what she’s made of.
“Of cells, tissues, organs, water, and gases—obviously,” a pedant would say.
But for poets and idealists, “You were made for, and not made of.”
It was on the 27th of September, 2001 when love made another being’s existence possible, when it all made sense—why paths crossed more than once, why circumstances of both bliss and suffering loomed. And there was I—pudgy with round eyes, pale skin, plump lips, and imperfections thus far to be embraced. During my younger years,
I was an empty canvas; with so much to explore and has yet to become.
I was a locksmith; have unbarred a few doors as curiosity towards those around me was incontestable, questions were unceasing.
I was a carefree novelist; easily fascinated with life’s rawness and mundanity—writing them down, not caring if I either yield justice or even make sense at the very least, out of whatever’s genuinely pleasing in immediate sight.
Parang napabayaan sa kusina, as they call it. True enough, I learned to eat by myself at around 2. I would rather have my parents cook my favorite dinuguan than ask them to buy me toys I wanted, would rather munch on a bunch of chocolates than play games outdoors; and so I grew—horizontally. I was also annoyingly inquisitive, allowing me to unconsciously reach points of raising some of the weirdest questions you could ever imagine like, “Mommy, masakit ba kapag may dugo n—” anyways, I have always been the quiet and reserved one, finding it quite arduous to open up—thinking it would be better to constantly shrug off worries and just move forward. You can’t blame me though. There was this one time and I was at my first grade, you know, the typical episode of a mother asking how your day at school went and I, being proud and enthusiastic about it told her, “Pinag-aralan po namin yung physical traits ng Filipinos tapos alam mo ba ‘my, in-example ako ng teacher ko na may flat nose! Pinapunta niya ako sa harap kanina” and dude, she was fuming mad afterwards. That was the very first time I felt real fear—but not that I hold my mother liable. She told me that it was a subtle form of bullying but on my end, of course, I was basically overjoyed because I don’t get to be noticed a lot by people; so being called in front was a win for me back then.
Growing, I barely got the chance to like myself.
I wasn’t as strong as the others, afraid to take risks and therefore, always missing out on opportunities. I didn’t have as much talent nor was I standing out. Apparently, I was that one average girl with her awkward posture who often tends to embarrass herself in front of anyone. It might sound bleak and barren but I am still figuring myself out—relentlessly. After all, we lose some parts of ourselves along the way, go through detours and delays, get momentarily stuck in pauses and at times, a seasonal loop seems to pall on us even; but as they say, you only need a few good people to realize that amidst all and in spite of everything, life’s a rewarding battle—that it is unsparing in giving you a shot to explore, at your own pace.
These early to mid-chapters in a nutshell was comparable to a multi-genre film; t’was a paradox of twists and turns, of sunshine and storms. Sometimes, I feel myself and every so often, I don’t—not knowing if that’s just plain numbness or was I already at the fullest extent of exhaustion. However, one thing’s for sure—I have gradually learned to embrace my complexities, my inner demons not debarred so as not to let it consume me. I can be loud when I laugh over the simplest gestures as a result of my sabotaged taste of humor, be random in drowning people with compliments just so I could see them smile, and be shallow whenever unpredictable skies, bewildering sceneries and vast scapes of life amaze me. I can also be as calm and at ease for I wouldn’t waste air—blabbering and speaking straight foolishness, be stubborn each time I would lock myself alone in a room—recognizing my vulnerability and in the course of unearthly hours, facing recurrence of regrets, burden, and nightmares I would delightfully bury.
As I grew older, the problems I encounter were getting heavier than usual. It was tough to stand in conditions you never imagined or wanted to be part of, in the first place but that’s when I also learned to acknowledge someone bigger than me—it was God; that’s when I also learned to value surrender, stopped pretending that I can carry everything alone. He was the reason, the faithful cause, the much-needed push, and ultimately, the certain amongst uncertainties. Accordingly, such truth was enough to keep me going.
To dream as much as I live.
To conquer and not sulk oneself in jaws of the unnecessary.
To realize that there’s no harm in being different, that I don’t always have to live up to what society expects of me.
To embrace every aspect that shapes my becoming and brave paths far off the typical.
I am Ranzelle and this is my story,
still in motion,
still unfolding.