somewhere between “ikaw ang ate” and “ikaw na ang bahala,” we learned to carry things that were never ours.

i think the strangest thing about being the eldest daughter is that no one really tells you when you stop being a child.

it just happens.

and maybe that's where it started.

with “ikaw ang ate.”

ikaw ang ate, kaya dapat ikaw ang umintindi.

ikaw ang ate, kaya dapat ikaw ang mag-adjust.

ikaw ang ate, kaya dapat marunong ka.

ikaw ang ate, kaya ikaw na.

i don't think they ever realized how many things could fit inside those three words.

ikaw na.

as if being the eldest automatically meant having more strength, more patience, more understanding, more responsibility. as if the moment you were born first, you were also given an invisible list of things you were supposed to become.

the example.

the responsible one.

the mature one.

the one who doesn't cause too much trouble.

the one who should know better.

and maybe nobody meant to make it feel like a burden. maybe they were just proud of me. maybe they trusted me. maybe when they said i was mature, they meant it as a compliment.

but sometimes i wonder what happens when a compliment becomes an expectation.

because after hearing that you're “mature” for long enough, you start becoming afraid of doing anything that looks immature.

you stop crying in front of people.

you stop asking for help.

you start thinking carefully before saying what you feel.

you learn how to keep your problems small because you don't want to be another problem.

you learn how to say “okay lang” so naturally that sometimes even you forget to check whether it really is.

and the worst part is, people believe you.

they believe the “okay lang.” they believe the “kaya ko.” they believe the “hindi naman big deal.”

because you've spent so long making yourself look capable that nobody thinks to ask what it costs you to keep looking that way.

sometimes i think eldest daughters are praised for the very things that are quietly exhausting them.

“ang independent mo.” thank you.

i wish i didn't have to be.

“ang responsible mo.” thank you.

i wish someone would let me be irresponsible sometimes without making me feel guilty.

“ang lakas mo.” thank you.

but what if i don't want to be strong today? what if i just want to be tired? not “i worked hard today” tired. just the kind of tired where you don't want to explain yourself. the kind where you want to lie down and have someone else figure things out for a while.

i think that's what people don't understand.

sometimes i don't want advice. sometimes i don't want to be told that everything will be okay. sometimes i don't even want to talk about what happened.

i just want someone to notice.

to look at me and say, “parang pagod ka.”

and when i say “okay lang,” maybe they could ask again.

not because they don't believe me.

but because they know me enough to know that sometimes “okay lang” is just the easiest answer.

i don't think eldest daughters want someone to save them. i think we just want to experience what it's like to not always be the one saving everyone else.

there are moments when i catch myself getting angry at things i shouldn't be angry about.

a small request.

another responsibility.

another “ate, pwede?”

another thing i have to remember.

and then i feel guilty for being irritated because it's not really their fault.

they're just asking.

they don't know that i've already spent the whole day trying to keep myself together.

they don't know that sometimes the smallest request feels heavy because it lands on top of everything else i've been carrying.

so i say yes. again. and again. and again.

until saying yes becomes so automatic that i don't even know what my own answer would have been if i had allowed myself to think about it.

maybe that's another curse of being the eldest daughter.

you become so used to being needed that you start feeling guilty whenever you choose yourself.

you feel selfish for resting. selfish for saying no. selfish for wanting space. selfish for having dreams that don't involve your family.

and maybe that's something i'm still trying to unlearn.

because i love my family.

but loving them shouldn't mean that i have to become responsible for every emotion in the house.

it shouldn't mean that i have to understand everything they do just because they're my parents.

it shouldn't mean that i have to repeat everything i've witnessed simply because it's what i grew up knowing.

there are things i inherited from my family that i want to keep.

but there are also things i don't want to carry into the future.

the idea that being a good daughter means never disappointing anyone.

i used to think growing up would automatically make me understand my parents.

parang darating lang yung araw na bigla kong maiintindihan lahat.

ah, kaya pala sila ganito. ah, kaya pala nila sinabi iyon. ah, kaya pala ganito sila magmahal.

