The girl with a speech

My breathing’s hard. I think everybody can hear it. Terrible. Why? Why can’t I force myself to do it?

               I tighten my grip.  A brief outline of my face is seen in the metal doorknob. I’m red. Oh god. Did I come all this way just to freak out and run away?

                  “The only method for getting far is never, ever giving up”

                  No. I can’t do this. I should just go home.

                  “What defines failure? You fail if you stop trying.”

                  Blood is pounding in my head. Like someone is hitting me with a hammer. A big one, that is.

                  “I know I’ll get there. You can say it’s impossible. But, eventually, my efforts will be rewarded. I’ll get them to listen. I’ll get all of you to listen. Every. Single. One. Of. You.”

                  Is anyone staring at me? I bet they are. Looking at a strange girl who is staring at a doorknob. No, I can’t look up. That would be too embarrassing.

                  “We’re making progress. Our ultimate goal…. We’re almost there: it’s at the tips of our fingers.”

                  My knuckles are white. My grip is too tight. It begins to hurt…

                  “Nothing is impossible. I repeat: n-o-t-h-i-n-g i-s i-m-p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e.”

                  Can I make my heart stop? It’s like a terrified rabbit, poor thing: beating so fast.

                  “Don’t let other people’s disbelief make you stop”

                  What will happen if I walk away? Just like that? Gone?

                  “If you ever find yourself hesitating, lost: take a deep breath. Think about the reason why you are doing this in the first place.”

                  Everybody will be disappointed. They’ll never trust me again. “Liar”, they’ll say.

                  “Should you be doing this? For what? What will you get out of it?”

                  I’ll probably get news coverage. “The girl who gave up” they’ll say, or, rather, “The girl who chickened out”.

                  “Would it be better to just give up? Maybe you should find something better to do. Something… more beneficial”

                  I take a deep breath. This won’t do. I ought to take a walk, and there are two hours left anyways. Slowly, I release my grip on the doorknob and turn around. Take a deep breath, look up, and walk away briskly without checking if anyone has been looking at me.

The walkway to the gates is almost empty. As I walk out onto the street, I find my thoughts are wandering off the present moment. I hear a voice in my head, as clear as though it was yesterday. I find myself thinking over that event, and a small smile finds its way onto my face.

“Sometimes, life delivers a blow. A blow so hard, you can’t recover. The necessity of doing something is there, right in your face, and you can’t ignore it. You can’t just wander about the way you used to anymore. Something changes, no matter your actions. You will either drop into the abyss, or fly to heavens.”

If I ever had to find a word that describes most teenagers best, I would undoubtedly say, “Bored”. Every time you look at teenagers and notice the qualities unique to their age, they would most certainly be rooted in plain, old boredom. For example, take laziness. It is a very well known fact that all teenagers are extremely lazy. However, where does that come from? Also, why do teenagers waste their lives on such stupid things? Why is there so much pointless drama, why are they so cruel, so self-conscious? Why is it in teenage nature to obsess over silly things and take everything to the extreme? Furthermore, why are teenagers bored in first place? What motivates them? I will try to answer all these questions from my own experience, as imperfect as it may be.

I come from a middle class Filipino family. We are in no way poor, but also in no way rich. I have gone to an all-girl public school for my entire life, and being a third and the youngest daughter in a family of all girls; I’ve never had much interaction with men or boys. So, the very day I first had a chance to really talk with one, fell on my fourteenth year of life.

It was my older sister’s birthday party. She was already in college, and quite well known among the other students, so the place was pretty crowded. I was sitting with the sibling older than me by only a year, and the one I was closest with. We were holding soda cups in our hands, and giggled as we discussed the other guests over the loud music.

The next song, surprisingly, was a slower one. My sister, the host of the party, went over to the microphone, and shouted: “Now, we shall all dance in couples for the next ten minutes. Everybody who does dance a single time gets a punishment from me, so beware!” Everybody started getting into pairs as she giggled and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend.

A boy came up to the sofa we’ve been occupying and invited me over to dance. My sister and I exchanged glances as I rose up and took his hand. He put his arms around my waist; and I held mine on his shoulders.

We didn’t talk much during that dance, and I haven’t returned his smiles a single time, but for some reason, he wanted to dance with me again, and again, for the rest of the night. After a while the tension between us decreased, and we actually talked normally. In the end of the party, as it always happens, he took my number. I smiled as he departed, and rushed over to my sisters.

The next few days I spent waiting for him to call. He wasn’t hilarious, or very good looking, or anything like that, but because of the absence of any experience in the matter, I liked him very much. So, when my cellphone finally rang, I was as excited as I had never been before.

