Cornered

I woke up this morning hearing my father shout in worry, “Huwag kang pumunta dyan, baka mahulog ka. (Don’t get there, you might fall.)”

It was Ianne, my two-year-old niece who climbed up the roof in a hurry from our second floor window, walking near the edge to reach the fruit from the guava tree. I was just so thankful that she was not hurt.

One good thing about being children is that they have fewer worries than adults do. An adult, with a more complex understanding on the causes and effects of things, would sometimes hesitate to pursue what he likes because of the fear of failing or getting hurt.

In some aspects of my life, I think I need to re-live the child in me.


It is the battle between comfort and achievement. It was the battle within me, which I never thought have existed.


“Get out of the box,” one of the many lessons I’ve learned from most of the writing seminars and meetings I’ve attended during college. I was even moved by the challenge of defeating “my own monster” which cripples me from doing my endeavors.

My blog “Burning Matchsticks”, tells a story of the same lesson I’ve learned from a priest when I was in fourth year high. In order to burn the whole matchstick, I must take the risk of getting my fingers hurt.


During the performance evaluation meeting I’ve sit in with my boss last week, he told me something like this, “You’ve done a tremendous job last year. You are one of the most talented people in the group. You just have to focus on your self development and step out of your comfort zone.”

He nailed it. Comfort Zone. That was the word.


How many times do I have to learn and re-learn this lesson? It has knocked my doors several times, was let in, was given an intimate welcome, but was not given a good stay. It goes out again, and eventually comes back with the hope that I had a wider lounge where it can sit pretty and feel at home. Most of the time, it walks out desperate.

On the other side of the room, I remain cornered by the four walls I myself has built. Yes, I am a prisoner of words unsaid… of things undone. I’m a prisoner of my own monster I myself has unconsciously nurtured.


The New Year has long been gone, but the syndrome is still with me. (Or it may be just another sign of the so-called Quarter Life Crisis. I don’t know.) Lately, I’ve been spending long hours a day, over-analyzing what to do with my life. I just felt everything is so messed up that there’s no other way to get out of it but to throw everything.

I want to venture to a new business. I want a new career. I want to go abroad. I want to attend self development seminars. I want to save money. I want to lose weight. I want to try things new….and the long list goes…endlessly. From a moment to another, the number of wants and needs increments and I realize, I haven’t crossed out anything yet.

I know, goal setting is another story.


Let’s just say that goal setting is solved. Then comes the start of the biggest challenge, to BEGIN. With all the fears and worries carried within our imaginary backpack, it takes big leap to commence. And this is where I am now. Hopefully I can move forward.


Ianne might be thinking, “There’s no way of getting that guava fruit if I’d just look at it.” And so I think, I can’t write and express anything by just staring at the blank piece of paper or computer screen. To light a matchstick, I’d need friction. To maintain the light, I’d need to endure a bit of pain. To excel, I’d need to take risks.

I’ve lots on my mind to write, but I forgot some. Nevertheless, I’m proud I was able to write another blog after a long time of being silent. I was under the fear of writing and not making sense at all, or writing and being criticized. At least, I started again. At the very least, I made it.

Partial Success or Total Failure? I’d rather go with the first one.


Let me end this with an excerpt from a poem.

“I used to have a comfort zone
where I knew I wouldn’t fail.
The same four walls and busywork
were really more like jail.”
— Author unknown, My Comfort Zone


(original article here.)