“Matatapang, matatalino, walang takot, kahit kanino.” I knew these words would become my mantra as I stepped into college. I envisioned myself with red hair, a maroon peplum top and white pants on my first day of school, strolling through the Sunken Garden.
On graduation day, I’ll be wearing the traditional sablay over a white Filipiniana dress, taking pictures with the sunflowers at the University Avenue with my friends and classmates. I pictured it out already, but everything shattered when I saw I didn’t make the cut. Konting-konti nalang — sayang mãng cầu sayang.
Out of all the uncertainties in life, this was my one certainty: to lớn become an iskolar ng bayan. It was a dream since I was eight, and I molded myself to lớn be deserving of that title, working for it for a decade, but still, it wasn’t enough.
I came back to lớn UP after ten years. My first visit was when I was eight years old, and it was when my mom told bu I should study there. When I arrived, I couldn’t help but cry, the pain of not passing was still there because this should have been my life — riding the Ikot jeep and exploring the entire campus.
Among the thousands who also didn’t pass, what am I crying about? Well, it’s hard when you’ve dedicated your life to lớn something and didn’t achieve it. I always reminded myself not to lớn slack off because I wanted to lớn be in UP. Para rơi UP. Hindi ako pwedeng basta-basta bác sĩ.
“Gusto mo talaga rơi UP ano?” A close friend of mine asked and I smiled ruefully. Sobra-sobra. Hindi ko mãng cầu nga nakuha ‘yung taga UP, pati tía naman UP. I laughed at that — it became an inside joke among my friends.
I try to lớn console myself by thinking that maybe UP wasn’t meant for bu, that another school might offer better opportunities and personal growth. But deep down, I know I’m just covering up the fact that I wish it was UP. I know UP could have shaped bu just as well.
Pero sino kaya ako ngayon kung rơi UP ako nag-aral? Anong klaseng tao kaya ako? Sino-sino ‘yung mga makikilala ko? But I know these questions will remain unanswered forever, and that’s fine. It hurts, but I can’t unstitch these threads. I will be okay — not today, but I will be.
The grief I felt for UP was more phàn nàn just not passing; it was lượt thích attending a loved one’s funeral. I know my life didn’t over when I didn’t get into my dream school, but a part of bu died that day.