If I Can… (My Last High School Year Diary)

I can’t stop the water going out in my eyes when I saw my Form 138, it’s not a grade that I had but a section I’m belong. I cried for three days and I feel isolated we’re been together for almost eight years and for the last year of my high school it’s happened. Even the girls are my classmates in elective before, still I feel different my best and closest friends that I’m afraid to lose and too much uncertainties that continuous coming in my mind.

First day of class, I tried to sit on the back chair of the class room. Mostly the boy’s classmate didn’t know me and they look me as in the interrogation. I joined a group of girls and boys it’s a feeling of exploration for me being a simple student. Cutting classes that once I tried together with my groups and going to a house’s to watch a movie. I’m happy that there’s a drafting subject so I informed my teacher that I wanted to transfer unfortunately she refused. Being a cafeteria and Restaurant Management and Services is not my dream. I’m not angry with her even she didn’t allowed me, since I get frustrated putting my art desire in carving a radish, carrots, tomatoes, etc. to design food and tables.

Conversation under a cacao tree regarding the issues of religions, politics and some idealistic topics. A time that some of my boys classmate get confused that I will be an artist designer or a writer. I feel affection for drawing since I’m a child and the age of fourteen I’m eager to write poetry. Our own class prophecy that once I wrote and revised by him under this tree. Behind my El Filibusterismo book that I asked to signs and leave notes from my friends and classmates. My teacher in Filipino that told us to write an essay with a theme of ten years from now on, my sentences begin with this “Halos hindi ko marinig ang aking pangalan sa lakas ng palakpakan.” I wrote that I received a Palanca Award for writing; because of this my teacher told a class to give a three count of applause. An overwhelming experienced from all of them, time that my hand didn’t stop in drawing and writing. Breathing in my own world of arts and literatures are the oxygen that keeping me alive in that time.

Days are tearing in the calendar, feeling of excitement behind the worries for the next journey of my life. Every moment is a special day, Junior and Senior Prom, Baccalaureate Mass, then our graduation day. Even he’s not my first dance during our prom; the beat of my heart is louder than the sweet music playing. I feel the coldness and shaking of his hand, and then I decided to finish my awaiting dance in the middle. Unpredictable love, I don’t know how I will call it. Then it is the start of his running away from me and I decided not to follow him.

One by one they are calling our names, the sign of a beginning of our new journeys. No tears but only laughter’s.