To make long story short, he soon asked me out. We dated for a quite a while, frequently going to parties, and I met many different people through him. However, the more time I spent with him, the less I liked him. First impression charms wore off. I got sick of him, and he of me: so it wasn’t of any surprise when we broke up after three months.

Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s only because of him that I was actually introduced to real teenage life. I became moody, emotional, obsessed with partying, and stopped caring about school.  Half of my friends ditched me after the break up, not saying anything, but it was easy to guess the reason: I wasn’t cool anymore.

As the rules go – if you aren’t cool, you don’t get invited to parties. I had nothing to spend my days on, so I just lay in bed, chatting on the Internet, watching movies; my sisters were mostly in the same position, except for the older one it was better: people get less crazy in college.

And so many days went: flying by in a blur of boredom, stress, and temporary relief at rare parties. Parents were disappointed, of course. They said I had such talents and was just throwing my life away. I disagreed, and so we shouted at each other constantly, with me getting punished just as often.

I stop by a café. My legs are tired: I’ve been running for the entire time.  It’s just one of the Starbucks places, pretty small, and for some reason not crowded at all. As I go in, I see somebody reading a book titled “Why the past was better” and the memories flood me again.

It was for a research project. The topic wasn’t chosen for me, there was a draw from the box. We had to pick a random slip of paper, and on every single one, there was your research question. For me it was “How were the global problems different in the past two centuries from modern times?” It didn't grab my attention at first – just another boring school project. I was as lazy in my research just as in any other area of my life that didn’t include partying or hanging out with friends.

The first books I picked were about global problems today. I didn’t even read the news, so I had a very bad idea of what was actually happening in the world. It struck me, I admit. Even through the lens of laziness I was able to see how horrible the situation was. So many problems, many of which I thought disappeared years ago.  It was crazy, absolutely insane for such things to exist in our great times. However, I thought, since the circumstances are so bad now, they must have been even worse before. I was sure of that, and the thought calmed me, as I moved on to the materials describing the past.

At first I failed at finding those books that addressed the topic directly; actually thinking and looking for connections in others hasn’t crossed my mind: I was too lazy for that. Soon, however, a book grabbed my attention. It was a simple volume, with the cover simply white with black letters on it. “Why the past was better” was its name. Since the library was closing and I had only two more days until I started writing the paper, I was obliged to take the book home.

I lay in my bed, just skimming through the pages. It was quite a good resource, I was hoping it had all the information I needed. Direct comparisons to the past centuries in all areas were quite interesting to read in the engaging manner the author presented them. I was already taking pleasure in reading before I even got to the global issues section. And it was there where I got a blow.

It was hard to believe. Even hundred years ago the world population was only a billion and a half. There was so much free space, there was far less poverty than today, the climate was good, the air and water were clean, there were so many more animals roaming around. A couple hundred years ago, places where no human foot has ever stepped on still existed. Even though there was more disease, and starvation was more common, the rates were so small comparing to modern times. The numbers of people dying were smaller. There was no such thing as obesity. People were hardworking and usually more grateful for everything than we are because their life demanded it.  More people lived isolated or in the countryside. There were no unemployment problems, no one was as crazy as today, and even though there was less freedom, people felt freer. No one was crowded in a city with the population of 10 million and there were no slums with 10 people living in an area of a table. There were fewer earthquakes, floods, or other natural disasters. No one really had to think about preserving the planet. No one had to wonder whether their children will be able to see the blue sky, the green forests, wonder about looking at the nature’s beauty. No one was screaming “global warming”, “overpopulation”, “disaster”, “the earth is dying”, “save the planet”.

The contrast was striking. Yes, I knew of all the fault of the past. However, with all the modern knowledge, and inventions, it was fully in our power to change the evils of the past and fix the problems of the present. Still, no one did anything, or so it seemed to me at the moment.

As I put the book aside for the day, I couldn’t sleep. I just lay awake, with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling. It was as though something clicked, a switch has been turned inside me, and I transformed. From that moment on, I started caring.

“Can I have some hot chocolate and the chocolate doughnut please?” I smile at the cashier as she asks for my name. “It’s Helen. Thank you.” I accept the change and wait for my order at the side. Then, I take my small snack and start looking for a table; I want to enjoy some isolation. Thankfully, there is an empty one at the far corner of the café, and that’s where I head. I take the sip of hot chocolate. This is my usual order for more than year. I never made any modifications to it whatsoever.

“Helen, Helen, wake up!” someone nudged me. I slowly opened my eyes and sat up straight – we were in the middle of a lecture in English class. I haven’t been able to sleep for the past night, thinking over my discovery, and now my eyelids were so heavy, I couldn’t keep them up.

