to become a breadwinner
During the days when my teachers in grade school tell the class that they are a breadwinner of their family— I always aspire to be one of them. That if I have the chance, I will ask them what the steps are and not rely to what I learned because I somehow messed up.
To become one, you must know how to endure; learning how to lend your hands and hold what you cannot handle. While you have your own battles, you must give space to handle what’s theirs. Not because you are capable enough, but because you are the chosen one to fill the lapses.
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You need to be tough like a two-heart being to avoid overloading. Strong enough to stop the rivers in the pool of your eyes — showing no signs of weakness, to prove that you are worthy of that spot. A heart alone won’t beat from being too heavy.
A ‘no’ will be interpreted as three-word wrath for them. A refusal, rebellion, and abandonment. Saying no is a sign of leaving the unwanted responsibility that you swore to fulfill — a disgrace and cowardice.
It’s like you are required to face four warfare; from yourself, the society, to those who need the bread, and to your future version that will wait for you to choose yourself finally. An undending fight in the dark while showing up during the daylight.
But if I ask my them if I got the steps right, they might agree — that the full concept of being the breadwinner is part of losing multiple times to win that stupid bread; those weights that was never asked in the first place. Because no one is as brave as you to walk that path — it is not winning the bread over, but finding the rarest recipe for them to live.
And if all of these are the stake to win that tittle, I am wholeheartedly want to lose — not because it’s I am too weak or to stupid to find my way, but because it is unfair to fight a war that I did not create to begin with. Can we just bake it together so I won’t burn?
