"Focus on your work; wala ka namang mapapala kung magsusulat ka online. It's hard to gain supporters that will truly support your journey." In just a snap, he crushed my hope and determination to continue writing.
I knew that writing would be hard for me because I have other priorities in life. Sometimes I wonder, What if I pursue studying journalism? Would I become a successful journalist or writer? But whenever I recall those memories, I remember that this path that I chose was the only path that would give my family a secure future.
"Sinusubukan ko lang kung maayos pa ang imagination ko. Wala naman akong balak na bumalik sa pagsusulat, " I lied. Tatlong taon na akong nangangarap na makapag publish ng libro pero ni-minsan ay hindi 'ko magawang ipublish dahil nahihiya ako.
Nahihiya ako sa sarili ko dahil hindi ako katulad ng iba. Nahihiya ako sa sarili ko dahil paulit-ulit na akong nabigo sa pagsusulat. I'm just an underrated writer who wants to inspire many people.
"Harvey..." Kasalukuyan s'yang susubo ng pagkain nang tawagin ko ang pangalan n'ya. Napalingon s'ya sa akin at ibinababa ang kutsara upang matuon ang atensyon sa akin.
My heart began to beat rapidly. I clenched my fist, and I must admit that I felt terrified about how he would react if I told him about my plans.
For three years, I became someone who always followed his wants. I always do what he thinks is right, until I forget who I am. I forget Airiel, who was always willing to sacrifice something just to get what she desired.
"I'm planning to publish books," I uttered, and I saw how his face turned into a dark aura.
As expected, he disapproves of my plans. I told him that I have supporters online while I'm secretly bleeding, but those reasons weren't enough to get his approval. I have loved him for more than three years, but hindi ito ang pagmamahal na inaasam ko. Ang pag mamahal na nag bibigay ng kalayaan sa mga bagay na gusto kong gawin at hindi ang pilitin ako sa bagay na kaya kong gawin ngunit hindi naman ako masaya.
"P'wede po bang papicture?" I slowly lifted my head, a wide smile plastered on my face. This is me. This is who I am.
"Sure," I replied, and she took a picture with me. I held the book that I signed, and my heart fluttered when I saw how her eyes sparkled.
Yes, I became a published author. I'm done being the character of an author who controls my life—a sculpture of a sculptor, but a writer of my own story and a sculpture of my own.
And now I'm ready to sail alone in the field of literature, following the right path.
