If I cry right now, I might not stop. If I let the pain out, it might suck me whole. If I allow the darkness freed, it might be too strong for me to fight. If I allow myself to grieve for the things I wished I had, I might get blinded for the things that I do have. If I let my hold on calm, on peace, on the knowledge that my God has got me, I might end up breaking into tiny pieces, never to be whole again.
So I will keep it in. I will inhale and exhale and be thankful that I still get to do that. I am tough. I am capable. I am able. And most importantly, He has got me in His palm, and I need not fear.
I need not doubt.
The ticking bomb that is me will remain His, and with His help, I will do my best not to explode.
For a long, long, long time this has been a plan. I want a study table with a bookshelf and tons of storage space for my school stuff. I’m going to add that to my growing list of things to save up for.
I’ve never been part of one, mostly because none of my friends have a car. Yet.
It’ll be so great if I do get a car, and learn to drive. We can go to Tagaytay, or Baguio, or somewhere new and unknown to me. We’d play songs on the radio that we all liked, eat tons of junk food, tell stories, talk about stuff we enjoy, play car games, and just be free to be whatever.
I’ve been thinking of how to begin this letter to you: should I mention the sad fact that we never actually got to celebrate father’s day together? Or should I just leave that unmentioned, because it just hurts too much to realize that I’ll never be able to celebrate this day, because you’re no longer here? Maybe, I could just mention it and leave as it is, since I can’t really do anything about it. Or maybe, the more I allow myself to hear/ read it, the more I can learn to accept and/or numb myself from the pain.
The last time I wrote you something was on my 27th birthday. I went by your resting place — at least the one that we living humans have as a symbol of it — and I think I told you just how difficult it is to live up to your wise words, the one you had written on my 7th birthday card: “Always have a happy heart.”
How did you know, daddy, that this would be my struggle? How did you know it would be so damn difficult for me to be happy? What or who gave you this quote, and what or who motivated you to pass it on to me?
Most importantly, if you knew how difficult it would be: why didn’t you stay?
I know all these questions will remain as they are. I know you’ll never get to answer them. A part of me has accepted that. Or maybe I’m just numbed out from the pain of disappointment, that the man who was supposed to protect and rescue me isn’t here anymore, and all I have is this rather vague reminder that I have used as my guiding light for so long, yet I still don’t understand it.
Why is it so hard to be happy, daddy? Why is it so hard to see the good in the bad, the light in the dark, the beauty in the ugly? Why can’t I stop?
I’m so tired, daddy. I’m so tired of fighting to keep my heart happy. Of wishing for things and people I cannot have. Of smiling and laughing when deep inside, I am shouting and crying.
I’m tired of pretending to be happy because you told me to keep my heart happy. It doesn’t seem to work that way.
I think it needs to start inside for it to be true outside.
So I’m going to try again, but this time, I’ll work on the inside first. Maybe this time, I hope, I’ll be able to do it.
Help me, daddy. Stay with me. Guide and protect me. Give me more patience, more understanding, more love. I need you, daddy. I can’t do this alone.
I don’t want to do this alone.
I’ll probably write you again, soon. If you can, please do try to visit me in my dreams.
To see my name on the by-line of an article or my name as the author of a book that gets to be read by millions of people, and for them to find some similarity or common ground with my thoughts and/ or feelings about an issue… that would be something in my book.
I just don’t know when or how it’ll happen, since I haven’t even tried to write anything with the intention of getting it published out there. Most of what I do write are random thoughts in my head, about my personal life. When I was younger, I had this feeling that my ideas would become important in the future which I now consider to be a sort of hallucination, and a great sign of my tendency to feel too self-important. Still, I can’t let go of the dream.
Besides, I do know what to do. I just need to be brave enough to actually do it.
Today, I learned that I am capable of murder, in theory.
Don’t worry though (not a really good thing to say because you’re probably going to worry anyway, and my saying it only makes you worry), I’m not going to do it actuality. I still have my fear and love of God, and of life in general.
But when the one person I thought and hoped would be on your side come whatever turns out to be the most selfish, self-centered, self-righteous bitch ever, I can just see it play out in your head, and the scariest thing is knowing I’d only probably feel bad after the fact.
Because the very same person is pushing me to face what she thought I felt, as if she knew me at all, and just don’t give a damn to the consequences of my words. The same way she has chosen to live her life, which is why she’s always broke, alone and helpless, but because of her unique talent to look rich, with friends and capable, she fools everyone. Even herself.
But I know I’m not like her. I’d rather die than be anything like her. So even though I absolutely HATE that I have to live with her, I will. Even though I know I’ll hate myself even more for hating her, I can’t help it anymore. She’s broken so many parts of my heart for so long, I’m just done.
And I don’t really like to write about it here, because I’m still very emotional about it, but I’ve realized, not writing about it, and keeping it all inside, because it reflects badly at me that I detest my own mother, is just unhealthy and stupid.
At this point, I just pray for the day I’ll wake up indifferent. That I will finally accept that the only living parent I ever knew would never be the parent I want, or need, or can love.
