Becoming an architect isn’t easy. It demands great skill to master mathematics, illustrate ideas, and practice more patience than most people expect. Instead of pursuing my first choice, civil engineering, I somehow found myself standing at the foot of an architecture program. There was no going back; I was already in front of a drafting table, wondering what obstacles I’d have to overcome to reach this dream of designing buildings and structures. But as I held my pencil, one realization hit me hard: I can’t draw. 

My background in drawing was never the strongest. Even in high school, my drawings were limited to stick figures, shaky mountains, and birds shaped like the letter V. It became clear early on that my journey in drawing would begin at zero. Pulling all-nighters became a canon event for every plate activity thrown my way. 

The first challenge was mastering the art of shading—understanding how shapes react to light and learning to control pressure with every stroke. With a bit of control and patience, you’re supposed to get that sphere just right. In my head, the sphere should have looked perfect; on paper, it looked like a solid ball with a hole. Then came the handwriting exercises, which, of course, I was really horrible at. In this school, every line, every mark, and every smudge was subject to the professors’ eagle-eyed scrutiny. 

With every plate returning with a mark lower than 60, I knew I was falling behind. My blockmates’ works set a standard that felt unreachable. Drawing isn’t the only skill you need in architecture—you also need creativity to illustrate your visions on a blank sheet of paper. In drafting design, that’s where mathematics and creativity dance as one. Fortunately, drafting becomes manageable once you’ve developed the right rhythm and pressure control with the pen. 

Months into studying architecture, burnout began creeping in. The passion I once had for the course was shattered from constantly failing plates and the unrealistic standards I set for myself by comparing my progress to others. Doubts poisoned my mind into thinking that I was too late to learn how to express my ideas properly, or that I’ll never be as good as everyone else.

It’s not failure that kills a dream—it’s looking at yourself and believing that you’ll never be as good as the people around you.

And once your mind accepts the thought, your passion burns out quietly, leaving behind the regret of how much effort you put in trying to keep up.

Money and time were wasted ever since I decided to shift to another course. The equipment and tools used in architecture aren’t cheap. My family and friends weren’t happy with the news, and it wasn’t easy telling them why I shifted. There will always be the regret that I could’ve pushed myself harder, that technical skills aren’t everything. But despite the heartbreak, I’m glad I’m now in an environment where I believe I’ll succeed. 

If someone were to ask me, “Do you need to be good at drawing to study architecture?” I would simply say no. As long as you put your heart into it, no words or doubts can extinguish the passion for what you pursue. I always told myself that I was never creative enough. Yet today, I stand as the Creative Coordinator of this publication, The HERALDO FILIPINO. It was never my drawing skills that held me back; it was the negative thoughts I kept feeding myself all along. 

If there’s anything I learned from these supposed “failures,” it’s that—it’s never wrong to explore new paths. What matters the most is that you continue believing in the potential you carry, even when things get tough.

Originally published in Heraldo Filipino Volume 40, Issue 1.