Sunday, December 6, 2015

Nanaginip ako kagabi. Kasama raw ulit kita. Pinili mo ulit ako kesa sa kanya.

Sa isang dula, ako yung bida. Ikaw naman sa isa pa. Magkaibang kwento na yung nagpapatakbo sa oras natin, pero iisang entablado. 

Dumating ka. Hindi ko inaasahn yun, pero hinila mo yung kamay ko, at sabi mo, 'Ikaw, ikaw na lang si Dorothy.' Kahit litong lito ako, paulit ulitkong tinatanong sayo, 'Ako? Hindi pwede. Magagalit yung bago mo,' tumayo pa rin ako, sumunod kung saan gusto mo kong ibalik sa mundo mo. Wala kang pakealam sa kanya, parang dati lang. Sa panaginip ko, sa akin ulit umikot yung mundo mo.

Nagising ako, mga bandang alas singko. Hindi ko alam kung anong dapat kong maramdaman, pero pumikit ako ulit, hinugot sa pinakamalalayong sulok ng ala-ala ko lahat ng mga bagay na alam ko pa tungkol sayo. Alam kong ang hilig hilig mong mag computer, pero kahit minsan, hindi mo inubos yung oras mo dun kapalit ng para sa akin. Mahiyain ka, pero ikaw yung nagpumilit na ipaalam sa iba na iyo ako, na merong tayo. Noon, inis na inis ako sa mga ginagawa mo. Ngayon, yung mga pinakanakakainis yung pinaka-namimiss ko.

Ang tagal na nun. Ang dami nang nabago. Siguro, hindi na ako yung naaalala mo pag pumupunta ka sa Baguio. Ang dami ko nang hindi alam tungkol sayo, at aaminin ko, sa buong panahon na nawala ka sa buhay ko, napakahikli ng naubos ko sa paglimot sayo. Sorry, natakot kasi ako.

Ang dami ko kasing palpak nun eh. Ang daming mali sa buhay ko. Ikaw lang yung tama, pero pakiramdam ko, malapit ka na ring mawala. Kaya ako umayaw ng hindi nagpapaliwang kung ano ba talaga yung dahilan. Ayoko kasing ako yung maiwan... Makasarili, oo, pero yun yung totoo. Natakot ako na yung kaisa-isang tama sa buhay ko, makikita kung gaano kalaking pagkakamali pala yung mahalin ako. Pakiramdam ko kasi, hindi ako worthy. Hindi ko naman alam kung pano ipaliwanag sa paraang maiintindihan mo. Paano mo ba sasabihin sa taong ibinibigay lahat sayo na hindi ka na masaya, pero hindi mo alam kung bakit? Hindi ko gustong hanapin yung sarili ko, kasi kung yun yung dahilan ko, eto ako ngayon, pagkalipas ng maraming taon, hindi ko pa rin alam kung ano talaga yung gusto ko.

Yung kanta ko dati para sayo, ginagamit nang theme song ng isa sa mga pinakasikat na palabas ngayon. Minsan, napapangiti ako. Ang dami na kasing mga bagay na hindi na pwedeng ibalik sa dati. Alam ko naman yun. Pero pag naririnig ko yung kanta, parang nandun ulit ako, buong buo sa palad mo. Hindi ako nagsisisi o nanghihinayang na nagkaganito tayo. Alam ko naman, masaya ka na ngayon.

Sana lang, maging masaya na din ako. 

Monday, November 30, 2015

Consider this my apology for meeting you at a very young age, when  I was vulnerable and you were the quiet comfort I taught myself to crave. How long has it been? Six, seven years? Remember when I had a list of things I wanted, and you tried to make them all come true? I was writing a love story, and its rough draft, I still keep, with all its black ink splotches, torn paper where words were scratched out too hard.

I'm sorry for the way I did not cherish how tightly you held me to keep my pieces from falling apart all over again. I remember all those late nights you drove me home, a block away from my house because my mother didn't approve of you, and how, in our many walks together, we turned sharp corners to avoid your parents' passing car, because they didn't approve of me, either.

 Back then, I thought that was our biggest problem. Not being able to date who you wanted to date was such a big deal, and there were times, I admit, when it seemed like I would've been able to take a break up more than the pressure of always sneaking out, throwing my shoes down the ground, then landing softly on my feet so no one would hear me. One time, I sprained my ankle jumping down to see you.