For the next few weeks I had worked tirelessly on the paper. My research hasn’t stopped at that very book, I found more and more on the topic, sometimes surprised at the connections. It wasn’t that much for the class anymore, I started focusing more on the modern issues than the contrast. With hours of hard work, I was soon finished.

About three days went by in total idleness. I was sleeping all the time away from school, thank god I had no major homework; sometimes even managed to sleep in class. Shortly, my graded paper was returned. I wasn’t surprised at the perfect mark I got. What was unexpected, however, was the comment near the grade “Please come see me afterschool.” Puzzled as I was at what my teacher wanted from me, I had to put it away from my mind for a while. The day went on.

The teacher, as it turned out, had a lot to say to me. As I came in, she invited me to sit. I obeyed, as she started walking around the room, telling me about the reason for me being summoned. And that reason was, that she had taken quite an interest in my work. It showed a lot of attention and careful analysis, she said. I had quietly listened to the praise directed at me, when she suddenly stopped and cried: “Will you please continue working on the topic, and maybe give a speech about it at the next Thursday assembly?” I was startled, and asked the teacher to repeat what she just said. No, I had not misheard. She truly wished me to give a speech. I agreed.

Right before school, on the day when I had to present my first speech, I went to Starbucks. Caused by the lack of sleep the previous night, my brain wasn’t working as well as it needed to. Instead of ordering one of the coffee options, however, I decided on hot chocolate and a doughnut: sugar ought to pump up my blood.

The assembly went surprisingly well. Despite my lack of experience, I somehow even managed to make everybody listen to me. Every word was clear. My message was heard. I departed with the words “May you be as kind to God’s other creations as He had been to you.”

“Do you believe in lucky charms? I don’t, really, however I have this funky ritual. Every time I have to deliver a speech, I go to Starbucks. If I forget – my speech is a failure. If I remember – it's a success.”

I just hope that my magic chocolate is going to help me tonight. Otherwise it will be the biggest disaster I have ever seen so far. I cannot fail, not today. Not after all that I’ve been through.

Let’s not dwell on the details. Some other teachers came up to me, impressed. I was urged to start some kind of a raising awareness club, and having nothing else to spend my time on, I agreed. The club was under my guidance for five months, during which we gave speeches at local theaters and squares, until we’ve finally managed to arrange a meeting with the mayor.

It was a big step, a huge one for a bunch of kids. We spent hours and hours working on our talk, perfecting it, changing it, and starting it all over again countless times. It never seemed good enough. Finally, we gave up and settled on a terrible version because of the lack of time.

I was the only one to speak, as usual, on behalf of us all, and as I was standing there, all alone, in front of all the city officials, there was nothing more I wanted in the world, than to get away from there. All the talks I gave before, all the experience I had – it all just vanished away as I was about to deliver that dreadful speech. Finally, the mayor signaled me to begin.

“I am Helen, the leader of the St. Paul High School World Awareness club, and I came here today, to represent all those kids, who care about our planet and our future…” I stopped. The speech was terrible, and it clearly wouldn’t impress any of the people standing before me even the slightest bit. I took a deep breath, probably the deepest one I’ve ever took, and just start blurting things out.

“It is so usual for all of us to hear such words as “global warming”, “crisis”, “poverty”, “overpopulation”, “slavery”, and etc., that it is hard to imagine any other way of things. All of us, almost from the time we first go to school, are faced with those problems, and 100% of us, humans, are affected by them.

I hear adults say that it’s impossible for us to do anything, that we still have time, that someone else will come and do it for us. Even more often they say that it’s somebody else’s fault, they don’t care, and don’t have anything to do with it. If everything is good in their life, they shouldn’t care about those who weren’t as fortunate.

What they don’t realize though, is the fact that all of us are in this, together. No one can get away. If you exist, you are a part of the problem. We all live on the same planet, and we are all faced with the same problems,” as I spoke, my voice echoed from the walls of the hall. Everybody else was sitting in total silence. I could see that I grabbed their attention. They had no idea how hard it was to just blurt out things you have just made up on the most important meeting of your life.

“Life has been given us by God as a gift. He had created for us this planet: beautiful, and containing all that we will ever need. How do we thank Him, however? Why instead of praising Him, we curse Him by destroying the gifts He had so generously offered us,” I was red in the face, my voice got louder, blood was pounding in my veins, I got quicker, I took a step towards my listeners as I continued.

The words were flowing, without even thinking anymore. I was not myself, no; I dissolved in the idea, as I grew more and more passionate. I didn’t stop even when I was out of breath, even when my time ran out, and they didn’t stop me either. I started walking around, moving my hands, almost screaming at some ideas, with which I was one.

