I pick up any spare change I get.

A peso from a tricycle fare, coins left from a cheap lunch, or the difference when I skip snacks altogether—these little amounts matter. With a daily allowance of P100 to P150 and a round-trip fare of P50 to P70, I haven’t left much. But I stretch it, because I have to.

To most people, spare change is forgettable. It means the difference between printing a paper on time and borrowing money. It means being able to contribute to a class project or skipping a meal. It means having a little control on a day when most things feel like a tightrope walk.

Being a campus journalist comes with pride—and pressure. Events need coverage, deadlines don’t wait, and equipment costs quietly pile up. Press shirts, camera maintenance, data for uploads—they all come from my pocket. I lug around my six-year-old laptop every day. Keys not working, battered edges, its hinges on the verge of giving up. On days it gives up, I borrow laptops from family friends—grateful, but always racing against borrowed time.

As a student leader, I attend meetings, organize events, and speak for my fellow students. But leadership isn’t free either. I quietly chip in for fees, materials, or emergency print jobs—because I don’t want to be the reason something falls through.

As an honor student, I push myself to maintain my grades despite everything. Our recent research project cost over P70,000. Each member contributed P500 per week. For me, that meant handing over nearly half my weekly allowance, leaving almost nothing for basic needs. But I managed through small savings, bigger sacrifices, and the hope that it would all be worth it.

Sometimes, on late jeep rides home, I feel the weight of it all—my bag heavier than usual, my stomach surviving on that one meal mama packed for me, my mind racing with tomorrow’s deadlines. But even in those tired moments, I remember: this isn’t just about surviving today. It’s about building a future, coin by coin, choice by choice.

This scholarship would ease the load I carry—not just financially, but mentally. It would mean more than just extra funds. It would mean more time to focus on what I do best, and what I aim to give back. I don’t take help lightly; I turn it into effort, output, and impact.

I try to pick up any spare change I get—not because it’s a habit, but because it’s a way of life. And over time, I’ve learned that what seems small can actually carry great weight. My life isn’t built on big things all at once—but on the consistent value of every little thing I refuse to take for granted.

Because in my world, there’s no such thing as “just spare change.”