and maybe some of that understanding does come with age.

you start seeing your parents as people too.

but growing up also taught me something else.

that i can choose a different life without that choice being a betrayal of the people who raised me.

because sometimes i think the biggest fear of an eldest daughter isn't failing herself. it's failing everyone else.

we grow up knowing that people are watching.

our younger siblings are watching. our parents are watching. sometimes even relatives are watching. and whether they say it out loud or not, there's always this feeling that we're supposed to set the standard.

so when we make a mistake, it feels bigger.

when we choose something different, it feels selfish.

when we don't know what we're doing, it feels embarrassing.

when we fail, we don't just think, “i failed.”

we think,

“what will they think of me?”

and i wish i could tell the younger version of myself that she didn't have to live like that.

that she was allowed to get things wrong.

that she didn't need to know what she wanted at sixteen.

that she didn't have to have her whole future figured out just because everyone expected her to be responsible.

that being someone's ate didn't mean she had to become everyone's example.

she was allowed to be a person before she was a role model.

and maybe i'm still learning that now.

because sometimes i still catch myself doing it.

trying to be perfect. trying not to disappoint anyone. trying to make everyone comfortable. trying to make decisions that will make everyone proud.

and then i remember that i'm the one who has to live with those decisions.

not everyone else.

me.

so maybe, slowly, i'm learning to ask myself a different question.

not “will they be happy with this?”

but “will i be okay with this?”

not “what do they expect from me?”

but “what do i expect from myself?”

not “how can i make this easier for everyone?”

but “what do i actually need right now?”

it sounds simple.

but it isn't.

because when you've spent your whole life looking outward, looking inward can feel selfish.

but maybe it isn't.

maybe knowing yourself is not selfish.

maybe resting is not selfish. maybe having boundaries is not selfish.

maybe becoming your own person is not a rejection of your family.

maybe it is simply growing up.

and i hope that one day, when i have a daughter of my own, i remember all of this. i hope i never tell her that because she's the eldest, she has to understand more. i hope i don't make her responsible for keeping the peace. i hope i don't use her kindness as a reason to keep asking for more. i hope she knows that her younger siblings are not her responsibility to raise. i hope she knows that she can have her own childhood.

her own mistakes. her own dreams. her own life.

i hope she knows that she can come home crying and still be loved.

that she can fail and still be loved. that she can say no and still be loved. that she doesn't have to earn her place in the family by being useful.

because i think that's what i needed to hear too.

you don't have to be useful to be worthy of love.

you don't have to be strong to deserve care.

you don't have to understand everyone to be a good daughter.

you don't have to carry everything just because you are capable of carrying it.

that's the part of the eldest daughter curse i'm finally trying to break.

not the responsibility, not the love, not the part of me that wants to take care of people.

i don't want to lose that part of myself. i just don't want to lose myself while doing it.

i want to remain soft without feeling weak. i want to help without feeling obligated. i want to love my family without becoming responsible for their entire happiness. i want to grow up without becoming someone i don't recognize.

and maybe most importantly,

i want to stop thinking that being tired makes me a bad daughter.

because sometimes i am tired.

sometimes i don't know what to do.

sometimes i want someone else to decide.

sometimes i want to be the one who gets asked, “are you okay?”

sometimes i want to hear,

“ako na.”

and maybe there is nothing wrong with that.

maybe the eldest daughter was never meant to carry the whole house.

maybe she was only meant to be a daughter.

and maybe i am allowed to be one, too.

Ang dami kong bersyon para sa ibang tao, pero hindi ko alam kung alin doon ang tunay na ako.

Minsan naiisip ko, ang dami ko palang version ng sarili ko.

May version ako na anak.

May version ako na kaibigan.

May version ako na estudyante.

May version ako na kailangan maging okay kahit hindi naman talaga.

May version ako na marunong makisama, marunong umintindi, marunong mag-adjust, marunong manahimik kapag alam niyang hindi magandang oras para magsalita.

