Dear you
Long ago, I had this really awesome dream about being a journalist, I would want to be a fashion or travel journalist, writing for magazines, being in love with arts and the history of the world. I want to be inclined with something that doesn't necessarily conform. I like the idea of being free; talking about bizarre movies, getting some cappuccinos over artsy cafes, sleeping by the beach or at a countryside, getting that liz gilbert vibes (yup, the one who wrote 'eat, pray, love'). I have dreamt of this even before hipsters or hippies became mainstream. After high school graduation, my friends already expected me to leave and study in manila for my creative writing dreams, I was too passionate about it. I even wrote it in one of my old blogs before. I was about to become something big. After the years of keeping secret journals, and unpublished writings during my younger years, I'm finally going to expose it to the world - but that didn't happen.
I gave it all up, to make way for something that is of total opposite. I, instead, enrolled to something that would lead me to become a guardian of public interest or in simple terms - a certified public accountant. Yes, a degree made up of standards, away from being hippie, artsy or free. I never excelled on this. Oftentimes, I question myself if I'm still on the right track, because I feel lost, I couldn't find my way back. Accountancy is never a joke, have you ever went to school tired of studying all night, really praying and doing your best, just to be able to prove your self-worth and turning out to be never good enough? When at times, you'd just like to run away and never come back from the messes you've made, but you just can't. To you reading this blog at this moment, I have felt quadruple times of hurt more than what I've just said. Oftentimes, when I go home directly from school, I cry secretly on my bed and ask the questions: Why can't we just be like the books I've read? Or why can't life be as superb as the goosebumps you feel when you're in love? Why can we not talk for long hours over coffee or pizzas, telling stories of the place we've been to or would want to be? Why can't we live for the rest of our lives doing the things we love while actually being in love with life and all that happiness we feel inside? Then, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
Why am I telling you this?
Our story, just like my old colorful dream, ended beautifully when I chose to go the other way. I chose the unexpected and some people even mocked me for it, for I was too weak and dumb for this kind of track. I was never 'that girl'. I am, by far, the most ordinary girl you'll sit beside with in an accounting class. You and I, was meant for adventures and unending giggles over silly things, and as to Avril's lyrics: we were meant to be, supposed to be ---- but we lost it. I might never gonna talk to you the same way before and even when we've promised to. However, after all these lonely musings about choosing the sad part, have you ever thought of why I chose it? of why I chose to continue living this life of not being good enough? because somewhere in this hopelessness and heartaches, I was able to show you that even the girl who thinks of herself as the most ordinary and undeserving, could somehow prove that she's not what she thinks she is. There are mornings, when I wake up and congratulate myself for still waving that red banner. Somehow, I find it ironic that it actually gives me the same feeling, as when I was too passionate about writing and non-conformity. So, if you ever find yourself in doubt of your choice, tell yourself; "it might have been worth it". Opportunity costs.
My dear, I might never gonna talk to you every night anymore. But, I assure you, when we meet again, I am not the same person as you once had me. We'll gladly say our 'hellos' , then 'all the stories we've been to', would eventually be replaced by 'the stories we went through'.
It will be worth it. Don't give up.
With love,
Anna
P.S. I'm an accountancy student and I will let this letter be exposed to the world.
My dear, I might never gonna talk to you every night anymore. But, I assure you, when we meet again, I am not the same person as you once had me. We'll gladly say our 'hellos' , then 'all the stories we've been to', would eventually be replaced by 'the stories we went through'.
It will be worth it. Don't give up.
With love,
Anna
P.S. I'm an accountancy student and I will let this letter be exposed to the world.
