EVANESCENCE
My Daily Bread
by Neil Villagonzalo
I was not naturally gifted in writing. Unlike the tales of prodigies who effortlessly produce beautiful prose, my journey into the world of essays was fraught with difficulty and frustration. From a young age, I grappled with words, unable to bend them to my will. One particular memory from fifth grade stands out as a testament to my struggle.
It was a humid afternoon, and the air was thick with the impending approach of evening. My classmates had long gone, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. Yet there I was, still seated at my desk in the dimming classroom, with my English teacher, Teacher Grace, patiently waiting for me to complete a simple three-paragraph essay about myself. The clock ticked past 5:30 pm, and the shadows grew longer outside the window. The task seemed impossible. How could I distill my existence into mere sentences when each word felt like an obstacle?
Earlier that day, Teacher Grace had introduced the lesson with the basics: Introduction, Body, and Conclusion. Simple enough in theory, but in practice, my mind was a tangled web of thoughts, none of which seemed to connect.
The classroom, silent as if angels passed by, felt like a hollow void amplifying my inadequacies. I glanced at the window, yearning to escape into the dusk, but the words wouldn’t come.
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Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I managed to scrape together a few sentences. My essay was painfully thin, barely filling a single page. Each word had been wrested from the depths of my anxiety, and the result was a stilted, awkward narrative that didn’t seem to capture anything meaningful about who I was. The real challenge, however, came next: titling the essay. Exhausted and desperate to leave, I hastily scribbled “Me, Myself, and I” at the top of the page. It was the best I could muster under the circumstances, a testament to my desire to be done with the ordeal.
Two years passed, and writing remained a formidable adversary. In high school, while my peers seemed to navigate their essays with ease, I continued to struggle. Each assignment was a battle, each word a reluctant ally. My essays were frequently returned with a sea of red marks, and my grades reflected my ongoing difficulties. In seventh grade, another challenging moment arose when our English class, led by Mrs. Desuyo, required us to write a minimum of 20 journal entries per quarter. This meant producing 2-3 essays each week. Initially, I felt a sense of confidence. Unlike my fifth-grade self, I could now write a three-paragraph essay without much difficulty. However, this confidence was soon shattered when I realized my classmates were submitting essays with five or more paragraphs, earning nearly perfect scores while I struggled to score 19 out of 30.
The stark difference in our performances was disheartening. My essays, although complete, lacked the depth and sophistication of my peers' work. Mrs. Desuyo, a devout Christian and the wife of a pastor, valued reflection and introspection in writing—qualities that seemed to elude me. Desperate to improve my grades, I turned to a small book given to me by my grandmother: the Daily Bread. This devotional book contained essays on various topics, each accompanied by a Bible verse.
In a moment of desperation, I decided to use the Daily Bread as a source of inspiration. I began incorporating its content into my journal entries, subtly paraphrasing the essays and weaving in the Bible verses. To my surprise, this tactic worked. My grades improved, and my essays received higher marks. For the rest of the school year, I relied on the Daily Bread to guide my writing.
By the time I reached eleventh grade, my writing journey took yet another challenging turn. Since starting high school, I have been a part of the radio broadcasting team. In this role, my writing was limited to concise news articles, often just two paragraphs long with one to two sentences each. It was a format I had grown comfortable with, and I found a sense of accomplishment in crafting these brief, to-the-point reports.
However, senior high school brought a new set of demands. Our school paper’s deadline was suddenly moved up, and the editorial team found themselves in a frantic rush to meet the new submission date. Our school paper adviser, Ma'am Diaz, had no choice but to assign additional articles to everyone, including those of us on the radio broadcasting team. Typically, we were exempt from writing for the school paper due to the significant differences in writing styles, but this time, we had no choice but to step up.
As my teammates and I gathered around a table, the weight of the task ahead was palpable. I could feel my anxiety rising with each passing minute. Writing news articles for the newspaper was a daunting challenge; it required more depth, structure, and length than I was accustomed to. While my teammates seemed to tackle their assignments with relative ease, I found myself struggling. Every few minutes, I would turn to my co-reporters, asking for advice: “How did you structure your paragraphs?” “What points did you include?” “How did you transition between ideas?”
Despite their helpful responses, my mind remained a jumble of fragmented thoughts. The task was to write a six-paragraph news article about our recent school fair, YSTEC, a popular event filled with games, performances, and food stalls. The event itself was rich with material, but translating that into a coherent article felt impossible. I stared at my blank page, the cursor blinking mockingly at me, a constant reminder of the time ticking away.
