I grew up being fond of and surrounded by people. I was not the type of kid who would sneak into my room, sit on the chair, and spend my entire day drowning myself in things only I could understand. On weekends, holidays, and school breaks, I would often find myself with my elder brother and his friends making traps for birds in a forest far from home. I remember them shooing me away, telling me it was too dangerous for a kid like me to be there. But as hard-headed as I was, I did not comply. Besides, they were minors at that time just as I was; what difference did that make?
At school, I never isolated myself from my peers. I had been to our school library, but not because I wanted to pick up a book and shove my consciousness into the realm of fiction so I could hide from everyone and forget about everything. My life did not mirror those usual TV shows portraying introverted protagonists who are always the main target of big bullies.
I knew I was not like that; I would never become like that. I could not even last a single minute without opening my mouth and teasing some of my classmates. Back in the day, aside from my parents, my life and happiness primarily depended on the kids I had made friends with in school. They were the people who played a major role in molding the personality I have today.
However, despite all the circles I had belonged to, I could only count with my fingers the people with whom I could talk about the things that I really wanted to. Perhaps during my high school days, there were only two of them who truly loved the ambiguous notion that revolves around conspiracy theories and their nature. The rest of the people say that such discussions are exclusive to geeks only.
Today, as I thrive on my college journey, I am starting to accept that no one in my circle really seems to be showing an intense interest in matters that I fancy as well. Because if there had been one, I would have already noticed it.
I also have the passion to share my take on political and economic issues. But I always end up asking myself: Who even likes to talk about the latest political affairs, constitutional breaches, and economic deterioration other than me? Most likely, no one.
Most, if not all, teenagers and adolescents of this generation put off these topics because they believe they are only for older ones. To them, it’s boring, and including it in their daily conversation will only make them sound serious and old.
It’s unexpected, but there’s always a challenge in looking for someone who shares interests similar to ours. Most of the friends that we are likely to find today only love to talk about celebrity gossip and scandals they have come across online. They only want to gossip about their own friend’s toxic relationship setup, their loving sweethearts and their issues, and the newfangled stuff they bought from malls and online shops. The moment we try to open up a discussion that does not suit their taste, they can promptly find a way to divert the topic of the conversation. Of course, with a crease on their foreheads.
In these times when people around me have become more immersed in petty works that can only benefit themselves and potentially debase someone, and when they have already been ripped off of their ability to listen to and engage in prudent discussions, I write. I realized that it is only more sophisticated to expend my time with a pen and paper while making sense of the world around me instead of squandering it with people who only live out their ignorance.
However, opting to write alone does not mean completely cutting off my connection with them, but rather choosing to spend more time with myself. It means culling my personal space and peace of mind over any other choices, considering that conversing with them takes up an immense amount of energy. By doing this, I am giving myself more room to foster my cognitive and emotional aspects.
It’s hard to be with people who do not know or lack the capacity to understand the value and worth of knowledge and awareness in societal situations. To think that more and more people are becoming too self-concerned, only wanting to feed and satiate their voracious desires, and bypassing what’s good for them is alarming. Hence, isolating ourselves from the world sometimes to focus on what’s important for us is never wrong.
Nevertheless, I am still the same person as I was before. I still build bridges to connect with others, yet I am now more circumspect in all the words I impart to the people around me. I tell them what they want to hear, and I write what they don’t want me to say.
People write for a legion of reasons: fun, money, pastime, fame. But others say they write because it’s their passion. Some claim that they write as self-expression. A few do it because it’s a career they want to pursue. And here I am, writing because no one listens to the insightful things I want to say.
Writing has now become my buddy. Although it’s sometimes exhausting to be with him, I don’t really mind.
You, why do you write?
John Darren Garduque, 20, is from Cebu City. He loves the silence.