ALPAS ASVP Litfolio

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al•pas -paglaya mula sa pagkakulong upang makalabas at lumayo -To break free, set loose and fly

ALPASERYE vol. 1 a series dedicated to share stories of hope, motivation and inspiration Through our words we fight with you, we cheer for you, we’re rooting for you and we believe in you!

Alpas tayo sa kawalan, kaibigan!

•ASVP 2021-2022•

Hindi Masama ang Magsimula Ulit.

Marahil sa bawat paggising mo sa umaga ay binabangungot ka na agad ng pag-aalala.

Nagdududa pa sa sarili kung ang bagong araw na binigay ay makakayanan pa.

Nakakapagod pero nakakatakot rin sumuko. Marami pang kailangan abutin, oras na dapat habulin, at mga pagkakataon na hindi dapat palampasin. Hindi pwedeng huminto kahit ang daan ay makailang beses ng lumiko.

Minsan, napapaisip ako kung bakit kailangan magmadali sa lahat ng bagay — bakit kailangan bilisan ang takbo ng buhay. Sa paulit-ulit na pagsisimula ko palagi marami akong natutuhan. Magagawa naman pala ang mga bagay ng marahan. Magtatagumpay rin kahit hindi kasing-bilis ng karamihan. Matatapos ng paunti-unti at hindi biglaan.

Kaya hindi mo kailangang sabayan ang bilis ng mundo. Gawin mo lang ang mga bagay nang naaayon sa kakayahan mo. Siguro matatagalan lang nang kaunti, ngunit ang mahalaga marami kang naipon na aral at alaala.

Baka bukas madapa, magkamali, at tuluyan kang umulit. Ngunit ngayon, alam mo nang kailanma’y hindi masama ang magsimula ulit.

Dahil kung ang lahat ay may katapusan, itong paglalakbay ay makakarating din sa paroroonan. | Mary Shine Barcelona |

Photo by | Patricia Marie Espina

Photo by | Patricia Marie Espina

Take Heart, and Be of Courage.

Slate pavements were washed by hard rain, and the sky looked heavy and dark. A cold breeze of air brushed your skin, and before you know it, tears are running down your cheeks.

This mundane world has taken a toll on you. Leaving you feeling overwhelmed, confused, and in despair. But it’s okay to cry —to feel all this uneasiness, the pain, and hurt that creeps within you. To feel a little dismay and be missing the things that time has taken from you. And when the sky is shrouded with grey clouds, as you wander down the little road you don’t know —remember to take heart and be of courage.

You will fall into the deeper well of life, where it is rigid and dark. And along the journey, there’s a highway calling for your name. And it might be a beautiful choice to choose or something worth embracing. Despite the countless heave of sighs you will find, it will all be worth it. Maybe you don’t understand it now; the sleepless nights, and all the why’s and how’s you dread as you cry your heart out. But eventually, without you knowing it, one day, it will all make sense.

You only have to take it easy and breathe a little deeper.

It’s a beautiful story, and the value you hold can never be measured by anything. And one day, you will smile down your feet and thank the sun where it has led you. So, take heart, and be of courage. | Mary Edcel Castillo |

False Realities May Intimidate Us. It’s possible that we’ll be threatened by the skills that other people want us to have. Competence puts us to the test. However, what we have may differ from what they anticipate. We can’t always value ourselves based on the comparisons others make.

They inhibit our freedom to do the things we choose on our own, to choose the dream we desire. It’s as if every action we should do must conform to the standards they establish —norms that prevent us from pressing the correct button in our selections.

Yes, it is essential to allow others to make decisions for us, to direct us down the best and most productive route. But are we merely carrying out our ideas because they demand it? Is it enough for us to achieve our best because our peers do? Are we aiming for success, because it’s the popular thing to do?

We are under a lot of pressure, and we want success without really comprehending what it means. But delayed success is not a failure; it is simply a prize you will receive later. Rather than desiring to live someone else’s life, make yourself a priority. Nobody stands up without falling down. No one succeeds in life unless they consider their own well-being.

Dream what you want, not what they want you to dream. Accept late accomplishments and failures, and you’ll find that they’ve built you stronger and better. Make your own definition of success and be confident that you can achieve it. | Jan Dawn Javellana |

Photo by | Patricia Marie Espina

Photo by | Patricia Marie Espina

Living with Perfection is an Overrated Way of Living.

