the essay that got me accepted in Ateneo.

My Ateneo acceptance letter!

Every day, I move between what I call my house and my home. At first glance, this might sound like a privilege, but for me, it has always been a balancing act between two very different worlds. Carrying my backpack, almost oscillating between these two spaces, I often feel like I live two lives simultaneously. The house is where I am rooted by memory and family; the home is where I find peace and clarity. Over time, this daily back-and-forth has taught me more than just how to adapt; it has shown me how deeply our environment molds the kind of person we become.

The house is filled with history and sentiment. It is where I first learned how to use an eyelash curler in first grade, cried when I broke my favorite toy, and practiced “French’s Child Song” on an antique piano that had been in the family for years. Every inch of the house reminded me of the experiences that shaped me. Growing up, however, came with difficulties that made it nearly impossible to concentrate on academics. The sound of the neighbor’s dogs barking as I wake up in the morning, motorcycles from delinquent teenagers roaring at midday, and late-night karaoke sessions that spanned until dawn filled the area. Even though I cherished the house as a museum of my childhood memories, the chaos overwhelmed me and made studying seem almost impossible.

The home, however, provided a place of calm and stillness, almost as if time stopped whenever I was there. It did not hold the same sentimental value, but its quiet became a sanctuary. There, I could cook Buldak noodles while watching another Rom-Com K-Drama without interruption, or listen to the chirping of songbirds as I clacked on my keyboard, reviewing for my following math quiz. These small, yet peaceful routines in my home shaped a conducive environment where I could focus, rest, and grow.

Through this, I’ve learned that privilege is about the surroundings that enable us to grow rather than just material wealth. Living in two drastically different areas fueled my passion to study how the environment affects our daily lives in ways that dictate the very future of every individual.

This same awareness also fueled my passion for social work. While I was the President of my UNESCO club in my alma mater, one of our most memorable projects was the outreach we organized in a typhoon-struck community in Imus. Despite their houses being almost destroyed by Typhoon Egay, I witnessed firsthand the true meaning of Filipino resilience, where even a simple Jollibee party and donated clothes felt like luxuries. More than disaster recovery, they deserved a home where their dreams were made possible. The outreach deepened my resolve to help create environments where peace and opportunity can be permanent parts of their lives.

From the resilience built from the house to the peace I found in the home, these two spaces have defined who I am. Together, they have given me purpose, the desire to bridge those worlds and, one day, help others find in their environment the same sense of peace and possibility that I found in mine.