And i think i’ve gotten really good at being whoever people need me to be.

Ang problema, minsan hindi ko na alam kung sino ako kapag wala nang nangangailangan ng kahit anong version sa akin.

Kapag wala nang kailangang pasayahin, wala nang kailangang i-impress, wala nang kailangang patunayan. Kapag mag-isa na lang ako sa kwarto at wala nang ibang boses na nagsasabi kung ano ang dapat kong maramdaman, ano ang dapat kong gawin, o kung ano ang dapat kong maging.

Doon ako minsan natatakot.

Kasi what if hindi ko pala talaga kilala ang sarili ko?

What if most of the things i call “me” are just things I learned to become because they made other people comfortable?

What if i’m only “mabait” because I learned early that saying no disappoints people? what if i’m “strong” because I got tired of explaining why I needed help? what if i’m “independent” because somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that needing people was something I should be ashamed of?

Ang weird isipin na puwedeng lumaki kang kilala ka ng maraming tao pero hindi mo kilala ang sarili mo.

People know the version of you that laughs loudly. They know the version that gets good grades, shows up when needed, replies to messages, listens to everyone’s problems, and somehow still says “okay lang ako” when someone finally asks how you’re doing.

Pero ikaw lang ang nakakaalam kung gaano karaming beses mong sinabi ang “okay lang” kahit hindi naman talaga.

And maybe that’s why i sometimes envy people who seem so sure of themselves. ‘yong mga taong alam kung ano ang gusto nila, saan sila pupunta, anong klaseng buhay ang gusto nilang magkaroon.

Siguro iyon ang nakakatakot sa paglaki. Hindi lang pala ‘yong kailangan mong magdesisyon para sa future mo. Kailangan mo ring matutong kilalanin ang sarili mo habang ginagawa mo iyon.

And no one really tells you how difficult that is.

Because sometimes you have to unlearn things that you thought were part of your personality.

You have to learn that being quiet doesn’t always mean you’re okay. That being understanding doesn’t mean you should always forgive. That being kind doesn’t mean you have to keep saying yes. That being strong doesn’t mean you have to carry everything alone.

At siguro, kailangan ko ring matutong tanggapin na hindi lahat ng tao ay magiging masaya sa version ko na hindi na palaging nag-aadjust para sa kanila.

Maybe some people will think i've changed.

Maybe i have.

Pero baka hindi naman lahat ng pagbabago ay masama.

Maybe i’m just finally becoming someone i don’t have to constantly apologize for.

Someone who can say no without spending the entire night wondering if i’ve hurt someone.

Someone who can admit that i’m tired without feeling guilty.

And maybe that’s what finding yourself actually looks like.

Hindi yung isang araw gigising ka na alam mo na agad kung sino ka.

Maybe it’s much quieter than that.

Maybe it’s choosing something because you genuinely like it. Leaving when something no longer feels right. Admitting that you don’t know. Changing your mind. Dissappointing people. making mistakes. Discovering things about yourself that you wish you had known earlier.

Maybe it’s slowly learning to hear your own voice underneath all the voices that told you who you were supposed to be.

Kaya minsan, kapag mag-isa ako, sinusubukan kong huwag agad punuin ang katahimikan.

I let myself sit with it.

And i ask questions i used to avoid.

Ano ba talaga ang gusto ko?

Ano yung ginagawa ko dahil mahal ko, at ano yung ginagawa ko dahil natatakot akong hindi mahalin?

Sino ako kapag wala akong kailangang patunayan?

Wala pa akong magandang sagot sa lahat ng ‘yan.

Pero for once, i think i’m okay with not knowing.

Because maybe i don’t need to have myself completely figured out just to deserve to be myself. Maybe i’m still becoming. And maybe that's enough.

Because after years of trying to become someone everyone could love, i’m slowly learning something i wish i knew earlier,

I don’t want to spend my whole life being a version of myself that everyone recognizes except me.