Perfectionism is a trap that some of us fall into. We always think about our flawlessness and perfection, but never our efforts. We recognize the standard, but not our uniqueness. We value what people may say, but never ourselves. And it is something that we should escape from, for perfection does not belong in reality, but in fiction.

Oftentimes, we tend to invalidate our progress. We always want things to be perfect as we want them to be.

However, there are instances that we make mistakes and disappoint people. And it’s somehow what we feared more, rather than being happy with how far we’ve come. We believe that our happiness is determined by our success. That’s why we end up feeling guilty when we’re not doing good. We feel sorry for ourselves for taking a break; for resting when we feel tired. And we often forget that we are just humans.

Life is not about perfection. Life is all about embracing life, as it is. Just like how orchids grow with the air and wildflowers bloom without vegetation —every individual has his own pace.

You can live with the standards and still feel incomplete. You can be promoted to a higher position, but still hunger for your passion for the arts. You can be the best with everything but still long for love. The concept of “good enough” was made as an escape from dangerous ideals, because perfection is just an illusion. Good enough, was never a place for mediocrity, but reality. Sometimes not being good enough is good enough —that’s how should life be.

The world is a vast chasm. Everything about it is uncertain, and this is the art of life —ending the pursuit of perfection and just living it.

We should perhaps take a step back to acknowledge in a non-starry-eyed, but realistic way, that our lives are good enough —and that this is, in itself, already a grand achievement. | Niche Clarrise Jover |

To Myself Well hello there, old friend!

It’s been so long since we last conversed. I see that life did a number on your end, As if purposely rolling you on reverse.

I heard your agonizing pleas, As well as your desperate prayer, To grant you some sort of release, Or just put an end to all of your despair.

You made friends with loneliness, I see.

An attempt to salvage what’s left of your sanity. A saving grace of those who were weary, Perhaps an escape from your misery.

But alas, I have come to save thee. You just have to deeply love me. To understand and reach clarity, From these chains of anguish, you’ll be free.

The happiness that you seek will surely come, It might not be now, nor on the morrow. But you’ll be proud of what you’ve become, And will value the days that you felt your sorrow I see a bright future ahead of you, One where you’re genuinely happy and satisfied.

| Cashey Larruder |

Photo by | Patricia Marie Espina

A life that’s fitting and true, To which you’ll surely be gratified. Fret not, my dear friend.

Because I believe in you.

For this is not yet the end, Because you are me, and I am you.

Photo by | Allyssa Jamelo

Robots I used to believe that one day the world will soon be taken over or be surrounded by robots or bioengineered humanoids, like in those dystopian movies that I used to watch when I was a kid. Androids that don’t have a soul or life— but they think they do have a soul and a life to live.

One thing that I am sure of is that we are now surrounded by robots. Maybe they are not bioengineered nor even human, but you will only see it with your mind open. And if you don’t notice it to yourself—you might be one of those robots.

The difference is, you have a soul but you’re not “living”, yet you think that you are. You might be a robot —always overworking yourself, day by day, without even trying to rest and recharge yourself.

And yes I know, you think that if you try to rest you may not pass your projects on time. You are overthinking about what might happen in the future, that you forget to live your present. Stop pressuring yourself, take a rest and stop acting like you are programmed to move light speed with your responsibilities, because life is not a race. It’s okay to slow down, to pause or to take a break and recharge and live a little, because sweetie, you are not a machine— so don’t turn those dystopian movies into reality, because you are not a robot.

You have a life, never forget to live. | Jamela Manzano |

Photo by | Allyssa Jamelo

Special Code In the middle of chaos, You found yourself lost.

Where are you going, Where is the right path to walk?

It is dark, No flashlights nor street lights, The wind is blowing wild, The rain was pouring hard, As you saw the passing of thunderlight.

“Good morning, my pretty flower, How was the night with bad weather?

Do you feel cold?

But I’m glad you have strong roots.”

You are crying, Asking them to stop, You are shouting, But no one dares to listen.

This is the message for everyone, Every time you are in a thunderstorm, You might lose everything, But don’t lose the special code.

The rain is hitting your back, You feel cold and lost consciousness, Your vision turns to pitch black, Your body finally gives up.

The code can be found if you skip the next three lines, You want to continue, here’s a clue for a clue Three clues in a row, Lead to one answer in you read it through,

You were awakened by the heat, You feel comfortable as it touches your skin, You thought you are in heaven, But hear a voice from nowhere.

