Campus: A boat of choices and metaphors

JUST imagine yourself in the middle of the vast ocean of seemingly unending proportions, riding a flimsy boat that is barely holding itself.

The waves crash against your boat, pulling and pushing you in every direction possible. You can’t move because you are being overwhelmed by the harsh factors that are attacking you until you are numb and just plain hopeless. Now see this metaphor as an unadulterated representation of life—that we are just mere boats sailing the treacherous realms of the sea that is life as tsunami waves of problems crash against your boat, threatening to capsize it, threatening to overwhelm it. And you, as the great sailor of this boat, have two options left.

You can remain to hope and continue to sail against the lethal walls of water, or jump, abort your mission, and lose all hope as the mangy tentacles of Poseidon’s realm drag you to its dark nether.

If you choose to grab onto that meager sliver of hope in your heart that stayed just like in the story of Pandora’s pathos, then good for you.

You’ve found out that life may be full of trepidations and problems, but you faced it headstrong. That feeling that courses through your veins fills your being. It’s triumphant. It’s heroic. It’s victorious. It’s like seeing the first ray of sun pierce the heavens as winter’s stay has expired and was replaced by spring. People express this feeling in many ways, drawing out the toxic from their system. You can see it in every stroke that brush makes on the canvass. You can see it in every note that the maiden’s sweet voice hits. You can see it in every movement the dancer makes as he let the music lead him. It’s blissful and beautiful at the same time. It’s the real vestige of magic in this world.

If you choose to just abandon the boat and relieve yourself from the painful misery the world has put unto you, then good for you. That’s your choice and nothing and no one in this world can tell you otherwise. Maybe for them it is bad, sinful, but it’s just a matter of perspective. There are people who have been sucked deeper into the black hole of doomed hopes and dreams that they just see the world as nothing but a labyrinth, each corridor promising yet another horror. You see the world in a hazy vision of black and white—colors are nothing but just a dream from a faraway memory; to live or not to live. To go through the easy way out or continue the anguish-filled torture we call life. It’s hopeless, sad, and paranoiac.

The swift blow of the Sword of Damocles, the Kiss of Death, that you’ve hoped long before has been longed overdue. You became impatient so you decided to do it on your own instead. First, it started as small, thin, red strips on your wrist, and then it escalated to an addiction of wide cut where blood oozed out. Until then, the last vestige of sanity you have, and you snapped. Then the sudden realization, the cold hard truth, hits you hard: no one will ever care until you tie rope and jump down the chair.

I believe we have a choice in this world about whether we continue to fight to live, or to surrender and die, choice to whether we live or exist. I had made my choice ages ago, and I am more or less happy about it. I like my choices. I hope you like yours, too. (Joseph Dominic S. Ferrarez/Corpus Christi School)