Let there be Light

Remwell James L. Capin

The light came out and it gave a vision of hope to my almost dying belief that one

day I could defy the unfortunate instances of failure. It was a beautiful façade; beautiful

enough to hide my pain from being drowned by excruciating melancholy. What’s more to

be blinded with thode rays? What’s more to follow a certain light impossible for me to

reach out? If failure was a disease, it could have killed my system long time before.

There’s no turning back. My tracks are already on. It’s either I die wondering or I move

learning.

When was the last time I felt a satisfaction of a momentous victory? My last quiz?

Probably not. I got a good grade but not good enough to outscore everyone. My last

group performance? Nope. Our group may have the highest rate but still did not met the

perfect score. My last graduation ceremony? Certainly not. It’s more of a nightmare for

me.

Reminiscing those bitter old moments, I can’t remember a single moment I

smiled in the whole ceremony. My soul was dead that time. While everyone was busy

making moments on one of the most memorable day on their lives, there I was in my

mother’s side, contemplating how I ended up having lesser medals compared with my

other colleagues. Yes, I may have sat on the frontmost part of the row but sitting on the

first chair on the corner left may have been a better feeling. I did everything to exalt my

grades. I got almost 95 but still, someone on the farther side of our section exalted a
higher point percentage than mine. I failed. My eight medals were not enough to

decorate my neck with utmost festivity. If only I have done better. If only my teachers

were as kind as the other sections, I could have stood a chance to outperform all of

them. I know I can, but still- I failed.

In my most depressing moments of my life, I tend to ask myself, “Are my efforts

not enough?” When I first auditioned for campus journalism, I failed. Though in the

second one, I got accepted and won first place in feature writing category during the

“Divisions Schools Press Conference”. The third one was my most heartbreaking one.

Considering that I was the Editor-in-Chief in our school paper back when I was in grade

12, all the pressures were exhausted directly to me since it was the first school paper

launch in the history of our school. A week before the competition, I was not able to

have a proper training for I prioritized much in polishing our paper to be passed before

the contest as reference of our entry. No school-paper, no DSCP. And so, I exerted my

body and blood, together with my school-paper adviser and layout artist to get all things

done. Then the competition proper came. It was more of nervousness at first, and a lot

more of disappointments at the end.

My competitors were already there- those I defeated on the last schools press

conference. I stood nervous, knowing I was not able to harness my writing. I also saw

my trainer last year. As much as he wants me to represent for Panabo National High

School, too bad I was already studying at Panabo City Senior High School that time. It

was a pioneer school which gave me a difficult time to handle the pressure of being the

first EIC on our school paper. And as much as I wanted him as my Trainor, too be he

already had his own participant. When the competition started, my hands were shaking
involuntarily. Time was running fast. We were already given an hour to write. My

thoughts were rumbling, as if a storm was happening inside my head. I never stopped

writing, not until the time ran out…and it’s over. I already expected a hard defeat but it’s

more painful when I actually heard the announcement. No RSPC for me that time. I

failed.

Failure has always been a trademark on my pessimistic head. I always fail. It’s

like following a light with no certain endpoint. I thought it would always be that way. But I

was wrong. It was in college when I finally found the light I was looking back then. For

years, I have been much engaged in counting failures rather than blessings. It was also

the time I realized that failures are blessings as well. Whenever I fail, I learn. The side-

effects of failing are those that would keep me stronger and boulder. It’s as if God was

trying to humble me by experiencing what it feels like in the bottom. Eureka! I found the

answer!

Being enslaved with my own mindset of experiencing failures is like having a

suicide. Everytime I think of not being able to reach my expectations, it seems like I was

slowly killing myself. And that was all in the past. What’s more important is the present

juncture. If I might fail in the future, at least I won’t be thinking the same way again. It’s

more of a lesson than a regression. Life may beat us down in the ground but it will

always be our choice to either stand or remain beaten. When I failed to win the last

DSPC, I motivated myself more to improve my writing skills. When I failed to bag all the

medals in our graduation ceremony, I promised myself to maintain my exemplary

performance in college. I also learned that there’s no such thing as perfection. The word

best would always depend on how you perceive it. For me, best is when I get to satisfy
my efforts. Whenever we feel like the penumbra of misery is slowly eating us, fear us

not for we are capable of suppressing it. When darkness calls upon the pessimistic side

in our head, be the living hope which ignites an emblem of faith saying- let there be

light.