I still have all the boxes you gave me. One full of candy, the other of small trinkets you collected throughout the days. You built those boxes yourself, you painted them purple, my favorite color at that time, and even now, at an age where I thought I'd at least be with someone (but I'm not), that's still the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

We used to fight about the smallest things, but it was one of those small things that brought us to the end. To be honest with you now, I don't even remember anymore why I wanted space, one you were so eager to give me, when there used to be a time when we both hated saying goodbye, and you promised one day we wouldn't have to, cause we'd be going home to a house of our own. Imagine my surprise when, after one fight too many, I said I was tired, and I guess you were, too. A few months ago, I went back to read our old messages, and for every one of mine, there were at least four coming from you, but now the tables have turned and I'm on the outside, looking in.

I wish I'd met you today under more optimistic circumstances. I wish I was the one waiting for you to come home, the one you'd sent flowers to just because you thought it would make me happy. It would have made me so happy. 

Consider this my apology for taking a part of you that you no longer can give to her; for giving you a part of me that you'll always want to give back, but will not, because you can't go back to our sepia toned past, always asking, always wondering what would have happened if we gave it another try.

This is my apology for leaving, but looking at you now, I have nothing to be sorry about. All your dreams came true, every single one of them. You were wrong about one thing, though. One tiny detail that used to mean the most to you: I'm not the one to have built it all with you.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

I need a new hobby. 

I have reading, and writing, and all these TV shows I need to watch, but I feel like these days have been routine and I don't do well with routines.

I need something new to stir up some excitement in my life. I'm bad at art, I have too short an attention span for crafts and things that take time to finish. I need something challenging that sticks. I need something a lot more than sleeping late reading someone else's thoughts, waking up earlier than usual to meet up with people who won't give me the same courtesy.

I don't know why or how suddenly, I'm putting so much importance on myself, on my happiness. Could it be that I've grown so tired of waiting around for something big enough to hit me, that I'm taking initiative and being the one who wants to hit something, someone?

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

To hell with being liked only when I'm conforming to whatever society deems acceptable, good, and up to their ever changing standards.

I've been shedding off my insecurities one by one, and I like what I see now, I think. When I look in the mirror, I see me, not that version of me I dreaded every morning upon waking - someone who smiles to please everyone else, even though inside, I'm retching. To hell with everyone who only know me when they need something from me - you're as good as dead to me now.

Society, I've been told since I was small - I was either too fat or too thin. My family did not have enough money to buy a basket of fruits and vegetables for my teachers, and so I never really had a chance to be top of the class even when I deserved it. I was never given a fair chance because they were pressuring my family to enter me into a money / popularity contest, and my family actually believed the thing was trivial, superficial at best. I saw, at a very young age, what money could do, and the amount of respect society was willing to give you as soon as they see you rolling in some greens.

I was too opinionated, too hard headed, only because I didn't share some people's beliefs and I was not shy about voicing it out, but as soon as I tried being quiet, I was an outcast, I was someone who didn't know how to deal with my fellow humans.

To hell with you, society, for planting seeds of years of self doubt and insecurities that plagued my childhood and most of my early adult years. I have learned to zip my lips when someone would criticize me with destructive words just so I would not offend them; I don't do that anymore. If I could go back and talk to my seven year old self, I would tell her that no matter how hard she'd try, she'd never be good enough for you because you'd always have something else to look for. When she'd locked herself up to study, study, study, you'd need her to be pretty, too. I'd tell her to look people in the eyes and tell them how their words feel like a knife to her gut, but that in the end, those words say more about them than her. I'd tell her to look for the good in people, but never expect them to give her the same treatment, because people are quick to judge without understanding.

I have lived my life trying to shape myself up to your liking, and that's the biggest mistake I'll ever make. It all ends now, society, and if I had a pedestal and a microphone, this is what I'd tell you: I don't care if I'm not someone you want seeing around, or if I'm someone you'd want your children to be friends with. To hell with you and your unrealistic standards, I was born to break the mold.

Monday, November 9, 2015

On forgiving our misgivings...