It was left in a box, When all the evils went out.

The thing with feathers / that perches in the soul”: Dickinson’ Crosby’s road companion. | Rola Janice D. Villamor |

Photo by |Patricia Marie Espina

“Flock Your Wings and Fly” There are tons of stones piled up on the road, nowhere to go, and you are unable to reach your destination. It doesn’t mean you have to give up, it means you have to raise your flag.

Hundreds of people swarm into the big lake to reach it, hundreds of people claiming the word “achieve” in the end. It’s not just you facing difficulties as time passes, not just you facing various struggles and challenges as time passes.

ter how critical and judgmental our surroundings were, they didn’t pull us down one by one.

Telling lies about ourselves doesn’t solve anything.

Criticizing ourselves doesn’t show everything. Judging ourselves doesn’t deserve something. And unbelieving ourselves doesn’t hide the facts.

So, flock your wings and fly, my dear one.

Spread your wings and show them how good you are. Prove it to them and attain them like it was meant to be. Think smart and act smart.

People with pure goals lead to attainYou are a bird on your own. You are ridment and claim their victory. People with a fighting spirit lead the way to liberation. Peo- ing on your flight. You are sharing your dreams ple with pure souls know that “giving up” is with anyone that you think you can do better. not an option, it is just a mere satisfaction. You prove to anyone that you are above others.

You are the one who creates your own future.

Tardiness, listlessness, and hopelessYou see yourself more than others. You ness are signs of faith within yourself to seek what really awaits you. Blood, sweat, and know yourself more than anyone else. You trust tears are the witnesses within yourself to seek yourself more than you trust your friends. You out what is really aimed at you. Motivate, believe in yourself as others do not believe in encourage, and settle are your trophies for you. You are a tree of hope. You are God’s Grace. fighting for your priorities. Each of us over- You are created with a big mission to survive. comes different struggles, travels different And it is you who flap your wings and fly. paths, faces different challenges, and most importantly, each of us achieves a single goal. | Nicole Pendilla | Struggles, judgements, challenges are the ones we suffer. Battles, victories, experiences are the ones we encounter. Devastated, suffering, depressed are the ones we turn to as our battling spirit. Achievements, attainabilities, and encouragements are the ones we shed tears over as our satisfaction.

It makes no difference how big or small, brand or new, it doesn’t change our cycle to be one of the best. Hence, we seek ourselves and give all our best to proclaim our title. No mat-

Umabot ka na ba sa puntong nasa gitna ka ng lahat-lahat? Nasa gitna ng pagiging tamad at masipag. Nasa gitna ng kasiyahan at kalungkutan. Nasa gitna ng pasakit at kaginhawaan. Alam mo yun? Nasa gitna ka ng lahat-lahat. Kaya kung tatanungin kung “Kumusta ka na?” ang iyong maisasagot ay “Okay lang.” Pero kung susuriing mabuti ay di mo talaga mawari ang iyong nararamdaman. Kasi nga, nasa gitna ka lang.

Ayaw mong aminin na pagod ka sapagkat lahat sila ay masisipag kung gumawa. Ayaw mong aminin na nalulungkot ka sapagkat ang iyong paligid ay masasaya. Ayaw mong aminin na nasasaktan ka kasi lahat sila ay pawang nakakaramdam ng ginhawa. Alam mo yun?

Ayaw mong aminin ang nasa iyong pinakaloob-looban dahil ayaw mong maging iba.

Nais mong may makasama at nakakasama sa nadarama. Ayaw mong maiwan at mag-isa.

Nasa gitna, kung saan di mo malaman kung talaga bang ika’y natutuwa o nalulungkot sa mga nangyayari. Nasa gitna, ng “Tama na” at “Kaya pa” ng mga patong-patong na gawaing sa iyo’y ibinabahagi. Nasa gitna, ng pagtulong sa iba at pag-una sa iyong sarili. Alam mo yun?

Hindi ka agarang makasagot kung sakaling ika’y tatanungin ng “Kumusta ka na? Kaya mo pa ba?” Kasi nga, nasa gitna ka lang.

Pilit mang iwasan, darating at darating ang araw na kailangan nating pumili ng panig. Hindi habambuhay tayo ang nasa gitna. Kailangan nating pumili ng linya. Kailangan nating maliwanangan.