Slowly, painstakingly, I began to piece together my article. I described the vibrant atmosphere of the fair, the excitement of the students, and the hard work of the organizers. Each sentence felt like a small victory, but the process was agonizingly slow. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitant and uncertain. Every word seemed to require immense effort, and I constantly doubted whether I was capturing the essence of the event accurately.
The hours dragged on, and my teammates finished their articles one by one. I was left alone at the table, the only sound being the soft tapping of my keyboard and the occasional rustle of paper. The pressure was overwhelming. I could feel the weight of my own expectations and the fear of letting down my team. My head was pounding, and my eyes were tired from staring at the screen for so long. Eventually, I managed to complete my six-paragraph article. It was a relief to finally finish, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy. The article had taken me far longer than it should have, and I knew it lacked the polish and fluency of my peers’ work. Yet, it was done, and that, in itself, was an achievement.
Submitting the article to Ma'am Diaz, I felt a mix of relief and apprehension. I knew it wasn’t my best work, but I had given it my all. Looking back on this experience, I realized that my struggle with writing was far from over. Each new challenge brought its own set of difficulties, but it also offered opportunities for growth and learning.
Looking back on my writing journey, it has always been a struggle. From my earliest memories in fifth grade, when I couldn't finish a simple three-paragraph essay, to the challenges I faced in high school and beyond, writing has often felt like an uphill battle. I frequently questioned whether my difficulties stemmed from a lack of intelligence, a poor understanding of the material, or simply an absence of passion for the craft.
However, amid all the frustration and self-doubt, there was one constant source of inspiration and joy: my family. Writing about and for my family has always brought me a sense of fulfillment that I rarely found elsewhere. I have always been a family person. My life revolves around my loved ones, and everything I do is motivated by my desire to make them proud and happy. This deep connection to my family has profoundly influenced my writing. Whenever I wrote about my family, the words seemed to flow more naturally, and the task, which often felt like a chore, transformed into a labor of love.
One of my earliest memories of writing for my family dates back to my childhood. On my parents' birthdays and during Christmas, I would write poems for my mama and dad. These poems were simple and unpolished, but they came from the heart. I remember the pride and joy I felt as I presented my creations to them, and their smiles and words of encouragement fueled my love for writing. It was during these moments that I realized writing could be a powerful way to express my feelings and connect with my loved ones.
This theme of family-centered writing continued into my academic life. In the second year of college, we were assigned to write a short story for my Creative Writing class under Sir Bengan. My draft, which talked mostly about my family, was one of the easiest pieces I had ever written. The process felt natural, almost cathartic, as I poured my feelings for my family onto the page.
The realization that writing could be enjoyable when it involved topics I was passionate about was a significant turning point for me. It became clear that my struggles with writing were not necessarily due to a lack of skill or intelligence but rather a disconnect between the subject matter and my interests. When I wrote about topics that resonated with me, particularly my family, the words came easily, and the process felt rewarding. This insight helped me understand that my writing difficulties were often situational. When faced with topics that did not interest me, I struggled to find the motivation and creativity needed to produce quality work. However, when I wrote about my family, the task felt less like an obligation and more like an opportunity to share something meaningful. This understanding allowed me to approach writing assignments with a different mindset, seeking ways to connect the given topics to my interests and experiences.
Reflecting on my journey, I realize that my struggle with writing has been as much about finding my voice as it has been about mastering the technical aspects of the craft. When I write about my family, I write with clarity, purpose, and passion. These qualities are often missing when I tackle topics that do not resonate with me. Understanding this has been liberating, allowing me to embrace my strengths and work on my weaknesses with a more positive outlook.
Writing is a deeply personal endeavor, and what works for one person may not work for another. For me, the key to finding joy in writing lies in my connection to my family. They are my inspiration, my motivation, and my greatest source of pride. Whenever I write about them, I am reminded of the love and support that has shaped my life, and this gives my writing a sense of purpose and authenticity that I struggle to achieve otherwise.
In conclusion, my writing journey has been marked by challenges and breakthroughs, and can even be considered as a love and hate one. While I have often questioned my abilities and passion for writing, I have found that writing about my family brings me unparalleled joy and satisfaction. This realization has transformed my approach to writing, allowing me to embrace the process with a more positive and determined mindset. As I continue to write, I will carry this understanding with me, seeking out topics that resonate with my heart and inspire my creativity. Through this, I hope to continue growing as a writer and sharing the stories that matter most to me.