I remember.

Tell me that it is wrong to remember. Tell me that the longings of my heart is not enough that I am where I am right now. Tell me that if Journalism is my first love, then why am I not on the its very field.


To tell you the truth? I don't know. All I know is that deep within me is a deep desire to write. To make a difference through my words. To tell the world stories that they need to hear, to make every word count, ever story matter.


And where I am right now? Here. Writing several thousands of words a day without a purpose. Hitting the keyboard without a thought, staring into nothingness and shutting off my mind.


Where I want to be? On the field. Taking notes, talking to people. Feeling my heart race because of excitement and fear. That adrenaline rush to beat the deadline, to maximize every hour and every second and every word to tell a story that is of great importance.


November 23, 2009. Two years ago, almost. 33 journalists have died. (If I remember it right.) Several civilians. In one single blow.


Two years now and where are we. Where am I.

Back then, I was a junior Journalism student. I felt the chills and the horror when I heard the news. I felt my heart sank and the rage inside grow as the number of dead people, dead journalists rise after every moment. I remember writing a paper about it. I remember feeling the heavy atmosphere on our classroom, on our professor who have a colleague who died in that mass murder, I remember profile pictures over Facebook marked with the bloody "Ampatuan Massacre. We will not forget."


Two years later and we still remember.


Two years later and even if I am not yet on the field of Journalism, I still remember.
And I still feel that familiar heart sinking and soul crushing emotion.
The delay (or even the inexistence) of justice just makes everything more depressing.


To hold a pen is to be at war. -Voltaire


And with the second year of the Ampatuan Massacre, I say a short prayer to all the media men and the civilians who died. I say a short prayer for media in general all over the world. And a prayer for the world.


Now, I am left to question myself.
Why am I here? What am I doing here?
Writing on this blog would not change anything. Writing for the world on the other hand might.
Might.


I long to push the pen. Please.Just wait. I shall be back.