Noong bata ako, itinuro sa akin ang salitang “salamat” bago ko pa lubusang naiintindihan ang salitang “bakit” Kapag may bagong gamit, magpasalamat. Kapag may pagkain sa hapag, magpasalamat. Kapag may pagkakataong makapag-aral, magpasalamat. Kapag may nagmamahal sa akin, magpasalamat. At kapag nasasaktan ako, sinasabihan akong isipin na lamang ang mga taong mas nahihirapan sa akin. Kaya natuto akong magpasalamat kahit may kulang, ngumiti kahit mabigat, at manahimik kapag may bagay na hindi ko na kayang dalhin. Hindi ko namalayang habang tinuturuan akong maging mapagpasalamat, unti-unti ko ring natutunang pagdudahan kung may karapatan ba akong maging malungkot.

“Magpasalamat ka na lang.”

Ilang beses na ba natin itong narinig? Kapag napapagod tayo sa pag-aaral, sasabihing maraming gustong makapag-aral. Kapag hindi natin gusto ang kursong pinili para sa atin, sasabihing may mga taong walang pagkakataong makapili. Kapag hindi tayo masaya sa tahanan, sasabihing may mga taong wala nang tahanan. Para bang kailangang may mas malaking problema sa mundo bago maging karapat-dapat ang sarili nating sakit. Kaya natuto tayong ikumpara ang mga sugat natin sa sugat ng iba.

Kasi kapag sinabi kong nahihirapan ako, may magpapaalala na “Yung iba diyan, walang-wala.” Kapag sinabi kong hindi ko gusto ang sitwasyon ko, maririnig ko ang “Magpasalamat ka na lang.” Kaya natuto akong manahimik. Hindi dahil wala akong nararamdaman, kundi dahil pakiramdam ko wala akong karapatang maramdaman iyon.

Lagi na lang,

“Buti ka pa nga”

“Buti ka pa nga, may magulang.”

“Buti ka pa nga, nakakapag-aral.”

At

“‘Yong iba diyan walang wala.”

Alam ko. Alam kong may mga taong mas kapos. Alam kong may mga batang gustong pumasok pero walang pamasahe. May mga pamilyang nag-iisip kung saan kukunin ang susunod na kakainin. Mga taong mas mabigat ang pinagdadaanan kaysa sa akin. Pero kilangan ba na mas malala ang problema ng iba bago ako magkaroon ng karapatan na maging malungkot?

”Maraming mas malala pa sa ‘yo”

Oo. Pero hindi ibig sabihin na wala na akong karapatang mapagod. Hindi ko kailangang maging pinakamalungkot na tao sa mundo bago ko masabing malungkot ako. Hindi ko kailangang mawalan ng bahay bago ko masabing hindi ako komportable sa bahay. Hindi ko kailangang bumagsak bago ko amining nahihirapan ako. At hindi ko kailangang maubos bago ko sabihing kailangan ko ng pahinga.

Kaya maraming tao ngayon ang hindi naman talaga alam kung ano ang gusto nila. Alam lang nila kung ano ang dapat nilang gawin. Mag-aral. Kumuha ng mataas na grado. Pumili ng kursong may magandang trabaho, Magtagumpay, Magkaroon ng magandang kinabukasan. Maging anak na maipagmamalaki ng magulang. Habang ginagawa natin ang lahat ng iyon, minsan nakakalimutan nating tanungin ang sarili natin, “Ako ba talaga ang pumili nito, o natatakot lang akong biguin ang mga taong umaasa sa akin?”

Siguro hindi naman masama ang itinuro sa atin. Hindi masamang maging mapagpasalamat. Hindi masamang sabihan tayo na pahalagahan ang mayroon tayo. Maaari akong magpasalamat at mapagod. Maaari akong magpasalamat at umiyak. Maaari akong magpasalamat at gustuhin pa rin ng mas magandang buhay. Maaari kong pahalagahan ang mga sakripisyo ng mga magulang ko nang hindi kinakailangang isuko ang sarili kong pangarap. Dahil ang pangarap ay hindi kawalan ng utang na loob.

