I am merely close to a hatched egg. I have small, undeveloped wings, a twisted mind, and a bent spine. My motivation is the exact opposite of an egg that is yet to be hatched. It is one huge grizzly bear. One moment it is heavy and wild, seconds later, it hibernates for roughly seven months.
This is pretty embarrassing, but I am scribbling this when I should be reviewing for my psychology exam, and the idea of writing this came into my mind while I was seated in math class. You see, most days, I just can’t seem to find the joy in studying. For art’s sake, let’s be real, there are days that I badly want to be a successful psychiatrist. But there are more days that I just wish to write, to paint, and to sail the seas.
If you are one of my professors, if you are a schoolmate, if you are a friend of mine, if you are a family member, and you are reading this, I want to apologize for my inconsistency, for the times that I have failed to meet your standards, and for the times that I have failed to make you proud. These words are being written by a girl with a stormy mind—no, no, not a brainstorming mind, but a stormy mind of conflicts and uncertainties.
I am no “beauty and brains.” Do not get fooled by the glasses that are hiding my nearly unhinged sight. The only thing that I have perfectly mastered is the art of self-loathing. For hundreds of weeks I have hated my skin, my hair, my face, my height, my weight. I hated my intellectual ability. I even lost count of the times I had disappointed myself.
There were many times that seemed like I was the sun, as my internal dialogue kept orbiting my inabilities and insecurities. To me, the universe was filled with the dusts of doubts, clouds of bottled anxieties, and ocean waves of shame.
Believe me when I say that I have not fully soared yet, for I am merely a hatched egg. I am only beginning to heal, to live, to fly.
And I ask you only this: Please do not pin high hopes on me. It may not seem palpable, but I will be ten times hurt if I disappoint you.
Do not set high expectations for me.
I am merely close to a hatched egg.
Janylle Chelsea B. Flores, 18, lives in Tarlac.
Stories from the young Filipino
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