The Pacifist Fights

I am living a lonely life in a chaotic city called Manila. It's been half a year that I have been suffering from something I have failed to do, to fight for. I'm in my seventeenth year of exploring the ocean I consider life, big and wild. I'm in the mid part of something I just can't still figure out completely.

I used to modify myself as a wave that climbs up as if I will make it, and creeps down like I have nothing else to lose. This mask I personally made portrays how I judge my life. And I’m wearing this not to hide as how masks are really for, but to effortlessly introduce myself to the world. 

The liquefied prints right under my eyes show the tears I cried almost all alone. Wounded and bruised, I still keep a faith and go through the hardship so I could survive. I recycle these tears into bits of inspiration, instead of propagating the idea of turning into a harsh person. The black portions are the destructive perspectives on how I see life and the wrong things about it. Then the thick, reddish, and intense eyebrows signify things that I carry on my sleeve- my potentialities and all the other things I can do despite my downfalls. But amidst all these, the wave reigns into my entity. Like a wave that behaves the “hardcore“ way, I am an aspiring dreamer that continues to struggle, climbing up then creeping down in a deep wide ocean.

But I found something in the middle of the things I got and lost. It is losing the chance but not the lesson. I have learned that having no mistake will not make you try again. For failure doesn't mean you have to give up, it is made to make you stronger the next time you face life's uncertainties.

then the professor gave this an impression: "Very poetic." And I was like: "(Thank you sir.)"  #