Dead Dreamer

---

They always said, “dream big.”

But no one told me how far even the smallest dreams can feel.

They said, “time heals,” but never, “time humbles.”

Time does not simply mend– it shrinks. It coils your dreams tighter and tighter as vines of doubt and uncertainty sprout at every step– on solid stones, on bedrocks, even before you’ve moved forward. It determines. It ordains.

No one taught me how to bury—not plant—the fears, the shoulds, and the hows because I cannot afford for it to be the only harvest I know.

Until all I long for is to stand. Physically. Even barely.

I want to stand beside my parents– ignoring the crowd that mocks my messy hair, that insists I’ve missed out on life, without knowing this was my life.

To stand beside them wearing a necklace of gold, free from anxiety gripping my throat. To not only wave at the camera but see their eyes glisten, mirroring mine but mindless of the tracks that almost got me broken.

But above all, I want to stand for myself. Even with the ocean of tears I swallowed to appear strong, to lead stronger, to endure as the strongest.

Even as I carried the weight of unfinished books, stories left unwritten, and the awaiting chapters where I forced myself to drop the pen.

Even when all I tasted was the salt of my own grief. Even when every bite of life turned bitter—just so I would not drown in false hope that things would get better.

To stand and hear, “Proud ako sa’yo, ‘Nak,” for I know I would never have run this race without the twinkle in their eyes–even when my tears reached depths higher than my hope, when all it did was make my heart clench and sore.

If it weren’t for myself who silenced myself enough to not let people hear my secret roars.

And maybe… I would never have run at all, if not for the terror of an empty chair where my dreams were left unattended, if not for the jealousy stealing my air—to outlive and devour—as I stare into the mirror…

And there, I see–

Not just a dead dreamer,

But someone’s still chasing…

The young believer

by Mae Adelaine Alarcon, Associate Literary Editor