Life was made not through cupcakes and rainbows.

Most of our days were punctured with

despair, but like always, we had to choose which way we were leading perspective. Either we
whine or just act on it would not change the fact that the world would revolve even if we found
ourselves stuck in our uncertainties.

Once, I’d been walled to the ideals and unhelpful positivity of teachers with the newly
reformed educational system. Online classes as what others would want to call it. I understood,
of course, that this was the way to which we could attain normality despite the flames of the
pandemic smoldering in every part of the country. However, what I fail to comprehend was the
consequences with which the higher-ups surely have thought of but had chosen to be indifferent
with.

I was ever aware that I wasn’t the only one who had troubled with this. You see, if the
discussions were hard to digest way back when face-to-face classes was implemented, online
classes tripled the hellfire experience. In here, my perception, intelligence, and mental capacity,
weren’t the only thing I have to be problematic about, because what concerned me was the
external factors at which I had completely no control.

Starting with the troublesome internet connection. It was hard enough to keep listening to
the blubbers of my professors in the small, cracked screen of my phone, it became even harder
when they sort of froze or else stutter in there. You couldn’t even complain about it because they
would either say you were lying or else just do your own research. I get that I was already a
college student, but hell, was I to just do things on my own? What was the use of the teachers in
the first place if I end up teaching myself?

Don’t get me wrong. I fostered no hatred for respectable teachers, but we were already on
edge because of how poor our internet was. They could at least show some sympathy and not be
sarcastic about it.

It was rather a good thing, there were some teachers—and trust me, they were mere a few—
who would come to record the discussion and publish it either on YouTube or Google Drive for
the students to browse if ever they get kicked out of the meeting.

Comes to the second trouble and I just couldn’t express how frustrating and infuriating it
was. Who in the world would conduct a recitation in a rainy day and mark students fail when
they wouldn’t answer immediately? Of course, it would be nothing more than my nice professor.
Imagine, the rain was pouring I could barely hear what he was blubbering about, my name got
called, and the signal kicked in with its usual problem. I was out before I could even blink. Being
a responsible student, I went back, muttering a genuine apology even though the blame wasn’t
mine to take. You know what happened? I just found out that I’d been marked 75 and so as
others before me who were having troubles with the internet.

When we tried to reason out, it was to hear his conviction that he wouldn’t change a thing to
not ‘tolerate’ our neglect.
 See, this was how aggravating the circumstances were. It was more than enough to stir the
student’s mind and turn insane what once sane. I hadn’t even mentioned the night of accomplish
the tasks that apparently outweighed the lesson proper itself.

The Options I Couldn’t Choose From

But I only have three options: neglect my responsibilities as a student, quit, or just suck it up
and continue. None of them were ever desirable. I didn’t even consider neglecting my tasks even
when it was so complex for my current knowledge. Doing so would disappoint not only
countless of people who had burdened me of their trust, but also myself who counted on the fact
of finishing all of this.

If I quit, it would just be as disrespectful than the first option. I was the one who signed up
for this. It even made me wonder what my past self was thinking for pursuing this kind of
education. A part of me believed it had something to do with not being left behind; yet, the most
rational side of me thought that it was the willingness and the passion to prove that I could carry
out the load of my subjects even when I had to do on my barely alive phone.

On the other hand, if it was the last option I picked, it would mean straining my mental
capacity further. It was either this or that. All of the choices required me to sacrifice one thing or
another, and I just had to swallow whatever consequence that might arise from it.

When I couldn’t decide, I’d been stalemated in my current condition. I didn’t pick or, more
like, I couldn’t. There was just this nagging thought that kept telling me if I did choose, I would
betray a part of myself. So, I didn’t. For my sake and for the people who believed in me, I just do
whatever it was that was needed to be done.

You see, at the end of the day, my choice would spell either my demise or my success. The
former option meant for me to be imprisoned in the walls of my insecurities, but the letter would
define a world where I chained half my life to the purpose of searching for an artificial happiness
that never existed—and I didn’t have the guts to pick between the two.