One Thousand, Ninety-Five

I wrote this article for our essay writing contest in 2015. I didn't win, but my friend from the star section did. It's not that I can't accept their decision that I lost, but I felt insulted, and robbed. They judged my work and accused me of copying it from the internet just because I came from a lower section.

I came from a poor family of 12. We rarely eat three times a day and I haven't lived on a peaceful home. I'm from a broken family and I live with my Mom. I have a younger brother whom lives with my dad. I am the eldest one, and my name is Reah.

Since I was young, father told me that we don't need to go to school anymore; for what's important is how to live by ourselves and that doesn't require to go to school... to waste time, money, and effort-- but by knowing how to plant crops, take care of the livestocks and the rice fields... and I completely disagree with that.

I am an ambitious child. I want to grow with flying colors in order to help my parents to raise ourselves from poverty.  My younger brother lowers my self-esteem to reach my ultimate dream-- to reunite our family and be grateful enough to live together, even I know that it's impossible.

It's 10 o'clock already and I should have slept. It's pitch black yet a burning desire lights up the surroundings. I try to find the missing piece, and my feet guided me towards the dusty library. There, I felt chills flow to my spine seeing the thick pile of books in front of me. I know it's making me to feel the urge to read one, and I did.

I picked a book. I started to scan the pages and decided to read it from the start. I know, I didn't go to school, but my mom told and taught me how to read and write because she told me, "It's one of the basic needs of a human to grow." With that, I read the book; I'm so engrossed that the sun smiled and touched my tan skin, telling me to have some rest. @koralike_ | kairms.blogspot.com

I went back to our home and told Mom about it. She's astounded for she thought no one would ever see her hidden crib; the library, which molded her for years... yet wrecked by a man she thought she dreamt and already read from the book, which is my dad.

She didn't disagree nor prohibit me from reading. She inspired me to read some more and we both talk about the books we both read, claiming we're both 'bibliophiles' and served as our bonding.

Every night, I would go to the library before I doze off to sleep. It feels like I'm filled with ecstatic emotions everytime the book takes me to different places... from forests to seas, from heavens and underworlds; I feel like I'm a different person everytime I'm hooked up on the book.

It became my hobby; a piece of me that I don't regret that I've let in. I've let every quote, every majestic word and thunderstriking plots to consume me. This lasted for 1,095 days... and I made a decision to leave my comfort zone; the library, to explore the wonders of my capabilities and apply those in reality, since I've been fully equipped for half of my life. I went to cities all by myself, leaving Mom my promise that I will rise ourselves from poverty. It's hard and vexatious, but I know I will benefit soon.

Years have passed and I became a writer. I became famous and owned a lot of publishing establishments. My life became an inspiration for today's youths, yet I always say to them that I owe it to the library, my mom, and God. The three of them made me forgot that I came from a poor and broken family. I persevered a lot, and I know Mom and God knows all of these.

I got a surprise call from my Mom telling me that Dad decided to complete our family again. Dad didn't knew the epitome of success I've reached, yet I'm blissful that his mind took the realization of family's importance. I told them about my achievements, and they are dumbfounded of what I've become. Our family decided to live in the city I work, and continued to fill up the empty pieces of myself by having leisure time with them through reading.

I am Reah, and this is real. I may be uneducated, but the books accompanied me to the darkest dilemnas of my life; and it took me 1,095 days to proudly say that in reading, hope springs!