18/06/2025
Moving within the Loop
I felt my heart skip a beat when I received my test paper from our final exam yesterday. But—spoiler alert—it was just not about a failing grade. It was about the weight of every failure that seemed to follow like an unpaid bill.
It was another episode in the classic series: "I should have done better, but unfortunately, I didn’t."
Staring blankly at the quadrangle from the second floor, I decided to go down and comfort myself in any way—like what any emotionally unstable adult with questionable coping mechanisms would do.
I walked straight to the food stalls and ordered a burger, as if biting into it would somehow undo academic disappointment.
When I bit into the hollow bread and one-inch patty of hope, it suddenly hit me. This was not just about one exam, one bad day, or one bad week. It was a cycle. A default setting. It was as if no matter how many hours I flipped through notes and climbed the high walls of life’s endless hurdles, the results stayed constant.
I smiled bitterly and chewed on the snack. I sipped the pineapple juice I bought in the same stall, which had as much flavor as my will to keep going that day, by the way.
And I sat there for a while, watching the world move around me. From the chatter of students, to the rustle of leaves in the slight afternoon wind. Everything felt distant, like background noise to the loud silence in my mind.
It was not just this one thing. It was everything that I’ve been trying so hard to carry with a straight face.
The late-night struggles. The sacrificed responsibilities. The “kaya rani” lies. The quiet hopes I barely whispered even to myself. One after another. Like Atlas, bearing the burden of the same pattern but with slightly worse posture.
I looked around, trying to ground myself. People passing by, laughing, calling out to friends, and moving forward. Meanwhile, I sat there frozen. It felt like life had drawn a circle around me and muttered, "Figure it out, I’ll wait."
I used to think that healing meant breaking free. Now, I wonder if it simply means to keep on moving, even when inside a never-ending loop—even if it’s just biting into the same cheap burger after yet another failure.
Time moves in circles. Struggles return. But healing still happens, even in repetition.
And if I am still here, racing the same circles, I doubt I am the only one. Surely, there must be others out there, equally dizzy, equally trying to glue their broken bits while everything tilts.
Learning the rhythm of it all will never be linear. It is frustrating, slow, and sometimes impossible. But as I glanced at my feet, somehow, I was still moving. One inch at a time.
And maybe one day, waking up in stillness and no longer carrying the heavy weight of dizziness will feel as easy as getting up. Or at least easier than walking.
Words by Helarie Gaile S. Goc-ong
Illustration by Bryan Dexter D. Ubas