Kailangan mabigyang-ngalan ang ating emosyon— kilalanin ang sarili. Huwag mag-atubiling ipakita ang totoong saloobin. Huwag itong pigilan at ibaon. Dahil sa iyong agam-agam na ikaw at ikaw lang rin ang nakakaramdam, madami rin pala ang dumaranas. Nag-aalinlangan lang din silang ipakita. Nag-aalinlangan lang din silang ipabatid. Nag-aantay lang din na may unang magsalita— takot maranasan ang mag-isa.

Minsan, mapapatawa ka nang wala sa oras. Minsan, mapapaluha sa harap ng taong ayaw mong makakita ng iyong kahinaan. Minsan, mahinahon sa umpisa at mapapasigaw sa dulo. ‘Di mo maintinSa oras na maipahayag mo ang dihan kung ano ang iyong dapat madama— basta’t alam mong nasa gitna ka lang. iyong sarili at magpakatotoo sa iyong nararamdaman— ang akala mong Nakakainis isipin ngunit sa gitna ng mag-isa, ngayon, ay may masasandalan. lahat. Sa gitna ng lahat-lahat. Saka lang mang| Dorelyn Simora | ingibabaw ang pinakamatimbang mong damdamin— lungkot, pagod, pagkawala.

Kadalasan, luha ang hudyat na pagod ka na.

Ngunit, ipinipilit mo pa ring ika’y nasa gitna.

Photo by | Allyssa Jamelo

Photo by | Allyssa Jamelo

table, realizing that its petals are meant only to decay, along with memories of my youth I used to think that being empty being sane —my freedom stripped away. has no purpose. I never weaved meaning into that word. The young “me”, But finally, at 21, when those hot summer had a tight ideal about hollow and cold nights kept me awake, fire igniting, flame things. I let them be as they were. I em- after flame, I saw how emptiness should braced them, raw and with passion, be embraced. I thought that maybe empeven when they were without value. tiness was meant to be filled, and not just left simply as it was: hollow and lacking.

Naïve at 15, I thought that a leafA tree will have flowers bloomless tree would stay the same, just waiting for winter to come and be kissed with its ing over in spring, and it will continue cold harsh winds. I thought it was like that to grow. And although my cups and mirof a masochist somewhere in between rors and flowers remain broken and dythese dimmed November nights, asking ing, I kept them. After all, they had more for the cold to finally freeze her heart. meaning and value after their shattering.

Broken Little Arisa

I know now that not everyStill clueless at 17, I thought that an empty cup, when broken could just thing that is broken is meant for throwbe thrown away, as if it never gave me ing —some are meant for keeping. warmth, when I spent my dark days seekJust like how, I kept the young, ing for coffee —searching for the youth in me, while watching cars pass by our naïve, and broken little Arisa, in me. street, wishing I was in the middle of | Thrysha Claire A. Martin | the road screaming my heart’s burdens.

But at 18, a mirror still meant nothing, for when broken —it will cease to have a purpose. My vanity will not be served by pieces reflecting small parts of who I wanted to be and who I wish I was not. My face was nothing, but small pieces of shattered glass wanting to be seen in a crowded room full of people emptier than my chest.

And stuck, there I was, at 19, staring right into those withered roses at my vanity

Photo by | Allyssa Jamelo

Ducklings in the Bathtub One late afternoon, a silly but disheveled man was wandering off the lake. The rich meadow peopled with wild and flavorsome flowers did not catch his gaze when he was drawn into the three abandoned ducklings approaching him. “Are you lost too, little ones?” He smiled, what a silly but disheveled man. He stopped and surveyed the lake in hopes of finding the mother but to no avail. The man proceeded with his interrupted walk and headed home.

get out of the room, most probably the house too. The man was startled, but he picked them up and brought them back to the tub, yet the commotion was still deafening. He was not ready to leave the room yet, let alone let them go. He never wanted to feel responsible for allowing himself to be left alone. For a second, he thought of the most ridiculous notion to submerge himself into the water just so the noise would subside.

The plan worked perfectly, and he did not hear any noise but only silence—a type of car silence with no music on, just a stretchy ride that one itches to get out of. The man woke up to his senses. By the time he was composed, the ducklings were waiting by the door in line. It was time to let them go. He knew it. They knew it. Suddenly, the silly but disheveled man got up, recklessly flooding the floor, and picked up the ducklings as they would be brought back to the lake once again.

As he was jangling up the keys, there came the quacking sounds that seemed to be nearing his spot. The ducklings followed him like a kid trying to fill in the bigger footprints on the sand. It seemed like they imprinted on the man. “I suppose you are,” the man sighed.

By the time he opened the door, he stepped As the lake was zooming in and the inside the house and so did the ducklings.

It was as if it was just a normal day to have moon illuminated nature, he saw how beauthem accompany the silly but disheveled man. tiful the rich meadow peopled with wild and flavorsome flowers that were flashed into his The depiction of Peter Pan’s shadow that eyes; he heard the harmonious quacking sound always tailed his direction was right in the arms of again but it was not coming from his arms. It the man carrying the ducklings toward the bath- was coming from the lake! He sighed with reroom. He turned the faucet on and waited until lief. As he gently placed the ducklings on the the tub was filled with water. Once then, he gen- water, they scrammed to their flock and blendtly put the ducklings in the tub, lavishly enjoying ed in quite well. He realized that they were the fresh setting, and joined them with his lay- not alone after all, not the only ones at all. ered clothes on. It seemed to him that they were Courage came in different kinds. For one, already a big part of who he was. He felt it. He thought they felt it too. Oh, the things he would accepting new beginnings. For another, embracdo to stop the world from ticking. He wished ing change. They might have sensed his need not to grow up anymore. The silly but dishev- for a company. He knew it. They knew it. He sieled man could stay here inside his safe space. lently thanked them. “Whatever lets us sleep at night, little ones.” He chuckled, what a silly man.

After what appeared to be forever, the | Ami Dallah Marquez | ducklings suddenly hopped off the tub and went straight to the closed doorway squeaking and quacking their hearts out, implying the need to

A frail luster has always enveloped Dally’s pale flesh with texts reflecting on the glasses resting on her eyes. Her brain was always bustling, taxing to make sense of theories, word definitions, and prominent figures she hasn’t even met, or would she ever?

It’s half past midnight and all that clouds her mind were the pages she’s yet to read.

Chapped lips, enervated eyes, wearied back, and neck as crisp as burning firewood, still she goes for another cup of caffeine.

Not even Dally is alienated by the sudden shifts the new normal has brought to us. Yet, it shouldn’t deprive us of the solicitude our body and mind deserve. You may notice yourself become agitated, forgetful, lifeless or fatigued, and they reflect on your chapped lips, enervated eyes, The clock ticks along the sound of her fin- wearied back and neck as crisp as burngers tapping the keyboard keys, and ev- ing firewood, and at half-past midnight, ery clack fills the silent dusk. All the dawn you may go for another cup of coffee. she’s welcomed, and stars accompanied. At once, her mind can no more form letters Dally needed rest, and so do you. It may take into fancy words, theories start to make a time off, a coffee break, or a well-deserved no sense, and the figures’ faces no more sleep to replenish yourself. But for Dally, an fit their names, her gnashing teeth quiv- afternoon trip to the beach will be ideal. It er, and her eyes begin to blur. Dally has may be a waste of time to some but, if what’s always thought she’s been breathing the reflected on her glasses are the setting sun’s same heavy air, and so tears start to fall. beautiful rays where her pale skin gets a kiss from the sand, then it’s a perfect dilly dally.

During this moment, one may experience | Joan Batisla-ong | guilt in allowing what he feels to course free as it may be deemed as a waste of time, a dilly dally, but it must be echoed that embracing your emotion will always be worth it. Dally knows it herself but every time emotions rise, she closes the lid to cover the bottle, and where the water can’t course comes an overflow.

Photo by |Patricia Marie Espina

Perfect Dilly Dally

Engulfed within our tiny spaces, we only see what’s inside, and we often forget the world that awaits us. We say good night to our unfinished essays, and good morning to our 7 a.m. classes, all within a gadget. With our yearning to cope with the online set-up and the challenges it brings, we burn ourselves off.