Kaya nagpapasalamat ako.

Sa pagkain. Sa pamilya. Sa edukasyon.

Sa bawat pagkakataong dumadating sa akin.

Pero hindi na ako mahihiyang sabihin na may mga bagay pa rin akong hinihiling.

Hindi dahil kulang ang mayroon ako.

Kundi dahil tao lang din ako.

At baka ito ang matagal na nating kailangang marinig:

Okay lang magpasalamat kahit malungkot.

Okay lang makuntento, at mangarap pa rin.

Okay lang mahalin ang buhay mo, habang gusto mo rin itong baguhin.

Hindi mo kailangang ikumpara ang sakit mo sa sakit ng iba para lang ito ay mapakinggan.

Kaya kung pagod tayo, sana huwag na natin pilitin ang sarili sa linyang, “Mas may malala pa sa atin.”

Sana masabi rin natin ang totoo,

Na pagod din tayo.

At sa pagkakataong ito, sana wala nang sumagot ng,

“Magpasalamat ka na lang.”

Sa isang bansang sanay ngumiti kahit pagod, may mga kuwentong dapat marinig.

Sa bawat abalang kalsada, masikip na bahay, maliit na tindahan, pampublikong sasakyan, pabrika, palengke, paaralan, at opisina, may mga Pilipinong patuloy na kumikilos. Nakikita natin silang nagtatrabaho, nagmamadali, nakikipagsiksikan, nagtitinda, nagmamaneho, nagbubuhat, naglilinis, nagtuturo, at nagseserbisyo.

Ngunit ang nakikita natin ay bahagi lamang ng kanilang kuwento.

Hindi natin nakikita ang mga gabing hindi sila makatulog dahil iniisip kung saan kukunin ang pambayad kinabukasan.

Hindi natin nakikita ang mga magulang na pinipiling sila ang magutom upang may maihain lamang sa hapag.

Hindi natin nakikita ang mga anak na natututong mangarap nang tahimik dahil alam nilang may mga pangarap na kailangang ipagpaliban upang makatulong sa pamilya.

Hindi natin nakikita ang mga manggagawang pumapasok kahit masama ang pakiramdam dahil ang isang araw na hindi pagpasok ay maaaring katumbas ng isang araw na walang kita.

Hindi natin nakikita ang mga taong buong araw na nakangiti sa harap ng ibang tao ngunit pag-uwi ay tahimik na lamang, sapagkat wala nang lakas upang ipaliwanag kung gaano sila kapagod.

May mga Pilipinong ang bawat baryang kinikita ay may pinatutunguhan.

May pambayad sa kuryente.

May pambili ng bigas.

May baon para sa anak.

May utang na kailangang bayaran.

At kung may matira man, saka pa lamang nila maiisip ang sarili.

Ito ang mga pakikibakang bihirang makita sa larawan.

Dahil kapag may nakunan sa kamera, madalas nating nakikita ang pagtatapos, hindi ang mahabang proseso bago ito marating.

Nakikita natin ang isang estudyanteng nagtapos, ngunit hindi ang mga gabing nag-aral siya habang pagod na pagod.

Nakikita natin ang isang manggagawang may hawak na suweldo, ngunit hindi ang lahat ng oras, lakas, at pagod na ipinagpalit niya para rito.

Nakikita natin ang isang taong nakangiti.

Ngunit hindi natin alam kung ilang beses siyang umiyak nang walang nakakakita.

Ang buhay ng Pilipino ay hindi laging kasingliwanag ng mga kuwentong ibinabahagi natin.

May mga araw na sapat ang pagkain.

May mga araw na kailangang pagkasyahin ang kaunti.

May mga panahong may trabaho.

May mga panahong naghihintay.

May mga pagkakataong malakas ang loob.

May mga gabing nauubusan din ng pag-asa.

Ngunit kinabukasan, bumabangon pa rin.

Hindi dahil madali.

Kundi dahil may mga taong umaasa sa kanila.

