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Kausa, kaduha, maihap ra.
Ang mga laag sa mag barkada.
Ug kini napun-an na.
Sa Bohol, diin sila milarga.

Pageskwela ang gihinungdan
Sabay silang naglayag. apan:
Ang usa wala kakuyog kay nasakit.
Duna poy wala, sa trabaho nasangit.

Di man kompleto tuod, pero,
Nagpakalingaw ang mga giro
Kay panagsa ra tawn magsalo
Pawala sa mga labad sa ulo.

Busa unta kini masundan pa,
Ug sa umaabot kompleto na.
It's a depressing night. I'm alone.

Remember my first entry, that I couldn't express myself? It translated through my writings.

It's hard, really. It's my first ever contest and I don't want to waste the opportunity given. But you see, it's hard to imagine yourself fighting a war you know you will loose.

Some may say, at least you fought trying. Well EFF that. It matters most and it's sentimental if you fought for something you truly love, but in my case it isn't. I love my org but never this genre.

Maybe I could, but time wouldn't permit.

I could try another genre where I could say I could fight my best and I could do my all to really best all the contestants. At least by this genre I could feature my very best. Winning or loosing, it will really matter because it's what I like.

There's a big difference.

And I thought a leader could talk me out through this depressing state, with all the expertise and experience.

But I think not.

He is with me on the notion of quitting. I guess it truly is the right decision. Who knows?

Give me a moment of silence and I couldn't defend myself. Give me encouragement and conversation; and maybe, just maybe, I could try and weigh things out and be the selfless and just contestant everyone is thinking of.
I was so depressed that night that I wrote this.
That shadowed man,
Troubled and alone.
He who is selfish and miserable;
Constantly baffled by insecurity.

That proud man,
Tall and mighty.
He who thinks he knows all;
Constantly lecturing his false wisdom.

That egotistic man,
Unbent and undefeated.
He who wants to win all battle;
Constantly shaming in every rebuttal.

He who is unjust,
He who thinks of himself,
He who nobody likes,
He who calls himself a leader.
They say life's a bliss.
But what if
When you play the words, you stiff.
For a gift of tongue, you're not blessed.

Your opinion, unheard.
Your point, misinterpreted.
Your side, neglected.
Your existence, taken for granted.

Who says it's happiness;
When life itself is the maximum limit?
When you battle for your right?
The right to express what's in - deep.

It's a continuous struggle when you're your own foe.
It's an everyday cry of your unuttered woes.
A flower grew - bloomed,
Though doomed to short withered span.
The gard'ner so forced.

— The End —