Another shallow rambling.

I've been in college for 6 months now, and although I am far from complaining, I have been realizing that the more I try to be the person I was in high school, the more I fall deep into the trench of hesitation.

Now that I've taken a better look at myself here in college, I realized I haven't really given my best. I know I have the potential, I have the skill and God forbid I have the time... but then I don't have the drive. I don't have that drive I had in high school, when I knew that I had to do something because the rest of the student population knew I could do it, and what more, they knew I wanted to do it.

In high school I always thought I was unbeatable. I guess I blame a part of this to the fact that I practically grew up in my school, and everyone knew me. Heck, I was known. And I loved it. I was led to believe that things won't be the same without me and that the student body would virtually be lost with my absence.

But then I entered college. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, but the first thing I learned in college was that it won't always be about me. The world doesn't revolve around me, people could live without me, and (here comes the bitter truth) the people I was positive would miss me wouldn't - at least not as much as I do them. I guess it shocked me too much because it didn't just humble me -  which is what people will become when they realize these things - but it destroyed my faith in myself.

I turned quiet. I blended in the crowd. I became no one.

But that's not me.

At least that's not what my younger self was.

Untitled. Random teenage whim.

24 11 09


I don't get why he likes me. I mean, liking him is practically unavoidable, seeing as how girls do double takes whenever they pass by us at the mall, or toss him paper napkins whenever the two of us dine outside.


Us.


I like how that sounds.


I digress.


I really cannot for the life of me understand why someone like him would find home in someone like me. Granted, my looks have somehow mellowed and turned me into a better looking duck, but I'm still far from looking like that swan they talk about. My hair has tamed a bit, if at all; my smile has grown, my eyes have twinkled, my body began to embrace ladyhood...


Yes, I look decent; but I'm not beautiful. Not even halfway there.


And so I live each day with hesitance. 


He hasn't even met my friends yet! Hasn't even seen me with them. Hasn't seen how plain I look like compared to their gorgeous bodies and faces, infectious laughter, abnormally slick hair. I stand out from them like a toothpick would stand out in a group of Q-tips.


It's unbeara-


"Hey, what are you doing?" She froze in her tracks, allowing her mind to come up with something that would seem plausible an excuse. "Writing, for... y'know... whatever it is I have to write for..." He wiggled his eyebrows in response. "ENGLISH! I'm. Doing. This. For. My. English. Paper." She punctuated each word with her fingers on her mouse closing the tabs on the computer.

"In your blog?" She turned crimson and cleared her throat. "Why, yes!" She managed to squeak out. "And you suppose I believe you?" "Wai-"

But before she could do anything he took the mouse and opened the last pages accessed. Finally, he stumbled upon the drafts page and saw the half-written scribble on her fears. Three moods passed by his face, which bewildered her. Playfulness, confusion, and - finally - comprehension.

He highlighted the whole thing and typed one carefully thought-of statement. One statement that she would - for days - look at and marvel. And smile upon.

I love this girl because she's what she is, and I promise to make her feel beautiful every single day.

Sometimes I fear too much.

I fear that thought of realizing that everyone and everything I hold special to me as of this moment will come off as trivial, as immature, and as too simplistic when I get older.

I fear that one day people will demand of me and I will not be able to meet their needs; not because I do not want to but because I cannot, not because I am unwilling but because I am incapable.

I fear that I will disappoint. It is not so much that I fear disappointing the people that surround me but it is the thought of disappointing myself that gives me weak knees and Pacific Oceans for palms. For a kid with dreams that - right now - seem impossible but probable, seem improbable but possible, I fear that the I of the future would crush the hopes and aspirations of the I in the present.

I fear that moment in time when I could've done something great but I didn't because I was unsure. I fear that the moment has already passed, and it will never come again, not even to whiz by me through the fleeting glance of a stranger.

I fear giving my heart to someone not because it is much too fragile but because I do not know what someone does when someone else is in possession of the said heart.

I fear deception. I fear failure. I fear fear in itself.

Maybe someday I will talk about my strengths, about courage, about solidity.

Maybe someday.

But not now.