Love should not always be measured by how much one can endure. Waking up early not to prepare for yourself, but to get the family ready for the day. Staying up late not for your own pending tasks, but to finish the assignments of younger siblings. Quietly setting aside your own dreams so others may reach theirs.
“Pag graduate mo, ikaw na ang magpa-aral sa mga kapatid mo” or “Wag ka muna mag-aasawa, tapusin mo muna mga kapatid mo.” These words, spoken with hope and trust, become markers of devotion — but they are also weights on young shoulders. They are often called simple acts of love, yet when sacrifice becomes routine and obligation never ends, one is left to ask: is this still love, or an excruciating journey carried by young shoulders for far too long?
“Paano naman ang mga pangarap ko?” “Bakit ako?” However heavy it may be, guilt often becomes the only thing we can hold onto, as the fear of taking time for ourselves—or living our own phase of life—feels selfish and inconsiderate. “Kaya ka nga pinapag-aral para makatulong ka sa amin na pag-aralin mga kapatid mo” always hits hard whenever we wonder if pursuing our personal dreams is possible. It feels as though we have betrayed their trust simply by wanting to study for ourselves. And when we pause from the constant pressure of academics, deadlines, and responsibilities, we hear: “Ang daming bata sa mundo na gusto mag-aral tapos ikaw ay ganyan ang gagawin.”
Even when the weight of family and societal expectations feels overwhelming, it is intertwined with care. To love is to carry, to protect, to ensure others can thrive — sometimes at the cost of one’s own comfort. Recognizing this allows a quiet acknowledgment: these burdens are not proof of weakness, nor are they yours alone to bear. They are, in their own way, reflections of the love that surrounds you and the love you are learning to carry.
Perhaps love does ask us to carry weight — but it should not demand that we disappear under it. Young shoulders were never meant to bear lifelong burdens alone.
Love, at its most honest, must also allow room for rest, for choice, for dreams that belong to the self. To ask “Paano naman ako?” is not an act of betrayal; it is an act of survival. In learning to name the weight, to pause without guilt, and to imagine a future that includes both care for others and care for oneself, we begin to redefine love — not as endless endurance, but as something that sustains rather than exhausts.