Every morning, my day begins with the invasion of my personal space by strangers. The crowded bus jostles and bumps, causing elbows to collide with mine. As I navigate the familiar roads of my city, I find myself standing or sitting, longing for something more. Like a schoolboy clutching his Nickelodeon lunchbox or a teenager lost in her own world with her headphones on. Or sometimes I see a mother with her adorable toddler, carrying with her something precious and meaningful.
It has been two weeks since I graduated from college, and now I find myself in my first week at a job that I didn’t necessarily choose, but had to accept due to the harsh reality of the unemployment rate in our country. How can one refuse a generous offer in such desperate times? Only those who are privileged enough can afford to do so.
In this world, there are two types of fresh graduates: one who believes that after years of studying, they deserve a break before plunging into the world of capitalism and corporations; while the other believes that time is running out and there is no time to waste. They must chase their dreams, meet expectations, and accomplish their never-ending list of goals. I belong to the latter group.
As a commuter, my travel experiences have always been a constant in my life. However, being a part of the working class adds a different flavor to my daily commute, especially when I’m headed to a job that I am pushing myself to be grateful for, even though I lack passion for it. My dream job and ideal company are out there somewhere, and I find myself yearning for the day when I can be a part of them. I am a slave to my desires, carrying them with me wherever I go. But I do not see them as burdens that I want to be rid of. Instead, I see them as my children, something I want to nurture and watch grow.
My longing for the things I dream about during my commute is what fuels me as a person, similar to how the bus I’m traveling on relies on fuel to function. Having these yearnings is like being perpetually thirsty, even if you have water, you can never be fully satiated because you are trapped on a deserted island all by yourself. It feels like every step you take that doesn’t bring you closer to your dream is like singing the wrong lyrics to a song you’ve written. It’s supposed to be something you know by heart, but somehow the rhythm no longer works.
We often discuss those who are lost and lack direction or purpose in life. The emptiness they feel due to inadequacy is a nightmare, and I sympathize with their pain. However, we seldom talk about those who know what they want but feel trapped and limited in their ability to achieve their ambitions. Some people may never understand the insatiable thirst that defines me, and I don’t expect them to. Even though I feel the weight of my desires, I am the only one who carries it.
It’s never easy to crave something that is not yet available in your life’s menu. But I yearn for my dreams and I am willing to face the flames along the way. My yearning commutes with me because I allow it to. I long for a life that I have yet to live. I know it’s insensitive to romanticize something that others dread, especially the hardships of commuting, particularly in a country like the Philippines with its abysmal transportation system. However, I have learned to use my commute as an outlet for daydreaming, satisfying my longing for a different life that may or may not come true at this time.
Some young adults are conditioned to believe that it’s not okay to want something beyond their reach. They grow up thinking there is nothing more to life than what they have become accustomed to. Others are taught to believe that the world is vast and filled with endless possibilities to achieve their dreams. People cope in their own ways, and it doesn’t make them bad or ungrateful. They are simply trying to survive in a world of scarcity.
In my case, if standing or sitting on a bus going to work is the only way for me to live through these longings, then I am content with taking the long, alternate route for now. My name is Jessica Ann Evangelista, a 23-year-old aspiring journalist who yearns to leave a lasting impact on the world.
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