Nobody ever thought to stop and tell me that you can miss a person so much, you feel their absence as much as their presence when they're sitting right beside you. Nobody gave me a guide book and said, here's a list of all the people you'll ever meet, of whom some will fuck you up so bad, you'll feel the knife twisting in your back even years later. Nobody said anything about crying yourself to sleep, or going through the motions. I didn't know it was possible to live for the sake of living until it was all I knew how to do.

The clock on my table says 12:29 AM, Monday. I have class tomorrow, we have a quiz, we still have to encode the results of our pre-test for our thesis. I have a lot to do, and yet, my mind has thoughts about nothing but the only person I realy wouldn't want to think about right now.

Do you know what it feels like when you trust someone with all of you, only to have them turn on you? And even though all along, you expected them to hurt you, because really, that's all you've ever known, their betrayal still comes as a surprise because you actually thought maybe, just maybe, this one time, the universe could afford to be kind. It sucks, right? It's one of the worst things in the world, and if you're going to be honest about it, you can't even be mad at them because you're already so mad at yourself for falling for their tricks twice.

Maybe I've been putting my faith in the hands of all the wrong people, or maybe he's looking for absolution in all the wrong places, but we have one thing in common. We've both left part of ourselves out, sitting under a cold trickle of constant criticisms and misgivings, and now we have no way of wriggling out of our hardened selves. It's hard to think that this is how it's going to be now, but I know no other way. I can't deal with anyone or anything else until I know how to forgive myself. It's about time I forgive myself.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Things that help me sleep at night

In five years, none of these things stressing me out today will matter. Your opinion of me will stop playing in mad loops in my head. I'll be far away, out of your reach; you'll probably still be stuck here, making someone else feel small so that you may feel good about yourself.

I'll finally have a chance to do something about my dreams. All my life, I've been told that education is important, and yes, it is important, but only because society gives such a big damn about formal teaching and classroom instructions. If you ask me, my answer will always be constant. Getting all the answers right on my exam doesn't make me feel smart or that I've actually learned something from my subjects - it only means, for me, that I'm good in memorizing things. Give me the same exam two weeks later without prior notice and I'll surely get less than 50% of the answers correct. My point is that I love school, and I like learning from it, but I understand why and how it can't be like that for everyone.

I'm feeling so down lately, and it's hard for me to be happy for anyone else when I can't even be happy about myself, but it relieves me to know that these things pass, sometimes faster than I expect. It helps that in my mind, I've planted a thought that believes I can do anything once I put my mind to it, and so far, it's true. It's all so true.

I have a lot of things going on in my mind right now, but I've come this far, and I have a long way to go yet. No matter what it feels like, I know it's not the end. And that alone gives me enough strength to look forward to tomorrow, not necessarily positively, but it's at least a step I'm willing to take.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Last night, my friend shared a post on Facebook from a confessions page, wherein someone wrote an open letter to his soon to be ex girlfriend. Intrigued, I read the whole thing, and found out that the guy is dying from cancer, so he was breaking up with his girlfriend to set her free, to make it hurt less once it's time for him to go completely. Because the theme and mood of it hit too close to home, I pressed the share button and let it stay on my timeline. I'm now quoting the whole thing after this line. 

An Open Letter to My Soon-to-be Ex-Girlfriend
Hi. I know it has been 3 weeks since I last talked to you, and I know, you still don't know what's going on. I know that you're an avid reader of this page, so I think this is the best place to explain. The title says it all, you're my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, because I'm breaking up with you on the 12th of October... that's tomorrow.
I put our word of endearment as my screen name so you'll know it's me.
The page might post this late, but at least I've prepared my explanation already before I start to cut the loose ends tomorrow.
First of all, I want you to know that I will not tell this to you in person not because of the grudges that I have. In fact, I have no hard feelings. It's just that... I don't wanna have a long discussion tomorrow. I want to keep tomorrow's talk concise.
Second, I want you to know that our 65-month relationship is something that I would treasure forever. You're my high school crush, and I still can't believe the moment that you said "yes". It was euphoric. It was the best day of my life.
Third, I want you to know that I will still look out of you as long as I could. So, no. You're not going to turn into a twerkin-like-Miley bitch that will be used by assholes waiting for you to spread your legs. No, it won't happen. Remember Luke? Remember what happened to him when he tried to abuse you on FB chat? Yep, my family will do the same to the guys that will try to do the same as Luke. hahaha
Fourth, I want you to know that it's not because we're not getting enough sex anymore. We've had those sexy times, and I know we're both getting busy. And it's not because of that. I'm not a dry land that needs water every now and then. It's fine. It's not because of that. I swear. So don't try to seduce me on Monday.
Fifth, I want you to know why am I going to do this... I want you to know it's for your own well-being. I know we've had so many plans for the future. Like that El Nido wedding that you want. The dream house that you want by the bay... The BMW... I know, those dreams are rather silly, but still attainable... before.
Sixth, I want you to know that those dreams are not going to happen anymore.
Seventh, I want you to know that I'm about to cut the chase now.
Eighth, I want you to know that the doctors recently diagnosed a stage 4 lung cancer. Not on my dad, neither on my mom nor my grandpa, but on me. They said that it's too late to treat, and the cancer has spread all over my body already.
Ninth, I want you to know that I'm going to die soon.
Tenth, I want you to know that I'm doing this so you can get used to live without my presence. I know it's going to be hard for both of us, but I know it's harder for you. You gotta endure it longer. I hope that I can live a bit longer so I can see you fully-moved on before I die. So once you hear the news, it's just nothing anymore.
Eleventh, I want you to know that I will always love you. I'm going to miss you.
(FEU Manila – 2013, IABF)

I read the post again tonight cause something has been gnawing at my mind all day. I knew there was something wrong with this post, and it was only earlier this evening when I was on my way home that I realized: what an asshole.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not heartless. Like I said, the reason I shared the post in the first place was because it hit close to home. But I find it quite confusing that this guy would post something like this on social media for everyone, including his soon to be ex-girlfriend, to see, when he should be talking to her in private. I admit I'm not much into dating right now, but if anyone would ask me, I wouldn't want to find out something like this in the way he chose for her to. If you look in the comments section, you'll find that most people are sympathetic and sad, because he's dying. I get it that he's dying. But that doesn't excuse him (in my eyes, in my opinion) from doing something this cruel to the girl he says he loves.

 He said he is doing this because when they finally meet up to talk, he doesn't want to explain himself to her anymore. I guess that means he wants a clean break. I get that, too. But on social media, really? You could have sent an email. Heck, you could have pulled a classic Joe Jonas and sent her a text instead, and don't say you couldn't have because you didn't want her to know right away. You freaking posted it on Facebook and made it clear that you used your term of endearment so she'd know it was you. You claim to love this girl, and yet you cancelled that out in the most basic way.

She had a right to know what was going on. I admit I don't know anything about your relationship except for what has been posted, but anyone can tell you this: you could have pulled her to the side and talked to her. She should have been given the right to hear it from you, then to decide for herself if she wanted to stand by you or not.

But she was denied that chance.

I know he's dying, and everyone thinks it's sad. It is sad. And I know this post makes me sound callous for calling him out on it, but someone had to do it. It's so unfair that she has to find out through Facebook. Imagine going through your day, then seeing this on your timeline, and then realizing it was for you all along. How would that make you feel?

 Is it really so hard to have maybe half an hour with someone and discuss matters as important as this privately? If you really love that person, can't you at least give them that?

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

I've been reading a lot of books lately, and I realize now that most books of the young adult genre focus on suicide and depression, and most of them romanticize the idea, as if there's something beautiful to see in it.

I guess they have one purpose,  that is to get the message across that none of it is romantic or beautiful at all. It's serious, and when you're in it too deep, you actually end up getting buried, and very few are saved by the new boy at school, or the one you meet online that turns out to be a really amazing human being.

I know how hard it is to even want to pick yourself up after stumbling down so many times. It takes so much effort, and most times it doesn't seem worthy. I've been there, sad to say. I was so proud of myself for being so hauntingly beautifully sad without feeling the need to "catch the bus" as they apparently call it, but one day, I woke up to find that the part of me who had no reason to live has won. I've entertained the idea one too many times. There was as afternoon I was heading home that I almost got hit by a bus, and all I could think of was how exhilarating it was.

I'm so far from being the person I was three years ago. I'm so far from healing, from feeling okay again. It will take time. I'm not considering taking that path anymore, and maybe right now I'm in an easier place, but I still have a long way to go. I don't have anyone to talk to about this, and even if I do, I can't begin to imagine how hard it would be to open myself up, make myself vulnerable, lay my secrets bare before anyone. I don't even trust people these days. Anyone nice has an ulterior motive, and anyone who isn't just isn't worth my time. 

