08/08/2026
๐๐๐๐ง๐จ๐ฅ๐ | ๐จ ๐ช๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐ช๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ด๐๐๐
โ๏ธ ๐๐ฒ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐๐ข๐ฅ๐ ๐. ๐๐๐ญ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ง (๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ข๐ด๐ต ๐บ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ'๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐ง๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ช๐ด ๐ข ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ 12 - ๐ก๐ช๐ณ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ)
๐๐ซ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐ข๐ ๐๐ซ๐ญ๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฌ: Deniel Abarca, Gian Erjas , Mariefel Reyes
๐๐๐๐ง๐จ๐ฅ๐ | ๐จ ๐ช๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐ช๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ด๐๐๐
โ๐๐๐จ๐ก๐ ๐ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐ฌ๐๐ฃ ๐ ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฃ๐.โ
My teachers said it as if it were simple. As if it were truth. As if it were something that did not need to be questioned.
I was called by that nameโ๐๐๐๐. I was crushedโshrunk down to an object, an irritating echo, something easier to trample than to appreciate. And when that word is repeated often enough, it stops sounding like an insult and starts sounding like an identity.
๐ณ๐๐๐โempty, hollow, worthless; something that does nothing but make noise.
๐๐๐๐๐๐.
๐๐๐-๐๐๐.
๐๐๐๐๐.
๐๐ค๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐.
Each one did not cut all at once, but slowly, they pierced until they etched inside me, filling spaces I did not know were vulnerable. I carried them in silence because no one asked if they were excruciatingly painful. No one wondered if I were bleeding.
I am not the top student whose name rises above everyone else. My efforts do not earn medals or certificates. I am not the one who leads, nor the one whose presence commands attention. When praise and recognition are handed out, they pass right over meโas if I were never even there.
So I learned to exist quietlyโlingering between achievements, living beneath expectations, hiding in the margins where no one bothers to look. I will not pretend otherwise. I do not excel in the ways others admire. I am not outstanding in academics. I do not stand out in extracurriculars. I do not stand where the light naturally falls.
But what they mistake for emptiness is something far more powerfulโunseen depth.
Because what does it really mean to be empty?
Is it the lack of recognition? The absence of applause? The failure to fit standards made for people unlike me? Or is it their refusal to listen to what that โnoiseโ is trying to become?
They see an empty ๐๐๐๐ and expect nothing but clatterโsharp, hollow, meaningless. To them, it is just scrap, something that echoes only because it has no substance. But even an empty ๐๐๐๐ holds sound inside it; every tap brings out a note waiting to take shape. And sound, when given rhythm, becomes so much more.
What they trash as mere clatter can turn into a callโeven a melodyโa voice that deserves to be heard. Yet when that sound comes from something they have already decided is empty, it is silenced before it is ever appreciated.
So I learned to be like that forgotten ๐๐๐๐.
I learned to hold my sound within, to stay still so I would not rattle into noise they would only mock. I learned to hold back my rhythm before it could be called a noise, to quiet my echo before it could be dismissed all over again. And so the sound stayed trapped within thin wallsโunformed, unheardโmistaken for emptiness when it was only a voice no one cared enough to listen for.
Even my classmates called me ๐๐๐๐, as if I were born hollow. But a ๐๐๐๐ is never empty by natureโit is misused and left hollow, even though it was made to hold, to carry, and to keep something precious. If I seem empty, it is not because I started that way, but because no one ever cared enough to nurture and sustain what was already inside me.
And all this time, I have been holding far more than they realize.
I have endured being overlooked without losing the will to keep trying. I have learned in silenceโin ways that cannot be easily measured but grow deep and strong. I have felt deeply, understood fully, and found meaning in places where no recognition ever came.
My strength does not shout for attention. It does not demand praise. It simply survives.
There is a quiet kind of resilience that grows in people like meโ the kind that is built not from praise, but from persistence. The kind that does not break easily, because it has already been bent and shaped by words meant to limit and define it.
Yet school is supposed to be more than just comparison and quiet judgment. It should be a second homeโa place where students are seen, heard, and accepted for who they are, not just for what they can achieve. It should be where voices are amplified, not silenced; where potential is uncovered, not dismissed. But for some of us, it becomes a place where labels ring louder than names, and belongingness depends entirely on how well you perform.
I am not empty.
I am just unfilled.
Not because I lack the capacity to hold great things, but because no one ever chose to place something of worth within me.
And perhaps that is what troubles them most.
Because one day, the silence they laughed at will speak. The presence they ignored will stand tall. The person they reduced to a mere object will become someone they can no longer ignore.
Not loud.
Not sudden.
But undeniable.
And when that day comes, the word ๐๐๐๐ will no longer echo as an insult.
It will stand completeโcarrying all the melodies they once heard as a noise.
๐๐ซ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐ข๐ ๐๐ซ๐ญ๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฌ: John Deniel R. Abarca, Gian B. Erjas, Mariefel P. Reyes
