At dawn on September 24, 2023, I wanted Taal Volcano to explode and wreak havoc throughout Metro Manila. It had been spewing a record-high volume of sulfur dioxide over the year. What’s stopping it now?
A few days before the final exams, we were told to take every precaution—to avoid getting out to not inhale dangerous smog spreading in the air. “Come on, Taal. Show us what you got and bring us to our knees,” I kept thinking to myself. Along with its inevitable and foreseeable eruption are my hopes and dreams, too.
I was walking on willpower alone as I walked with every uncertain step through the eerily quiet and empty streets leading up to Malcolm Hall in U.P. Diliman. I wanted to be hit by an over-speeding bus. I wanted a gunman to shoot me point blank. I was praying for an act of God. I was desperately grasping at straws for anything that was beyond my control to not take the last exams. I wanted an excuse.
As I sat in the freezing chair inside the room, Justice Leonen unexpectedly visited and delivered his inspirational talk, encouraging us to take everything slow and live in every moment. He said that the only thing that should matter is the question right in front of us. Once done with the question, we must immediately move on to the next. Everything must be taken one step at a time.
I cried as he left the room, powered with determination to muscle through the day. 8 o’clock in the morning and the bell rang. It’s going time.
Everything in between was a blur from that point forward. Then the final bell rang at 5 o’clock in the afternoon. I raised my hand, waited to be allowed to go out, and immediately headed straight to the bathroom, where I cried the last remaining tears in my body. I splashed some water on my face and silently made my way out.
The guards in the lobby clapped as they congratulated everyone exiting the halls. I sat at the far-left corner of the van designated to bring us to University Avenue. From afar, I could hear chants and warm applause.
The crowd was thick, but at the center of it was a footpath, as if welcoming each tribute that made it out alive from the Hunger Games. I saw my mother and friends. I was surrounded by hugs, and once again I cried hysterically and out of control.
Part of me still didn’t know why I cried. Was it exhaustion? Was it because it was finally over? All I knew was that it felt like the whole weight of the world was quietly lifted from my shoulders.
“Anong gusto mong kainin?” my mother asked. I couldn’t remember what I said, but I felt that everything was going to be okay.
