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“It wouldn't kill me, right?” A lingering question I ask myself during quiet nights when the future feels like within arm's reach. In long, deep conversations about future careers and upcoming college applications, one phrase is always voiced among experienced adults who carry regret and grief deep within their bones: “Pumili ka ng practical course sa college, ‘di ka naman kayang buhayin ng passion mo.” Writing and studies of human society — social science and journalism, to be specific — captured my soul way before I knew what dreams and goals really meant. From converting my thoughts and sentiments into words, to observing complex interactions within human society, that's what makes my heart soar. It's what makes me alive and what makes me live for. Creativity lives within me, and I don't think I can live without pushing it to its limits. Passion — what I call it. But there's one thing: I live humbly. Not too poor, not too rich, and certainly not wealthy enough to always get what I wanted. My mother often tells me to pursue a job that will allow me to live comfortably, not one that'll drag me down overtime. This is a conversation we'd had long before I entered senior high school. “Pursue a practical strand” she says, but what if that's not something I live for? It brewed something in me. I tried reasoning with her, telling her that I can't live without making my passion into a profession but she insisted that I'll regret it later on. “Ano mas gusto mo? Mabuhay na komportable o gawin ang gusto mo pero konti lang kinikita mo?” Two simple choices, yet hard to pick from. Although being able to live on my own without any financial strain has been my top priority, pursuing a career out of my passion has been my ambition, but I realized those two don't come together like peas in a pod, it's sacrificing one thing for another. That's what killed me the most. I had a conversation with my cousin, who was brave enough to pursue his passion over practicality once and took the same college program I yearned to take. A top performer in a prestigious private university in Manila. He told me that he regretted choosing a program that employers weren't seeking and wished he listened to his parents instead. His friends, who chose more practical courses, were on their way to making six figures, whilst he was stuck with a job that doesn't pay well. He let his desire take the wheel before reality crossed his mind. My mother gave me a knowing look, I looked away in denial. I watch as other people choose and study their desired college programs — programs I also longed to take. They seem happy, able to live out their dreams and make it into their own careers. I compared my situation to their own and concluded one thing: They have money, strong pedigrees, and powerful connections, whilst I have to stand on my own two feet and have to build those connections and lineages myself. And that’s what dawned on me, ordinary people like me don't have the privilege to choose whatever college program we wanted — we have to choose a pragmatic decision, even when not desired — even if it kills us. Passion in arts and literature don't have a place in the real world — at least not in the journey of building a career. We have to make sacrifices, even if creativity and artistry shines brightly within us, waiting and begging to be used. Living with financial debt and mounting bills will drain me, but not being able to pursue what my heart and soul has been destined for will kill me. I've come to terms that practicality will always come first before passion. Maybe passion won't even be an option in the first place. Maybe it will become a little side hobby when corporate life gets tough, and maybe that's all it will be. Maybe in another chance in life, I was actually given the luxury to pursue a college program and a career aligned with the arts, not being able to worry about its little to no work opportunities or low pay — because I had connections waiting in line for me and a well-known background that'll get me in to jobs before interviews even happened. What a silly imagination, yet it's someone's reality right now. “It wouldn't kill me” I whispered on a cold night, but it did — slowly and delicately.