Who would have thought that it would take me this long to get here? It's like waiting for the 12:00 PM lunch break when you’re in the office at 7:00 AM – time stretches longer than a stick of Pinoy's favourite isaw. But finally, the Universe served me up my own personal platter of dreams, and my, isn't it a feast!
I remember the days when I would beg the Universe for what I have now, like a starstruck fan begging for tickets to a Westlife reunion concert. I prayed, wished upon shooting stars, blew out birthday candles, and even looked for four-leaf clovers - just in case. And then, just like that, my prayers were answered. Not in an overnight miracle sort of way, but in that slow-cook adobo way - where the flavor gets more intense with every passing moment.
Only now, as I stare at my answered prayers, I feel the familiar twinge of anxiety, like the feeling you get when you're next in line for the karaoke and you've forgotten all the lyrics to "My Way." Maybe it's my Anxiety Disorder waving from the backseat, or the Manic Episode of my Bipolar Disorder deciding to take a snooze. Whatever it is, there's a hint of fear that's coloring this beautiful moment with a shade of "What if I screw this up?"
So, I turn back to the Universe, my long-time cosmic confidant, and say, "Okay, Universe, you've handed me the microphone. Now, can you make sure I remember the lyrics, hit the high notes, and not make a fool out of myself?"
I guess what I'm really asking for, aside from guidance on this new path, is a spoonful of confidence. The kind that makes you strut into a room and own it. The kind that tells you that you deserve every morsel of success you've achieved, like how you deserve that last piece of lechon on the fiesta buffet.
I need to believe that this moment is not just a lucky draw, but the result of years of blood, sweat, and tears - and I don't just mean the tears from chopping onions for my adobo. It's like understanding that the savory goodness of your adobo didn't come out of pure luck, but from your meticulous preparation, the hours of marinating, and your brave face against those tear-jerking onions.
So, here's a toast to the Universe, for answering prayers and for humorously reminding us to keep our seatbelts fastened because the ride isn't over yet. And as I prepare myself for this new journey, I remind myself to laugh in the face of fear, hold on to my faith, and own the stage like I'm the main act, not just the opening band.
The adobo is cooked, the microphone is in my hand, and I'm ready to sing my heart out. Thank you, Universe, for the spotlight. Now watch me as I strut into it!
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