Yesterday, I arrived at school rather early, and by that I mean dawn. I'm one of the participants of an event exclusive for private schools. I wasn't nervous. I don't feel anything at all. I guess it's because I've become used to of holding a microphone and speaking publicly.
It took us 2 hours to get to the place. It was crowded with students and coaches. Rolled white cartolinas with hidden questions for brain quests were scattered everywhere. There were also couple of students wearing business attires for research presentations and oratorical speech, and I'm one of them. I was chosen by our school to contest in oration. But in our district, there were two of us. And only one is needed.
And so we had an elimination round. But in the end, the facilitators sticked to the winners-by-default. It was heartbreaking. Thinking of all the efforts my mom and dad provided me for that day, the days I've racked my brain for ideas of my speech, those times that I practiced, and the hopes and supports put into me, I couldn't help but breakdown.
It was ironic. The content of my speech was all about winning your own battle. But despite being prepared, trained, and armed with my weapons, I still lost. It wasn't even a glorious defeat. I just stepped on the battlefield, without even managing to draw my sword, cock my gun, or even open my mouth, I faced defeat. The piece that I've wrote and was meant to encourage my co-youth, appeared to have been written to console me.
Another heartbreak. Another lost. Another scar to be etched in my heart. Another bucket of tears to dry on my pillow sheets. What will I get from all of these?