College Mysteries

I am a ghost of this old grim-looking four-story building who has seen the struggles of this institution through times. I have witnessed many students as they pour their efforts and faith to learn. I have heard the cries of joy whenever they win the many contests they competed in; the proud announcements of achieving national and international standards; and the silent but piercing accusations blamed on anyone but themselves.

I am the ghost lurking in the hallway of the ground floor, watching students as they go in and out of the college building. I watch as a group of students crowd the way while talking about the long exam they took minutes ago; checking each other’s right and wrong answers. Another student climbs the stairs while mumbling words as if casting a spell from the notebook he is holding. There is another one who enters the building through the exit just to be sent out again by the guard. There are also the professors whom the students never bothered to greet as if they were other ghosts from the other realm.

I am the ghost who sits behind you while you stare out of the window, oblivious of the lesson being taught, your mind drifting to the far corner of the world; or when you listen attentively in class, catching wisdom thrown, weighing every ideas, opinions, and emotion that pulls you towards enjoying the life you are required to fulfill. I am the ghost who stands at one corner of the room, watching while you encourage the young minds to welcome the knowledge offered by the noble dead; to learn and grow into productive members of society.

I am the ghost you hear in the ladies’ CR while you gossip about the lives of other and put yourself above them; I am the ghost who stand behind you in your picture; I am the ghost who brushes your skin in the library while you copy everything in the book word for word; I am the ghost talked about every night when the electricity is suddenly out. I am everywhere, yet unseen.

If you see me bloody and pleading, would you flee in fright like when you ran cowardly from your dilemmas in the college, forgetting to assert your rights? Or would you just ignore everything, deny everything, or accept everything you hear, see, or feel without a second thought?

What killed me, they wonder.

The pretentious quality of service during accreditations stabbed me with shame. The corruption in the college among the administration, the faculty, and the students gagged me with an acidic handkerchief. The unnecessary contributions to pay drowned me in make-believe needs. The unfair grades given by the ‘ghost’ professors kicked me hard in the face. The ideal leadership of the student politicians dragged me by the feet in circles. My selfish classmates left me isolated. The inconsiderate demand and the pressure of it all strangled me. What quality education the institution promised and what promising college life I looked towards in the past both hanged me upside-down in the middle of a cliff.

I was already dead before I saw the real world they kept telling me about. It’s not outside of the institution. It is inside. Outside is a dream.

I am the ghost of your conscience, emotions, and thoughts. I am the ghost of dead dreams, rights, opportunities, faith, and hope. I am the ghost of the locked-away principles, denied of battle and left to rot. I died noble but forgotten. I died silently from the torture college life brings and I will forever remain a mystery until someone bravely takes notice of me in the corner of the room.