I was passionate, I was inspired, for some reason, for the first time, I really felt alive. The rush of adrenaline made everything so clear, bright, and real, and I am sure my eyes were glowing with delight as I conveyed to the officials what I had really thought. The shade of boredom disappeared, and the emptiness inside was filled in. Finally, I stopped.

All was quiet. Then, the mayor started clapping. All the people around him followed. The ovation grew stronger, as I bowed again and again, thanking them with tears on my eyes.

I look at my watch. It is time to go, only half an hour left. I walk out and hesitate at the bus stop, but decide to walk again. I still haven’t thought everything through.  So I just enjoy the afternoon, and stare at people, caught up in my thoughts, my memories. How much meaning each little fragment has now, when everything is in a picture? Only one puzzle piece is left, and that one shall be put there at the end of the day.

That day my life really changed. Not only because of the fact that the mayor had liked the talk and we now gave speeches first at national level, and when we raised money even all around the world. No, there was a far more important reason. I was rejuvenated, and I was transformed, my thoughts, my actions, my emotions, and my attitude – all were different. I had now a passion, a reason to drive me forward. My family and friends were impressed, not disappointed, my teachers praised me, and all the people from the club blessed the fact that I thought of something better than the terrible final draft of that speech. 

I was really a new person, a fresh, new, better version of my old self, who started enjoying life. Some other reason for living appeared, and my club was always everywhere: collecting donations, giving speeches, researching, meeting with important people, rallying, donating money to other organizations, thinking of small things we could do. From a small school club it became a national organization – FYF (Filipino Youth for the Future). Sometimes I didn’t have to give speeches - we often separated and split up while traveling. Also, other branches appeared, such as in Cebu, or Baguio, or in Mindanao.

As our influence grew, so did our confidence; also so did the pressure. The job got harder and harder: the audience sometimes kicked us out in the middle of an assembly. We were desperate to be heard; everywhere we went, even as we started travelling to such distant regions as Africa, or Europe, or the Americas. In all places, people were the same. Even though the language was different, and sometimes we had to use a translator, the message never changed. We begged for a change – for someone to take charge and save the planet.

More moving, however, was the fact that people started doing something. People started new organizations, or joined already existing ones, and everybody was making small changes. We were heard: we started appearing on TV, news about us and our impact were on all newspapers.

“Why am I here? Good question. You must be wondering why a random teenager is up on the stage talking about global issues instead of partying in a club somewhere. I have an answer for you. I am here, because only here, on stage, while giving a speech – I feel alive. I am here, because this is one of the things I care about the most. I was fortunate enough to realize how important in is to help out everybody and everything in this world, and there is no pleasure bigger than that of giving something. This is the air of change I’m breathing. I am not going to give it up.”

I am here again. Entering the gates, walking on the pathway, to the door, that very door. People start gathering, and I see cars pulling up. Some of those who pass by greet me, others acknowledge me by nodding, some just ignore. I assume that not all of them know me, or at least not my face. I am pretty sure that all of them got informed of my arrival.

Then, one day, a dream came true. A letter arrived, and as we saw the envelope, we all thought it was a joke.  There was a blue emblem: the map of the world seen from the North Pole, with two crossed branches from an olive tree around it, and above it was written “The United Nations”. As I took the letter in my hands, we all sat down in awe, waiting for me to read it out.

 I was invited to speak on our behalf in the official UN headquarters in New York. I was to inform them immediately of my decision by email, and my speech was to be given in a month, on an official meeting with everyone in there. As I got to the school computer and started typing my reply, my hands were shaking so badly that it took me about ten minutes to write a short email.

It wasn’t a joke. In a couple of weeks, I was sent an airplane ticket. I was to arrive at NY on the evening of the day before my speech. As I held the actual proof in my hands, all of us started to realize what this really means. God knows, what meeting can be more important? This was definitely a one-time opportunity and all of us were scared even at the thought of all doors that can open before us after it.

It took us a month to write that speech for me. I don’t remember the details; it’s just a huge blob in my memory. All we did for the whole month was -writing, writing, writing, talking, screaming, fighting, freaking out, and more writing. None of us even wanted to look at that paper anymore when we finished; I still had to memorize it though. We were satisfied with the final draft, there’s no doubt about that.

In the airport, almost everyone I knew came to wish me good luck. Everybody hugged me; there were kisses, pretty words, tears, laughter, and blessings. I was sobbing while waiting for the plane. The future was scary: what is I was to fail? However, as I was falling asleep, I smiled at the thought of succeeding.

I take a deep breath. Open my eyes. Pull the doorknob. And enter.

“You fail if you stop trying.”

- Firescales