my speech: no ordinary me

19 years, eleven months, 12 days, 15 hrs and approximate of 30 minutes……almost 20 summers… that’s long I live. Now what?

            I am the eldest chap in the family. Too much attention, too many privileges, too good life, too extraordinary – I LIKE IT – I AM LIVING IT . . . it must be okay to stay this way. WRONG, too high expectations, too great pressures, too agonizing – IT SUCKS… Pretention RULES… this is not the way I want things to be… but this is who I am. . . I hate limelight yet I abhor the backstage. .

            I regard my self as the one of the gutsy but also belong to the feeblest. Brave because I dare to have the heart and eyes to see almost everything in different perspective. Simple things as complicated one, complicated things to be the simple one…the height as the depth…to be a leader in following…to smile in sorrows…to cry in joys…weird…too peculiar perspective that makes me bizarre…. I am different, inimitably different from others… though there’s nothing off beam with it; I am afraid still to stand in the light and shout my name… This makes me as one of the weakest…afraid to substantiate the insignia of my ideas, to say my feelings and passions...afraid to be secluded though already living in aloneness…

            How long will I stay in this spot? This is not darkness neither the light. I am amidst the two. I don’t know how long I will wear this mask – to remain muffled. This is elusiveness. . .

            But there are stuffs that are certain in my psyche. I want to be happy, - who don’t want to be one? - The real sense of bliss that will fulfill the needs of my heart. To be free from the eyes of this world, of my family, of my friends, of everyone to be able to express the real me. I am easily frightened by the eyes that stared at me, which is why I am anxious to take a step without carefully inspecting the weight of my feet. I want to stop pretending to be all right when I am all down. I want to be indispensable, to be real.

            But for now, I will begin everything on dreaming that someday, somehow – this wounded being will be mended – the jagged pieces will be arranged – the shattered parts of my being will be found – that I will find my place to be fitted… From then I can say I am ME, a no ordinary ME.