Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, like raindrops tracing forgotten paths, pooling at my collarbone.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the blurred figure of myself trembling under the weight of emotions I could no longer carry.
My shoulders shook in rhythm with my ragged breaths, and the sight of them—the very proof of my weakness—stung more than any words could.
My vision blurred.
So I wiped my tears with the back of my sleeve, but it didn’t stop the flood.
Nganong lisod kaayo akong kinabuhi?
How many nights had I forced myself to be strong, to swallow the tears before they had the chance to fall?
For months—maybe even years—I’d trained myself not to cry, convinced that showing pain meant defeat.
But tonight, the dam broke.
My heart was heavy, as if every burden I had ever carried decided to settle in my chest at once.
The weight was suffocating, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find my breath.
Depression had become my secret companion—a shadow that followed me, clinging to my steps like a relentless ghost.
For over a year, I fought it alone, wearing my brightest smile like armor to shield the cracks beneath.
But now, in the solitude of this dimly lit room, the truth spilled out with my tears. I tried to quiet my sobs, pressing my hands tightly against my mouth.
Dapat walay makadungog,* I reminded myself, not wanting the walls of this boarding house to betray my breakdown.
Physically, I was drained. Emotionally, I was a shell.
I had nothing left to give.
Lamia na kaayo e undang.
I want to drop everything and run away from it all. My studies, the pressure, the expectations… it was too much.
My hands shook as I clutched at my shirt, my body trembling with the overwhelming desire to give up. Dili nako, sakto na.
But then, as if on cue, a vision of my mother appeared in my mind—her weathered hands, rough from the earth, planting seeds in the scorching sun.
Her back bent, sweat rolling down her forehead, yet always, 'always,' with a smile on her face.
My heart twisted painfully. How could I give up when she never had?
The image of her—tired but hopeful—cracked something inside me.
I remembered her words, her dreams for me, the ones she whispered when the nights were long and the days even longer.
Unsaon na man ang akong mga pangandoy nako? Ang pangandoy ni mama para sa akoa?
The tears came harder now, unstoppable.
My sobs filled the silence of the room as I sank to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest.
In that moment, the weight of her love bore down on me like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge.
I couldn't give up.
Not on my dreams, and certainly not on hers. She had sacrificed too much—more than I could ever repay.
And while my body screamed for rest, something deeper stirred within me, something stronger than the pain.
I wiped my tears once again, this time with more determination.
Yes, life is unbearable at times. Yes, I am tired—exhausted, even.
But I cannot stop now.
I have dreams to fulfill, not just for myself, but for the woman who has loved me more fiercely than anyone else in this world.
And most of all, I have my God—my ever-present refuge. Even when I feel most alone, He has never abandoned me.
His presence surrounds me, lifting me when I cannot lift myself.
As I sat there on the cold floor, the air heavy with the remnants of my sobs, something shifted.
I looked back at my reflection.
It was no longer the face of a girl beaten down by life’s trials. It was the face of someone who had just made a choice—to keep fighting.
My tear-streaked face began to soften.
A hint of a smile curled at the corners of my lips.
Not the smile of someone who had conquered her battles, but of someone who knew she wasn’t fighting them alone.
Thank you, Lord.
The words left my mouth like a prayer, quiet but filled with gratitude.
For my mother, for my strength, for the simple fact that I still had breath in my lungs, and faith in my heart.
The battle wasn’t over, far from it.
I knew there would be more nights like this, more tears, more moments of doubt. But tonight, I had found my resolve again.
I will keep going.
I will fight for my dreams. For my mother. For myself. Because no matter how dark life becomes, there is always light to be found—even if it’s just a flicker. And that flicker is enough to keep me going.
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POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
