Rio was a guy who lived in a small town on the outskirts of a bustling city. He had always been a shy and introverted child, struggling to make friends and fit in with his peers. Despite his best efforts, he was often the target of bullying and ridicule, which left him feeling isolated and alone.
As Rio woke up to the sound of rain tapping against his window, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that he had to go to school, where he would be faced with the same cycle of torment and loneliness that he had grown accustomed to. He felt like he was trapped in a never-ending cycle that he couldn't escape from.
Despite his fear and apprehension, Rio knew that he couldn't give up. He had a dream of one day being able to break free from the constraints of his small town and explore the world beyond. He knew that the only way to make that dream a reality was to push through the challenges and obstacles that lay ahead of him.
With a heavy heart, Rio got out of bed and got ready for school. As he stepped outside, he was greeted by the fresh scent of rain and a sense of calm that he had never felt before. He realized that the rain was a symbol of new beginnings and a chance to start over.
However, like a lone boat struggling against a rough current, Rio navigates the bleak streets of Koronadal city, his only means of transportation a tricycle that takes him to the gates of Green Valley College Foundation.
The journey, though short in distance, feels like a never-ending trek through treacherous waters. Each ride leaves him feeling like a barren tree stripped of its leaves, drained of energy and hope.
And when he has no money to spare, the ride becomes a bitter reminder of his poverty, a gaping hole in his heart that no amount of pedaling can fill.
The road to his dreams is littered with obstacles, and Rio's only choice is to keep pushing forward, even when the weight of his struggles threatens to sink him.
As Rio arrived at the school gate, he felt a lump forming in his throat as he watched the other students being accompanied by their parents. He tried to blend in with the crowd, but he couldn't help feeling like a sore thumb, standing out and alone.
He watched as a parent fixed his son's uniform and ruffled his hair, and a pang of jealousy shot through him like a bolt of lightning. He yearned for that warmth and attention, but all he had were memories frozen in time, captured in a picture-perfect portrait of their family that was once complete—in the past.
The coldness of the picture only served as a reminder of what he had lost and what he could never have again. The ache in his heart grew deeper, and he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever experience that kind of love and affection again.
As Rio climbed the stairs to the third floor, he felt alone, like a solitary tree standing in a barren landscape. He followed behind students with genuine smiles that brightened the day, yet Rio himself felt stripped of his own happiness, abandoned by the wind.
The sound of joyous laughter did not bring warmth to Rio's heart, but instead, it cut through him like a sharp, icy knife. It reminded him of the one thing he yearned for but lacked - a loving family to call his own.
As he ascended to the third floor, he felt a heavy weight in his chest. With every step, the weight grew heavier, crushing his spirit and extinguishing any flicker of hope. He stumbled into the comfort room, hoping to find solace in the sanctuary of isolation. Yet, his solitude offered no refuge from the relentless ache of reality that gnawed at his soul.
He stood there, staring into the abyss of his own despair, he heard the distant murmur of laughter and joy. A group of his peers had gathered nearby, their animated chatter echoing throughout the corridor. He longed to join them, to share in their mirth and camaraderie, but he knew it was a futile desire.
For he was a prisoner of his own past, a product of a broken family that left him with nothing but shattered dreams and bitter memories. As his classmates shared stories of their happiest moments with their loved ones, he felt a pang of envy and sorrow. What story could he tell? None that would rival the warmth and love that his classmates had experienced.
And so, he remained in the comfort room, alone with his thoughts and his pain, as the world outside continued to spin without him. With a heavy heart, he let out a deep and mournful sigh, as he slowly emerged from the solace of the comfort room. His steps were slow and deliberate, as if each movement required immense effort and willpower. He made his way to the classroom and slumped into his seat, his eyes cast down, staring blankly at the floor.
His classmates looked at him with curious eyes, sensing the weight of his sadness and the depth of his despair. He knew that he wasn't just a victim of a broken family, but rather, a prisoner of his own hopelessness, trapped in a world where the future held no promise and the present offered no solace.
The weight of his pain was almost too much to bear, as he struggled to find a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that enveloped him. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of sadness and sorrow, with no rescue in sight.
And so, he sat there silently, lost in his own thoughts and fears, as the world around him continued to turn, oblivious to the deep and profound sadness that consumed him.
Rio closed his weary eyes and drifted off into a fitful slumber. Waiting for his instructor's arrival, he promised himself a brief respite from the endless waiting and allowed himself to succumb to the tempting embrace of sleep.
His restless night had left him drained. The world around him faded away as he drifted deeper into a troubled sleep, alone with his weariness and the knowledge that tomorrow would be no different.
As Rio drifted in and out of sleep, his classmates gathered around him like vultures, eager to inflict their cruelty upon him. In his disoriented state, he barely had time to register the notebook that was hurled at him before he was set upon by the others.
The jeers and taunts cut deep, each word like a knife twisting in his already wounded heart. He tried to stand up for himself, but it was like fighting an endless battle, with every attempt met with even more vicious attacks.
"Hodoo."
His heart sank as he tried to comprehend the viciousness of their words. He stuttered, barely able to get the question out. "W-why?"
However, the answer was like a dagger to his already fragile sense of self.
"You don't even have any parents," they sneered. "No wonder you're such a loser."
He tried to protest, to explain that his circumstances were beyond his control, but they only laughed in response.
They sneered at him again and threw a crumpled piece of paper at his face, as if he was nothing more than a worthless insect. They called him a 'Mango seller' with disdain that it cut him to the core.
It was true that he sold mangoes to sustain his needs as a struggling student, but it was not something he took pride in. It was a humble occupation that he had to take on to survive. And yet, these strangers, who knew nothing of his struggles and hardships, seemed to think it was something to be ridiculed and scorned.
The weight of their insults felt crushing, as if he was being judged for simply trying to make a living. The world seemed so cruel and unjust in that moment, and he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sadness and despair.
His heart ached with the knowledge that no matter what he did, or how hard he tried, he would never be good enough in their eyes. For him, the world was a cold and unforgiving place, where even the smallest differences could be used as a weapon to wound and humiliate.
He went to Ace center point mall. And as he stood there, gazing out at the busy street where life scuttled by and expensive cars snuck in between the gaps. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnect as he took in the surrounding lofty structures, towering above him like giants.
They were so different from the humble abode he called home, so far removed from his everyday existence that they seemed utterly foreign to him.
Living in a city like this, where the gap between the haves and have-nots was so pronounced, had left him hamstrung. He was constantly reminded of his place in the world, of how different his life was from those who lived in the lofty buildings. The city made no concessions for those in his situation, no allowances for those who struggled to make ends meet.
As he stood there, watching the world go by, he couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over him. It seemed like no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he tried, he would always be held back by the circumstances of his birth.
He ambled along the street until he arrived at their standby Mango store. Pausing to catch his breath, he looked around at his surroundings, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of the place. It was where he often sells mango.
He unscrewed the lid of his mineral water and took a sip, his mind was filled with a tumultuous jumble of thoughts. He gazed up at the tree branches above and felt a fleeting sense of serenity, knowing that such a moment of calm would be all too brief.
"How much is the mango, Kuya, with spicy sauce?"
Rio was jolted out of his thoughts, which only added a precise amount of vinegar to the wound in his heart, intensifying its bitterness. It was a mixture of the sour taste of life and the pain of existing, struggling to accept the grim reality of life. He turned to the young boy who was looking straight at him and smiling.
"Ah, the mango costs five pesos," said Rio.
"I'll take twenty pesos' worth, please. And could you separate the sauce? Thank you," the child replied.
As the he handed over the mangoes to the child, a wide smile lit up his face. He took the twenty peso bill as payment, grateful for the business.