Unglamorous 18
It’s 5:39 p.m. Twelve hours from now I’d most likely still be awake, exercising my thumb by scrolling mindlessly through five-second comedy tweets, living vicariously through influencers on YouTube and TikTok.
If you think this is living, suit yourself.
I had big plans for myself when I thought about turning 18. I would spend my last year of high school on extracurricular activities: collect scoops for my school’s newspaper, write and direct a school play, join debate competitions, study, study, study for college applications, and, in my spare time, spend evenings out with friends under the neon signs of Cebu’s streets. Then, once I’d exhausted everything I had to do in high school, I’d fly away to a hoity-toity university in Manila and do it all again.
You already know what happened next.
Being a teenager in the midst of a pandemic is rarely discussed. The time off is supposed to feel good. When it all started, we thought to ourselves, “When this ends, we still have time. And not a minute will be spent resting.”
That was because we didn’t need rest yet. I was one of those who made plans to go on road trips, swim in remote beaches, eat delicacies from all over the country and the world even, “when this pandemic ends.”
All, presumably, at the ripe age of 18.
But every day before turning 18, the blandness of it all began creeping in.
Days passed by as if they never happened at all. I drained every single source of entertainment on Netflix, YouTube, Twitter, Instagram. I spent hours flat on my back trying to fall asleep for lack of anything substantial to do. Even school, previously the object of most of my fervor, became just another thing I had to go through. I would finish my modules early, only to face the same old nothingness for the rest of the day.
And the unrealized, unexplained toll that took on me? Where once I could devour 200 books in summer, now I can barely stomach a few pages. Where once I could devote hours to conversations with my friends, now I have become too lazy to even respond. I used to write endlessly about my experiences, but now I write about strangers and imagined people.
And every day I’ve tried to instill in myself the usual Filipino response to mental health: I should feel lucky. I’m fed well. I’m sheltered. I have the freedom to be bored.
But this can be worse, in fact.
Because I want to escape. I see people my age flaunt on social media their being reckless and putting themselves at risk, and all I can think of is: “Why can’t I do that?” I’m approached by thoughts so intrusive, so vile that they stop me from moving at times. I don’t understand how I can be so anxious, so worried, so sad all the time when, all the time as well, I am protected, cared for, and loved.
I don’t know why I want to escape when there are so many reasons for me to stay.
Many Filipinos don’t realize this, but you don’t know your mental health is suffering until you’re forced to confront it. Until your eye is twitching for two days due to lack of sleep, because you stayed up worrying about college applications. Until you catch yourself staring at the wall for five minutes thinking about how horrible your future will be. Until you start erasing the dreams you’ve listed down, not because you’ve accomplished them but because you don’t have enough faith in yourself to even think of achieving them.
Even with all the mental health awareness going on, no one ever prepares you to realize these things. No one prepares you to talk to someone about them.
Back in March 2020, recovering from a failed relationship, I wrote in a poem, “I think I can disclose to myself that I am somewhat better.” Fast forward to May 2021, I wrote, “You grow up and you face your fate/I’ve grown to hate both.”
That sentiment still rings true, especially since I’m turning 19 in the coming month. I have no more plans for it, not even a simple birthday celebration. The month after that, I’d be in college, but not in any way I had expected to be in college. I don’t know how long this feeling will last. Honestly, I wanted to write these thoughts when things had gotten better. But if I’m learning anything from the pandemic, it’s that sometimes things don’t go the way you plan them. Might as well write while I still have the energy to.
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Aidan Bernales, 18, is a graduate of Sacred Heart School-Ateneo de Cebu and is (hopefully) an incoming freshman at Ateneo de Manila University. Aside from writing essays, he posts his poems on Instagram (@poemsbyaids) and songs on Spotify.