There are no words for how hard it is to fight this battle, to tell yourself to open your eyes each morning, to convince yourself not to listen to that dark voice in your head, telling you the easy way out. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, self harm, or suicidal thoughts, please, seek help and offer help. Know that there's someone who loves you, needs you, whose life is infinitesimally better just because you are in it. It's gonna take some time and a lot of strength, but as humans, the truth is, who do we have if not each other?

Saturday, October 10, 2015

I'm gonna lay it bare tonight. I'll tell you of all the sadness, of all the effort it takes to get through every day.

I've been listening to Hello, I'm In Delaware by City and Colour a lot lately. I don't know how a person could feel so much yet be so hollow at the same time. I want to claw at my skin. I want to take myself apart, piece by piece, to find what I've been missing all this time, to see which part needs fixing.

There's someone I love, and I wish I could say it's all easy, it's all okay. But life is more complicated than that. There's someone I love, and yes, he loves me, but not enough, and not in the way I'm ready to offer myself to him, heart included. In this exact moment, he's fading. Not only from my life, but from the world.

Lately, I feel like a bystander in my own life. I've never liked any attention being focused on me, but now that I feel invisible, I'm craving for someone to look me in the eye even as I laugh, shake their head and say no, you're not okay. I don't buy your bullshit, and you're not okay. Maybe one of these days, I'll be brave enough to admit it, and that I haven't been okay for a while. Maybe I'll ask them out for coffee, and together, we can figure out why.

I used to feel so much bigger than this. I've always been able to tell myself that everything will fall in its rightful place in time, but right now, I'm finding it so hard to believe that. All I know is sadness, and I'm not even sad about it. I wish I was sad about it.

I don't know what I want, but I know I don't want this. I don't want to do that again. To wake up in the mornings knowing a part of me has been severed, like a limb torn, its absence echoed by the searing pain of what is left behind. I don't want to know what it's like to lose a friend all over again. I don't want my heart to die. I don't want whatever beginning is wrapped up in this looming ending, and frankly, I'd rather live everyday knowing I wasn't chosen than be here realizing there wasn't really much of a choice in the first place.

Please, help me help you.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

We met on a sleepy Tuesday, in the afternoon, when dreams were tempting, but reality pulled our heads back from the clouds. In an old book shop, our fingers brushed, then recoiled from the naked spine of a hard-covered classic I'd probably never have the strength, will, or time to read. There was the old book smell lingering in the air. Bells and chimes hung by the door, giggling musically as they were tickled by the summer breeze.

The shelves were old and worn. There was dust in the air. Sun beams washed the small, breathing space in a golden glow, and the books themselves twinkled. This was how we met, and you became a permanent part of my everyday life.

You were there on all the bus rides I took to random places to fill the emptiness in my eyes. You knew what got to me: it was Death Cab for Cutie, it was Snow Patrol, it was Bon Iver. You were there to listen to the saddest songs; the inspiration to my darkest fantasies.

I remember you sitting by my side as I cried my heart out that day at my uncle's house, when it was lunch time and I had to put my plate down and run when my grandfather said I shouldn't eat too much, because I was fat. Even now, you know how much this still hurts. You know how I've never really been able to look at the mirror and like what I see since then.

It was you, not anyone or anything else, that knew of the strength I had to pull from nothing when my teachers pulled me aside and accused me of being pregnant, also because I was fat. Because unlike them or other women, I saw nothing wrong with not being skin and bones. You saw how my hands trembled; you heard my voice waver as I said no, I wasn't pregnant, and no, I wasn't offended. You knew what I was even without me saying it: I was hurt that even after explaining myself, I knew they didn't believe me. 

In mornings when it was hardest to drag myself out of bed, you held me down and said it was okay. It was okay to be stagnant sometimes. There was no rush. There was nothing more important than the galaxy that was dying inside me. You said, nurture it, nurture me, and I did.

You've grown to be such a big part of my life. I don't know how to live without you, and I'm not sure I'd ever want to. Even on that very first day, I knew, when you opened your arms and gave me a home, there was no escaping you.

And so when you said, Hello, my name is Sadness, I embraced you and answered, I've been waiting for you.