On a random day of our lives, something quietly witnesses the weight we carry—the thoughts that consume us, the worries tied to our unwritten horizon, the memories we find ourselves reminiscing about while staring at the golden evening sky as it fades, and the yearning for something that will not come back, as we find ourselves completely spaced out.
It is something that sits quietly in the corner, willingly sharing itself to carry the weight of the world inside us that we keep in disguise, holding more than just our weight—a chair.
Tulad ng mga imbakan ng telepono, napupuno rin pala ang utak nating mga tao—and somehow, we unload pieces of ourselves in silence—sitting, thinking, questioning—sharing the weight with a chair as if it were someone offering a shoulder to rest on, and we trust it enough to do so. There are moments when we simply sit and wonder: What is life after graduation? Is there something waiting for me in the future? Is there a lifetime where I get to live with someone I see myself growing old with? Am I still on the right path?
There are many chairs in different places that have helped carry the weight of every individual.
Chairs in hospitals that have heard more genuine prayers than a church ever could. Chairs that have quietly absorbed the weight of every tear that falls without sound. Chairs in study spaces where students spend long nights bent over work—balancing personal life with academic demands under flickering fatigue. Chairs that offer comfort to bodies too tired to remain standing, surrendering for a moment of rest. Chairs in waiting areas that hold patience like something fragile yet endless. Chairs that serve those who serve—mga taong pinagsisilbihan ang salapi, para sa pamilya at para matustusan ang mga pangangailangan. Chairs that have witnessed the silent storm of grieving families, where words are no longer enough. Sometimes, chairs that forget they are chairs at all—becoming beds within classroom walls, catching sleep between lessons and exhaustion.
And there are chairs that do more than carry weight.
Chairs that raise some people above others—the power-hungry who remain seated in comfort, letting the chair lift them while the country below continues to ask for a lift.
“No man is an island,” wrote John Donne. In our daily struggles, in survival, and in moments of loneliness, there is always someone or something with us—even if it is not a person—something as simple as a chair.
A chair may be plastic or wood, worn or new—but it holds more than a body. It carries a world heavier than the universe—filled with happiness, regret, yearning, grief, love, joy, hope, anger, nostalgia, fear, and so much that is too heavy to be spoken—because sometimes, expressing what is truly heavy feels like burning our own tongue.
So sit, and for a moment, let something else carry the weight.
Written by Emerson Dagadas
Emerson Dagadas is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
