---------------i know---------------

when i feel someone is trying to break my heart,
i would tell myself..

h o p i n g

---locked thoughts----

Time flashes so fast..shorter days..longer nights..few days more before the last month of the year starts..I am reviewing my life, the changes, the untouched..people I accepted, persons I rejected..
I learn to question my self these past days..
Am I good enough? Or should I stop trying to be one?

I trust myself, but some people makes me doubt my capacity..
I love myself, but some people makes me doubt my own understanding of the subject..
I believe in commitment, but I fear to live rules from hurting anyone..

I am trying to listen but I am not consistent in hearing. I am tired of this feeling- being asked why am I like this, why can’t I be like that..? So many expectations, so high standards, too much demands.
I thought I have made someone happy enough, yet, I realized I can never be the only source of her happiness..
Some facts hurt more every time I reject them. The more I become weaker, the lesser courage I hold on to..

a glimpse on my story

Way back in high school we had this creative writing subject. Our teacher asked us to make a journal. In that journal, we will be sharing our experiences, our daily activities as possible—only she will know every word we put in there. It is a requirement, and she’ll be gathering our journals every quarter end.

The day before the 1st quarter submission finally came. The thing is, my journal is still blank. Obviously, it was a mess, leaving only 2-3 sentences on each date. And as expected, she left a note--____, I know you did this hastily, I am expecting more from you.

The fact that I hate journal-writing made it hard for me to put my words together. I was pissed, and so I wrote..”I hate journal-writing..what do I get if I pour myself over a piece of paper?- a dying pen, tired hands..and should I trust my sentiments to someone who doesn’t even know me..”..I wrote as if my teacher was dumb. I know she’s expecting to read beautiful lines considering the fact I am one of the writers who made our school paper. And so she replied, “_________, don’t put your talent to waste, no one is forcing you to write, the drive must come from within..”

I know the teacher was disappointed that time. It’s this attitude that most people in the class never questioned. I am one of the class jokers but when I started to keep quiet no one dares to mess with me. I am not a trouble-maker though, you have 2 options-- either to understand me or leave me as I am, don’t ask, don’t push.

Now, the 3rd quarter came..I started to express myself in that journal—but in a pessimistic way. .all my pieces were so insensitive, I pointed some things I hate and the stupid things most of my classmates do. Those writings have no heart. So my teacher commented on my page, “(______), you’re such a pessimist, you seem to hate the world and everything about it..don’t expect them to feel the way you do, don’t expect them to be as hard as you.. you are individual persons, unique from each one..”

I smiled. I said to myself,-- what does this woman wanted to find in my journal? She doesn’t understand her own words..journal writing is for expression—may it be the light or the dark way..if this is what I feel at the moment, should I keep it inside me?..

On the 4th and final quarter, I decided to write not for my own sentiments..I made pieces pleasing to her eyes..I have no choice..i f I don’t , I’ll have a low remark..and that time, she was amazed and satisfied with my last pages. She put her last note, “ now, you know how it is to love and express your thoughts creatively, keep it up..(sweet advices follow)”..

The realization awaken my senses, sometimes we just have to keep with other standards and leave our own selves for safety reasons..in that instance, I made pieces hiding my dark side just to get a good remark, just to please my teacher..but the fact remains, she can’t change this student she had before..she’s one of the worst teachers I had.. she ‘s a teacher but not an educator.