race.
With all that had transpired I realized that when we plan for the actualizations of our dream, we shouldn’t only plan for what we have to do in order to make it, but also plan for the alternatives, what we will do when luck refuses to stay at our side.
Little by little I was able to open my eyelids, stretched my ears wider and realize that I should not compete and compare myself with others because there is no 100% assurance that I will always reach or maintain the top position. I should simply go on believing in my dreams and reaching for the stars but with an alternative plan in mind if ever I would fail.
I now write weekly for a renowned regional newspaper and an editor in a university publication. Yes, I did not reach my star in becoming editor-in-chief of our high school paper. But, I struggled to form an alternative, to seek another venue. And here I am.
The last school bell rang. I gripped the straps of my shoulder bag tighter and while heaving along nursing textbooks I briskly walked towards our lecture room, optimistic and smiling for another ten hours.
The last school bell rang. My mother did not hear it. She’s at home, tending to her beautiful orchids.
My fellow youth, learn from my example.
Dream.
Believe.
And seek for alternatives.
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