Dahil may pamilyang kailangang buhayin.

May pangarap na kailangang ipaglaban.

May kinabukasang nais nilang maibigay sa mga mahal nila.

Ito ang tahimik na tapang ng Pilipino.

Hindi palaging malaki.

Hindi palaging kapansin-pansin.

Minsan, ang tapang ay ang pagbangon nang maaga kahit kulang ang tulog.

Ang pagpasok sa trabaho kahit mabigat ang kalooban.

Ang paghawak sa maliit na kita at pag-iisip kung paano ito pagkakasyahin.

Ang pag-ngiti sa anak kahit hindi alam kung paano haharapin ang susunod na araw.

Sa likod ng bawat tahanan ay may kuwentong hindi natin alam.

Sa likod ng bawat uniporme ay may pagod.

Sa likod ng bawat suweldo ay may sakripisyo.

Sa likod ng bawat ngiti ay maaaring may isang laban na hindi kailanman ipinakita sa mundo.

At marahil, iyon ang tinatawag nating mga pakikibakang nasa likod ng camera.

At may mga Pilipinong araw-araw na lumalaban nang walang kamera, walang palakpak, at walang katiyakang mananalo sila.

Ngunit lumalaban pa rin.

Dahil sa kabila ng hirap, may pag-asa.

Sa kabila ng kakulangan, may pagmamahal.

Sa kabila ng pagod, may dahilan upang bumangon.

At sa kabila ng mundong minsan ay tila walang pakialam, may mga Pilipinong patuloy na pinipiling mabuhay para sa mga taong mahal nila.

Hindi lahat ng bayani ay nakikita.

Hindi lahat ng sakripisyo ay naitatala.

Hindi lahat ng laban ay may nakasaksi.

Ngunit ang bawat Pilipinong patuloy na bumabangon, patuloy na nagtatrabaho, patuloy na nagmamahal, at patuloy na umaasa,

ay may kuwentong karapat-dapat marinig.

Sapagkat sa likod ng bawat ordinaryong araw ay may isang taong gumagawa ng pambihirang bagay:

Ang patuloy na pagpili na lumaban, kahit walang nakakakita.

Noong bata ako, ako yung batang laging nakasunod sa tatay niya. Siya ang una kong hinangaan, una kong pinagkatiwalaan, at unang lalaking minahal ko nang buong-buo. Sa murang isip ko, akala ko kung paano niya ako mahalin, ganoon talaga ang pagmamahal. Hindi ko pa alam noon na balang araw, matututo akong paghiwalayin ang pagmamahal sa sakit.

Habang lumalaki ako, mas marami akong bagay na nauunawaan. May mga pagkakataong napagbubuhatan ako ng kamay, at may mga panahong nasisigawan ako dahil iyon daw ang paraan ng pangaral at pagmamahal. Bilang anak, sinubukan kong intindihin. Sinabi ko sa sarili ko na baka ginagawa lang niya iyon para matuto ako, para maging mabuting tao ako. Pero habang tumatanda ako, may isang tanong na hindi ko na maiwasan: Kailangan ba talagang masaktan muna ang isang anak para maramdaman niyang mahal siya?

Siguro iyon ang isa sa pinakamalaking bagay na natutunan ko habang lumalaki ako: Ang unang lalaking minahal ko ay hindi kailangang maging batayan ng lalaking pipiliin kong pakasalan. Hindi dahil nakasanayan ko ang pagsigaw ay kailangan ko na itong tanggapin bilang pagmamahal. Hindi dahil naranasan kong masaktan ay kailangan ko ring makasanayan ito. At hindi dahil iyon ang unang anyo ng pagmamahal na nakilala ko ay iyon na rin ang klase ng pagmamahal na deserve ko.