thing would do. I lost all of the purposes, and I lost my will to even try. I won’t make Enervated, I sat on the ledge alongside a de- it in time, and that crushed me even more. composing carcass of what seemed to be a lizard. No water nor food, and I left with noth- The sun never greeted me that morning. The ing but rain to consume as the wind sang an cold, damp rain did its job for him. Melodies unfamiliar tune that neither I nor recognize turned into screeches of disappointment, yet any of my memories. The stars swayed be- I didn’t hear them at all. I was deaf, yet I was hind the clouds, at least that is what I be- able to eavesdrop on the wails of those I failed. lieved. The moon orchestrated the sonata as Everything was falling apart, and the burden she played like a worn-out bard with an un- was building up only to beat me for the third original melody that sounded like a soft cra- time. I tried crawling towards the edge to fidle in a bayou. As I sat under the chaos that nally end it all, but everything turned black occurred in the heavens, I talked myself into as soon as I moved another fiber of muscle. resigning from this chore. I was only halfway there and exhausted. Thunder woke me from The tranquil silence held me, even though it my trance and shook me up, begging me to was clumsy. Every breathe was serene, and keep going. I heard her cheer for me, and it I felt at home for once. I get it, I was being would be disastrous if I disappoint her now. hasty. It took me five fractured bones before I realize how reckless I was. I danced to I hoist my half-dead body towards the sum- the wrong song and matched the pace of the mit. It was neither near nor far, but it seems universe like a coward in suspense. There I could not grab ahold of it. The distance was no bard in the first place, only whispers doesn’t seem to change. My eyes were sunk- that I ignored out of my pride. It was neven, teeth were chipped, claws were bleeding, er a question of perseverance or hope, but it and muscles were twinging. The agony was was all about timing. Timing that I should’ve unbearable, but it was the only thing that started from the very first note of my symkept me sane. It was raining heavily, yet ev- phony up to the very end of the music sheet. erything felt dry. Alas, I was approaching the end for both my misery and my purpose. I The scorching heat came again to remind clawed my way towards the pinnacle of the me of the harsh reality that I put myself into, pillar that I once viewed to be impossible to but I remained unbothered. I slept and took the summit, yet here I am, or so I thought. my time. The climb is still not finished, but it wasn’t ongoing also. Maybe when everything As dawn enveloped the skies, my eyes ad- is at the place again, the ascend will continjusted to the sight of another ledge. The false ue as planned. Progress may be everything sense of accomplishment thrashed both my in this world, but so is rest. And I will not will and my spirit, dumping all of the weight risk five more bones for me to accept that. towards my body. Neither my arms nor my | Wycliffe Gumban | legs listened to me and I was at an impasse.

I wept, but no tears were shed. I looked for anything that can give me something. AnyPahuwayi Anay

Photo by |Patricia Marie Espina

Makakaahon Ka “Pagod na ako” katagang sinasambit sa tuwing malapit na tayong maubos. Normal lang ang manghina at mawalan ng gana sa mga bagay na noon ay sa atin nagpapasaya. Nagtatananong kung saan nagkulang, naghahanap ng kasagutan. Mahirap itago ang pagkabigo lalo na sarili na noon ay palaging nananalo.

Takot na baka ito na ang huling pagkakataon upang makabawi. Nangagambang mapag-iwan at tuluyang malugmok sa kinaroroonan. Nakakapagod nang ibigay ang lahat sa bagay na alam mong hindi na makakamit.

Hahagkan na lamang ang sarili dahil sa ngayon ikaw lang ang nakakaalam ng lahat.

Hindi mo kailangan ipilit ang sarili sa mga bagay na hindi mo pa kaya. Sapat na ang sumubok ulit sa mga bagay na hindi napagtagumpayan. Huwag maging malupit sa sarili dahil sa huli ikaw na lang ang meron ka. Kilalanin mo ang salitang ‘pahinga’ dahil karapatdapat ka sa kapayapaang matagal mo nang inaasam.

Sa sunod-sunod na pagkatalo ay makakaanahon din.

Gigising sa umagang puno ng pag-asa, lilingon sa mga nagdaan. Titila rin ang buhos ng ulan at ng mga luha.

Makakabawi rin sa mga maling nagawa, mapapatunayan muli ang sarili. Makakabawi sa mga panahon ng kahinaan at makakaipon ng lakas. | Pauline Torrico |

Photo by |Patricia Marie Espina

Photo by |Patricia Marie Espina

Sa Mata ng Bagyo Sa nakaraang mga araw ay humambalos ang panibagong unos. Isang sakunang nagbalot ng dahas sa payapang kapaskuhan.

Ilang bahay ang nasalanta, ilang buhay ang nawala Hindi ba’t tulad ng kapuluang hinagupit ng bagyo, hinamon ka rin ng panahon?

Marahil habang ang paligid ay dinaranas ang mapinsalang sakuna, ikaw ay nasa gitna labanan – sa isang digmaan ng sariling ispan. Habang ang buhos ng ulan at hampas ng hangin ay dinig at dama, ang damdamin mo’y tila nasa gitna ng malawak na kawalan.

