By: Coleene Dollente | Opinion Columnist
When the clock will place its hand on the time that everyone’s rushing to go home, I’d always find myself finding a place far from the noise of those who are asking, “Where are we hanging out today?” maybe I just don’t have a friend, nevertheless I still don’t find myself leaving the gate excited to sleep and rest.
Maybe I’m lucky enough to find the energy to stay here even until late at night–or maybe this is just the place I have to escape what’s been happening outside of these walls.
“I still don’t wanna go home,” what I always said to my friends who’d invite me to go home already.
Maybe you have also blurted out these words, where you don’t want to go home yet because of many problems that you want to stop worrying about for a while.
Particularly me. There’s this misery that I’m tired of witnessing every day.
THERE’S NO WAY TO ESCAPE THIS MISERY OF OUR COUNTRY
I always thought to myself, when will it be easy to go home.
I don’t wanna carry all the worries I have in a transportation that makes people like sardines. A traffic that I would rather let pass the time since I’ll just be stuck on it anyway.
This is a system that has been rotten for so long. When will it finally be easy for ordinary Filipinos to come home? For many commuters, long travel times, heavy traffic, and unreliable public transportation continue to make the daily journey home a difficult and exhausting part of everyday life.
Our public transportation has become a place where people forget to be human, everyone’s with their inner urge and monstrosity are exposed just to go home. To find a space for themselves that should have been easily given to us if only we don’t have to deal with these corrupt people that only care for power and position
I wasn’t made for the everyday jungle in train stations, I don’t think I’m amazing enough to always have a transportation of standing ovation? And I don’t even have the privilege to be comfortable in an air-conditioned four-wheel to sit alone.
My only privilege is to have this time when I can to let it pass, just so I won’t have to always deal with the system that always slaps me at its rush hours.
This outburst from misery is not enough. It may be my loudest cry for help, but it’s not only what I can yell.
So will you shout with me—the loudest call for accountability? Because my loudest cry for help may never even reach those sitting comfortably in the seats of abused power. But I refuse to reach the point where all I can do is cry for help.
When will someone finally do something about our everyday tears of sorrow?
How many more tears must fall before they become impossible to ignore? How many more voices must break before they are finally heard?
I might not want to go home yet, but I’m not asking to be saved. I demand to be heard. And we have to keep shouting until those in power can no longer pretend they cannot hear us.
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