Siguro rin ito ang bagay na pinakamalalim niyang itinuro sa akin nang hindi niya sinasadya. Hindi lahat ng nakasanayan ko ay kailangan kong dalhin habang buhay. Hindi dahil normal sa akin ang sigawan ay kailangan kong tanggapin iyon sa isang relasyon. Hindi dahil naranasan kong masaktan ay kailangan ko ring masanay sa sakit. Ang pagiging pamilyar ng isang bagay ay hindi ibig sabihin na tama ito.

Balang araw, gusto kong makilala ang pagmamahal hindi bilang pagsigaw na kailangan kong tiisin, hindi bilang sakit na kailangan kong intindihin, at hindi bilang takot na kailangan kong tawaging pangaral. Gusto kong maranasan ang pagmamahal na hindi ko kailangang pagdudahan kung ligtas ba ako habang minamahal ako.

Ang pagmamahal ay hindi dapat katumbas ng takot, at ang pangaral ay hindi kailangang may kasamang sakit. 

Kaya oo, mahal ko ang tatay ko. Mahal na mahal ko siya, Pero ayaw kong magpakasal sa isang lalaking katulad niya.

Nakakapagod na rin.

Paulit-ulit na lang. Uulan nang malakas, babaha, may mga kalsadang hindi madaanan, may mga bahay na pinapasok ng tubig, may mga estudyanteng hindi makapasok, may mga pamilyang kailangang lumikas. Tapos pagkatapos ng ilang araw, parang balik ulit sa dati. Parang normal na lang ang lahat.

Pero hindi naman dapat normal ang ganito.

Nakakagalit isipin na taon-taon, trilyon-trilyong piso ang inilalabas para sa mga proyekto, lalo na para sa flood control at iba pang imprastraktura, pero bakit sa bawat malakas na ulan, ganito pa rin? Nasaan napupunta ang pera? Saan napupunta ang mga proyektong ipinapangako? Bakit ang ordinaryong Pilipino pa rin ang laging sumasalo sa problema?

Hindi lang naman tubig ang umaapaw sa mga kalsada. Umaapaw din yung galit ng mga tao.

Kahit gaano karaming beses tayong sabihan na “may ginagawa naman ang gobyerno,” mahirap paniwalaan kapag ang nakikita natin ay mga taong lumulusong sa baha, mga sasakyang nasisira, mga negosyo at bahay na naaapektuhan, at mga pamilyang paulit-ulit na nawawalan.

At nakakainis pa minsan kung paano natin ginagawang malaking bagay ang pinakamaliit na tulong. Isang kalsadang nalinis, isang libreng sakay, ilang relief goods—syempre, kailangan at nakakatulong. Pero bakit parang kailangan pa nating ipagdiwang nang sobra ang basic na serbisyo na dapat naman talagang ginagawa?

𝗛𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶 𝗱𝗮𝗽𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗮𝗮𝘆𝗼𝘀 𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲.

𝗛𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶 𝗱𝗮𝗽𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗮 𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶 𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗯𝗮𝗵𝗮.

𝗛𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶 𝗱𝗮𝗽𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝘁𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝗴-𝘂𝘄𝗶 𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗸𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗽𝗼𝘀 𝗻𝗴 𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻.

Ang gusto lang naman ng mga tao ay simpleng buhay na hindi kailangang matakot tuwing bumibigat ang ulan.

Kaya hanggang kailan tayo magtitiis?

Hanggang kailan magiging normal ang baha?

Hanggang kailan tayo magtatanong kung saan napunta ang pera?

At hanggang kailan natin tatanggapin na ganito na lang palagi?

Hindi naman sobra ang hinihingi ng Pilipino. Gusto lang natin ng gobyernong ginagawa talaga ang trabaho nito. Gusto natin ng kalsadang maayos, drainage na gumagana, flood control na may silbi, at mga proyektong hindi lang maganda sa papel.

Kasi hindi lang naman ito tungkol sa baha.

Tungkol ito sa perang dapat napupunta sa serbisyo.

Tungkol ito sa pananagutan.

Tungkol ito sa mga taong nagnanais ng mas maayos na buhay.

𝗞𝗮𝘆𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶 𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗸𝘁𝗶𝗯𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮,

𝗞𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗸𝗮𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮.