Pretty Face

When I was a kid, people liked me a lot. They often tell me, "Oh you should join Binibini." or "You should be a Stewardess." 

Then my Mom urged me to join pageants. I sang on stage and wore dresses and tiaras.

For some bizzare reason, I was uncomfortable being admired for my hair or my clothes or my face. Growing up I think I've made adolescent choices that rebelled against people's idea of me. I wore black and hid my face. I pulled myself away from the spotlight. 

I don't want to be admired. 

I want to be respected,

adored, 

and maybe even slightly feared.

I want to be IMPORTANT.

Important enough to score a ticket 

to Noah's Ark.