I pick my poison, and it’s you.
In the world of words, nothing could ever surpass my love for journalism and writing. These pursuits are my lifeline, the drug I’m willing to take for a lifetime. They are my constant, my unwavering companions through the vicissitudes of life. Yet, I never anticipated that my passion for journalism would lead me to a love so profound, so personal.
Journalism has always been my sanctuary. It moves me in mysterious ways, teaching me not only to share the truth but also to hold a pen with purpose and conviction. However, along this journey, I discovered another kind of love — one that transcends ink and paper. I learned to love you, even from a distance.
Your presence is intoxicating, an elixir that both heals and wounds. Even when you’re not doing anything, you drive me insane with your mere presence. The scent that lingers in the air, the voice that commands the attention of the world — they captivate me, ensnaring my heart in ways I never thought was possible.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. Who would’ve thought that the attention I once devoted solely to journalism would be redirected to a campus journalist like you? Those Press Conferences were an incredible experiences, a convergence of talent and passion, and meeting you was the highlight.
But with that joy came the inevitable pain. Shatters echoed from my heart when I realized you already had a lover. She is your teammate, a fellow traveler on your journey through campus journalism. And I, I am but a mere stranger. Yet, she is one of the reasons you continue to shine so brightly in your work, and for that, I am grateful.
A love I thought would bloom through our shared passion for journalism ended before it even began. Your happiness in what you do and with whom you do it brings me a bittersweet joy. Seeing you thrive, your eyes alight with purpose and contentment, and it fills me with pride. But it also reminds me of what could never be.
As I stood on the NSPC podium, a mix of triumph and sorrow washed over me. We shared the same experience, stood on the same stage, yet a chasm lay between us. You shone among the best, stepping to the top of the podium with a grace and confidence that took my breath away.
Loving someone from a different region is not for the faint of heart. It is a slow, painful poison, a constant ache that gnaws at the soul. Every glimpse of you, every fleeting moment we share, brings both joy and pain.
Padayon, my beloved campus journalist. Continue your journey with the same passion and dedication that first drew me to you. I hope our paths cross again someday. Until then, I’ll hold onto the memories, cherishing the brief moments we shared.
Your light, your essence, will always be a part of me, a reminder of a love that grew from a shared passion for words and truth. And though it may never be realized, it is a love that has shaped me, strengthened me, and, in its own way, fulfilled me.
So, here’s to you, my poison and my muse. May your journey be filled with the same fervor and joy that you have brought into my life. Until we meet again.
