April 18, 2013

Of Chastity

A letter to a friend

Dear _____,

I don't hate you.

To design, it's what I wanted to do in life, to make someone happy because they are wearing my name. To create, To color, To make people proud, those are the things I always dreamed of, I always dreamed of becoming the next Alexander Mcqueen or the next Amina Aranaz of the Philippines. I always love to hear; "I love your creations". Love, they told me it's always the key to success but what if it's not enough? Because It so happened that I'm not the only one dreaming of Designing, millions around the globe pursue it and that's always the challenge. Some girls would think that fashion design is easy, it's just knowing the patterns, creating them, mix them and tada. However, that is not the case, it's a false assurance. There's always a Competition, economists told us so.

I was pissed, I really was. Not for you, but for myself. I felt how stupid I am in the name of fashion design. It's painful, I'm not yet even starting to construct. It's as if no one ever supported me with the only thing I thought I'm good at. I've lost my wings to fly and I don't know if I could ever fly up again. There's so much self-pity going on inside my head, I'm trying to fight it.

It's my love for it, that drove to write this letter. You're a good friend and I always believe in you, I always knew you can do anything. I am jealous, my mom even told me you're talented, and I wish I could be equally talented. It's sad I can't grasp it.

As a business student, I know these things, even if I'm not really good at my class. I am aware that these kinds of things happen. The problem is I don't want to compete with you, I value our friendship, from the moment I started teaching you how to dye shorts to compensate the teaching you imparted me with the ribbons. I am writing this because I lose. It's always hard to admit the 'loser' word. I am a loser, and you slapped it very slowly in my face. ---- "Mas matibay ka" (Translated to english as "You're better"). It made me wonder if I really ever had the wings? or If I was just building it in the air? Am I really made for this Job?

The truth is; I don't know where to stand anymore. I hope you understand me. I'm sorry.

Love, Anna