Hindi ba’t tahimik sa gitna ng bagyo? Bagama’t marahan ang hangin, ay balot pa rin ng kaguluhan.

Saan ka nananatili? Kung ang iyong kanlungan ay panasamantalang katahimikan - sisilakbo ang damdaming hindi mo inaasahan.

Tulad ng bagyong nagiipon ng mabigat na ulap sa gitna ng karagatan, huwag mo hayaang maipon ang damdaming pilit mong ikinukubli. Ihayag ang sakit, pagod at pangamba, hayaang bumuhos ang bigat na kakambal ng luha. Hindi kalian man mahina ang pag iyak. Ang pag hikbi ay isang katapangan.

Lilipas ang lakas ng hangin at ulan, gayun din ang kalungkutan. Maari pang matanaw ang liwanag, maari pang maniwala sa pag ahon. Kung sa gitna ng gabi ay naghihimagsik ang kaguluhan, kinabukasan titila din ang lahat. | Kimberly Gange |

My Pace Kring kring! Kring kring!

The sound of the clock echoed around the four corners of my room after hours of deafening silence. It’s 12 am in the morning and I still have a lot of things to do. Different types of papers can be seen scattering around my room and some of them piled like a mini–Mount Everest. My eyes grew tired as I sipped the last drop of my third cup of coffee tonight. I decided to take a 20-minute break and browse through my phone.

As I scrolled through different social media apps, I noticed many successful people sharing their sentiments and struggles before they reached the pinnacle of success. Some of them experienced little-to-no time of sleep just to work on their chosen fields wherein they are happy and passionate.

I look at my own reflection in the mirror and asked myself a lot of questions. Many thoughts are racing through my mind as the night sky grew darker because of the impending rain.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I not good at anything?

Will all of these struggles lead to success?

As these different questions rushed through my mind, I decided to calm myself down by listening to a music. “My Pace” played on my phone and I smiled.

After playing this song, I realized a lot of things. Some of us are so obsessed to the idea of success that it requires “sleepless nights and walking a million miles just to get there” that we forgot to take a break. Hard work is a must in reaching your dreams, but taking a time to rest when things are very hard is essential also. Everything will be paid off in its perfect time.

We don’t have to rush through everything. Just run at your own pace. A small progress is still a progress. It’s okay to go slow, and stop comparing your progress to anyone. Just focus on yourself and your goals.

It’s okay to take a break, run for your dreams and pursue your goals at your own pace. | Ranz Agreda |

Photo by |Patricia Marie Espina

ASVP EDITORIAL BOARD Kianne Francine Duspar Editor-in-Chief Princess Mae Sampalocia Managing Editor Ami Dallah Mae Marquez Ranz Agreda Associate Editors Patricia Marie Espina Layout Editor Shalae Anne Palma Web Administrator Jolea Firmo Lead Illustrator Mia Rose Vergara News and Sports Editor Thrysha Claire Martin Literary Editor Kimberly Gange Feature Writer Janine Mae Capanang Layout Artist Ma. Julieta Rimon Sports Writer

Photojournalists Alyssa Jamelo Nissi Somuelo Illustrators Iris Faye Fuerza Julliana Marie Pudadera Trisha Czarina Tordesillas Xenna Jean Capada Editorial Writers Wycliffe Joash Gumban Pauline Imma Mae Torrico Joan Batisla-ong News Writers Trisha Mae Paras May Flor Verdadero Raugene Ross Satajo Literary Writers Mary Shine Barcelona Cashey Larruder Jan Dawn Javellana Mary Edcel Castillo Kyla Nadyl Posadas Niche Clarisse Jover Nicole Mae Pendilla Jamela Manzano Rola Janice Villamor Dorelyn Simora ASVP Advisers Prof. Rhys Camacho Prof Gleason Parcia

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

ALPAS WORKING TEAM Writers: Mary Shine Barcelona Mary Edcel Castillo Jan Dawn Javellana Niche Clarisse Jover Cashey Larruder Jamela Manzano Rola Janice Villamor Nicole Pendilla Dorelyn Simora Thrysha Claire Martin Ami Dallah Marquez Joan Batisla-ong Wycliffe Gumban Pauline Torrico Kimberly Gange Ranz Agreda

Editors: Kianne Francine Duspar Princess Mae Sampalocia

Lay out Patricia Marie Espina Trisha Czarina Tordesillas

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