The person I would want to be

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Photo credits: Buzzfeed.com

One of the activities during the TOSP formation program was envisioning who we wanted to be ten years from now. Now I know this is a common activity during many school events, but since it took place after graduation and at the point in my life when I should’ve already figured things out, it had a completely different effect on me.

So we were tasked to write in a little notebook for a certain amount of time. This is what I wrote:

She stood there, hair bobbing, white shoulder-cut loose blouse wrapping her upper torso like a cape, black sleek elephant pants swinging to the sound of red stilettos. She was confident.

It was around eight in the morning. You could tell that youth has not yet left her. Her breath smelled like coffee and sugar.

I sat down, a non-existent observer, sitting in one of the armchairs in her classroom. She’s a professor, trainer. I didn’t see whether it was students that she was teaching or professionals, but whoever they were, they were young too. She was driven to empower the youth.

Hers was an idealistic passion. Years working for media and corporations has watered her down, you could tell by her slouch, but it has also made her realistic to the point that she used loopholes in her dreams to create concrete plans.

And so she teaches.

The scene shifts. We’re at a veranda. She still doesn’t see me.

Her monochromatic boldness has faded into the background of daisies potted by the window still. No longer in heels, her feet are adorned with laces and floral patterns. Her light blue Sunday dress complements this.

Instead of coffee she comfortably sips on milk tea while lounging and waiting for one of her old friends.

It’s Sunday, eleven in the morning. The sunlight is comforting.

They start to arrive just as she finishes a poem in her head. And though it has not happened yet, I know that they’d waste away the afternoon with good stories and heated discussions. They are, after all, good writers with pens as swords and hearts on their sleeves.

Somewhere, someone is waiting for her to come home.

That’s me. That’s what I really want to be deep down. When it comes down to the truth, this is it.

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