Via 𝘑𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘦 & 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘢 𝘗𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯

Illustrated by Johanna Merin Redillas & Layout by Janine Paye

As the tassel flips on my cap, my emotions are thrown into turmoil—I feel the urge to leap for joy, for at last my hard work has received its reward, yet I am also gripped by an unfathomable fear of whether I will make it.

Six years sounds like a long time when written on paper, but somehow it passed in a blink. Who knew my affiliation with this institution would end on a random Sunday, March 29, 2026—a day that would carry the weight of my heartfelt gratitude, pain, and successes? The same gates that once felt intimidating slowly became familiar. The hallways that once echoed with strangers’ voices eventually filled with the laughter of people who would become part of my life.

The 7:30 a.m. sun that kissed my face, the pastil that filled our hurried stomachs, the greenery that washed stress into quiet tranquility, the unexpected friendships formed, the crushes that broke a few hearts, and the subjects that sometimes felt like a sword pointed straight at my brain—all of these completed a daily routine that I will now spend a lifetime looking back on. The long days spent juggling academics, extracurriculars, and responsibilities were days I once prayed would end quickly—moments I wished to escape from in the face of reality. Yet somehow, those very days passed by in nothing more than a blink.

I remember the moments in between—the ones that never make it into certificates or awards. The inside jokes whispered during lectures, the group chats that turned into lifelines during stressful weeks, and the silent understanding shared between classmates when everyone realized the test was harder than expected.

My heart, painted in shades of blue and cracked by quiet pain, still whispers the names of my past motivations—the girl who once made me feel safe, understood, and cared for, opening parts of my heart I had never noticed before, only for those feelings to dissolve into false hope. The boy I once believed I would spend forever with, who promised me the moon and stars but ended up offering the same promises to someone else. And the guy from another section who would take extra trips just to pass by my classroom—I always thought it was sweet, but I knew I wasn’t in the right place to step into something that could easily turn complicated.

Those fleeting connections, though imperfect, quietly became part of my growing up. They were small chapters of confusion, warmth, and heartbreak that shaped the way I began to understand people, love, and even myself.

Red cups, night rides, spontaneous café visits, and nights filled with cramming and doubt colored the days of my high school life. There were mornings when we dragged ourselves into class half-asleep, promising each other that we would start studying earlier next time—only to repeat the same late-night cramming before another exam. There were days when laughter filled the cafeteria louder than our worries about deadlines, and afternoons when the simplest conversations with friends somehow made the weight of school feel lighter.

Somewhere between deadlines and laughter, between victories and mistakes, this place quietly became home.

And now, I am leaving it.

As I step out of the only place where I felt the safest, I feel like a newly hatched bird pushed from a tall tree—with only a split second to decide whether I will allow the fall to shatter my bones or let my wings catch the wind and carry me through this test.

The world beyond these gates suddenly feels enormous. College waits ahead like a road that stretches farther than my eyes can see. Everyone around me seems excited, confident, and ready. Yet somewhere in my chest lives a quiet uncertainty that I cannot ignore.

Uncertain. Scared. Unsure. These are the three words that linger in my heart the most. I still have no chosen school, no definite course, and no clear direction. My mom advised me to take the practical route by enrolling in BS Accountancy. My dad told me not to back down from a challenge and to dive into the abyss of law by taking BS Political Science. My grandma encouraged me to take risks and step into the world of medicine. All of it sounds overwhelming. I don’t want to be caged in a corporate setting, nor stagger under the heavy weight of laws, nor be pierced by the relentless trials inside hospitals. I know I am creative. I know I am meant for more—and so I want to be both creative and more.

There is no dream without sacrifice, no path without its occasional obstacles. Because if none of those are present, then what is the journey even for? What is the point of reaching a goal without anything to look back on and reflect upon? The trials and errors, the ups and downs, the good and bad choices—those are the very things that will shape the person we become in the future.

During the past six years, the decisions I made, the words I spoke, and the paths I took have all lifted my feet and guided every step on the staircase of my aspirations. They are not things to regret, doubt, or cringe at, because they are what shed light on the path that led me to where I am now.

Leaving is never easy, yet it is a decision everyone makes at some point in their lives. In the end, it is up to you whether you choose to linger or to make your departure as meaningful in the future as it is in the present. As I turn my head and look back at the stairs I was once so eager to climb, I breathe a sigh of relief—yet at the same time, I feel a trace of worry.

“Is this all going to be worth it?”

But as I look down at my feet on the very staircase I am standing on, I form a small smile. It’s okay to be unsure, to be doubtful, to worry—because, for one, I have truly come a long way. Although the light at the top of the seemingly endless steps looks unreachable, the view from below once felt just as endless—that’s how far I’ve come. As they always say, “malayo pa, pero malayo na.”

Uncertainty, at first glance, seems like an emotion you are not allowed to feel—especially as a student. But from a broader perspective, it creates space for wider opportunities, more unopened doors to walk through, and most importantly, time to discover what your heart truly yearns for.

And to top it, I learned that uncertainty is not something to be ashamed of. Maybe it simply means that what lies ahead truly matters. Perhaps every person who steps into a new chapter carries the same quiet question I do.

In reality, you cannot read the same book and expect a different ending. You cannot expect a chick to hatch from a goose’s egg. And you cannot master a future that has never been lived.

I know college will test me to my limits—break my stride, blur my vision, and confront me with reality. But I have come to accept that there is no field of work free from friction—no dream without sacrifice, no path without doubt. The uncertainty I feel today may not be a weakness after all.

Perhaps it is simply proof that I am standing at the edge of something new.

Is it truly a crime to be unsure? Or is it simply the courage to admit that the future, like a pair of fragile wings, is still learning how to fly?

In time, we will find out if our choices are sustainable. Because this heart is pure, kind, and has matured—and my dream is divine; nothing is unattainable.

So maybe I’ll reach the light at the end of the journey one day—but who knows? I think I’ll take that thought to the grave… but who knows?