I want the hate out of me as much as I want the love out of me, because how can you love a person who can’t f*cking see how much you just need them to listen, to be at your side, FOR ONCE?
Then again, I am not on HER SIDE either, so in that aspect, neither of us loses. Or wins.
To bring up something I needed to do that she couldn’t and would never understand, and to blame me for her feelings of guilt, and to be so conceited and ugly and raise up HER feelings about how I, in her mind, mishandle MY feelings, AS IF SHE KNEW ME AT ALL, is the last straw.
I’m done. I’m done for good.
I’m sorry God, daddy, anyone else who is disappointed by this decision, but I am through with this. I’m so tired. I’m so so so tired.
Of pretending. Of hoping. Of wearing a mask. Of projecting an image that my family is a family.
When it’s not.
We don’t communicate. We talk, but no one listens. We don’t care for each other; just for ourselves. We are not a we. It is me, my brother, and her.
Individual. Separate. Stuck in a house we don’t even own.
And I hate it. I hate it and I want out.
But not yet. Not yet, because I need to be smart about this. I need to think it through. I need to make sure I make the right call. I need to be careful and wise and disciplined.
And I will.
For if there’s any silver lining for all of this, it’s the fact that my so-called family will motivate me to be a better person, because I refuse to get stuck in this hell hole for long.
Even if I know for sure I’m going to die within this year — don’t ask me why or how — I am going to keep planning on getting out of this hellish life with a mother I detest and a brother who doesn’t give a f*ck.
I am a good person. I’m trying to be a better person. I am being tested, and I aim to pass that test.
For as long as I have God in my life, I know, I am His, and I’ll be okay.
I’m trying to find a way to keep it private, though I know anyone who would eventually stumble upon it and actually be interested of reading about my internal raves and rants would probably be someone I don’t know personally.
At least I hope so.
I’m getting a little tired of being PC all the time, of watching how what I say would affect others, of berating myself for reacting in a way that other people consider to be something else, of already seeing how something I think about saying would make someone react or feel that I end up not saying it anymore.
The thing is, I am starting anew, but with my past experiences, I have learned that:
(1) I’m not really happy when I’m on my own all the time, no matter how much I’ve convinced myself that I am; (2) I like lending a helping hand to people I work with, BUT only to a certain extent because I absolutely refuse being abused by my generosity and when I feel that I am about to be so, I slowly but rather obviously, back away and people tend to see that as something bad, I guess; (3) I have so much opinions about the things I see or hear without really intending to see or hear them; (4) Most of my opinions reflect how self-righteous I can get, and I absolutely hate that I am, but it can’t be helped. A part of me wants to blame the fact that I am my mother’s daughter, hence I was raised to believe that I am better that most, but in reality, I know I am not really. (5) And lastly, I can only really trust my self with most of the things I think about. When I speak about them, there’s a big chance they’d be used against me, and I really don’t want that to happen.
And so I keep reminding myself two things:
(1) What others say about me is reflection of who they are, not of who I am. Alternatively, what I say about them is a reflection of me. It’s okay to think things about certain people, but it’ll be better (though not so easy) to keep them to myself.
(2) I can’t expect someone I consider a friend to keep my secret when I can’t keep my own. So as the great (not!) Daniel Padilla said (pertaining to his own, non-voting “fans, but I will use it in a different context altogether) "Shut up na lang (ako)!”
Also, these things I badly want to say about certain people I have to work with for the foreseeable future are rather negative, and I don’t have room for negativity in my life, so yeah. I’ll just go make a gratitude list instead.
These are just some stuff I need/ want and will help me be more motivated to do good work and be more disciplined with money:
HAIR REBOND Absolutely need and want this done before the school year officially starts.
BIKE I’d like to make it a Saturday habit to bike around and get some exercise.
CELLPHONE Not necessarily an urgent need, but my phone right now is slowly showing signs of old age so it won’t hurt to save up for a possible replacement.
SPORTS BRA Again, for exercising purposes, but also not an urgent need.
WISDOM TEETH EXTRACTION AND BRACES I’d really liked to get this done soon, but it’ll cost a lot of money and time (since I’d have to take a couple of days rest) so I’ll just leave this here for now.
STUDY TABLE WITH BOOKSHELVES Something I plan to splurge on one day.
WINDOW BLINDS IN THE LIVING ROOM Because it’s the homeowner’s orders.
I’ve been contemplating about writing about this list for over a week now, ever since I started working in MIIS and became mindfully aware that after six years of professionally working, I haven’t been able to manage my earnings very smartly.
Since this is an area of *great* concern, I am more than excited to work on it. I have committed to managing my earnings from MIIS this way:
30% will go to my Savings account and shall NOT be touched unless it’s an emergency
10% will go to as my Church tithe
20 % will be alloted to my contributions to the utilities at home
40% will be budgetted for my daily needs and/ or wants
So that means if I get, say, 5K as my half month salary (since we get paid every 15th and 30th), that’ll mean the money will be divided as: