Follow-through

I suck at relationships, really. Not specifically the romantic kind because I don’t even have first hand knowledge of it. I mean in a general sense. I suck.

I fucking suck.

Beside sucking at keeping in touch, I suck at being appreciative and expressing my sentiments in a way that does not come off too offensive. I have a sharp tongue. I kind of believed I had it toned down a bit but it’s as sharp as ever. I don’t know how to apologize properly, and I keep choosing my pride and ego over anything.

There are times, though, that I stepped on my pride to keep my friendship with someone but most of them ended up with me regretting doing it in the first place. I don’t know. I try for people but I just don’t seem to get any of it right.

I like rare and a lot of rare things and people that I stumbled upon ended up slipping away. It has to be my fault, isn’t it? And I know that opening up this kind of thing to people will only result to them reprimanding me and lecturing me, telling me the same thing almost everyone has told me, even myself–-–that I only stop at realizations and I don’t really attempt to change anything.

You know, reality is, you can have all this kind of realizations and still be unable to do anything about it. And what I fucking hate the most? Almost everyone I talk to makes it sound so simple. They speak as if knowing the right thing and doing just that is so fucking easy. NOPE. Knowing what’s right and doing it are two separate things. Not everyone easily learns the follow-through.

It makes me sick. When people start getting self-righteous, I have this urge to scream at them. But I resort to silence. I resort to walking away. Because it will get nowhere. I will get pissed and become irrational.

Maybe I’m really better off alone.

I’m probably better off alone.

Blind side

December 31, 2015
5:45am (drafted post)

About five days ago, Dad came over. He visited us after Christmas to see baby Coleen.

I was glad. I liked talking to Dad once in a while, but I honestly don’t like if he sticks around too long. We talked about many things when he offered to drop Mich and I off in Santolan. But it didn’t actually turn out well. I don’t know. It’s either because I’m too feisty, or his point didn’t come across to me properly. Nonetheless, I don’t like people telling me shit I already know. I don’t like people devaluing my hard work just because theirs didn’t amount to something worthwhile. I don’t like people imposing me their belief system.

I don’t like people preaching around like a damn saint just because they’re claiming to have found their salvation.

It disgusts me.

Dad and I somehow got into an argument because he keeps insisting his opinion, and when I point that out he disclaims it. He started blabbering about this thing between using your heart and brain. Somewhere around the lines “you’ll end up really sad if you only always use your brain”. Don’t know. Numerous clichéd lines you probably know.

It came off as an offense. It felt like he’s trying to tell me that I’m all just about brains, no heart. Jeezus. I don’t even know where he’s getting all the crap he’s saying. He doesn’t know anything about me, about any of us siblings. He’s just a person who happened to have ‘our dad’ label.

And it pisses me off.

That exchange didn’t seem enough when he stayed around for another day in the house, even inviting my young cousin Harris for a drink. He began preaching about some random thing again about courage, and I jokingly corrected his pronunciation. They all laughed, and Ate Ten pointed out, “Taga-UP yan! Haha”, which I didn’t exactly liked. Then Dad started blabbering again about this story about his friend who happened to be from UP as well. He told us about how this certain friend’s intelligence went to his head, and when they had a fight he remembered reciting a couple of supposedly staggering lines to get him through his senses. He kept pointing out that his friend’s being from UP wouldn’t have been possible without his help. And that his intelligence is complete naught if he ain’t street smart, to which Dad accredits himself.

Thing is, it’s the same stupid sequence. He starts blathering on about things he could glorify himself with, and puts down other people for relying on their brains. I didn’t understand. It ticked me off. In fact, Dad is smart. Mom had stories about him in high school when he’d ace exams without studying. And I could tell he is because he has a wide set of vocabulary. And he speaks well.

Is it insecurity, Dad?

That night, I know Dad realized he pissed me off. Because I kind of exploded when he continued his bullshit story. Almost shouting, I exclaimed how I should have just fuck it over with my damn studies if they’re just gonna give me a lot of crap for supposedly being “intelligent”. What the fuck do you want? Weren’t you all the one who wanted me to become who I am now? Weren’t you, lolo, and lola the ones who pressed me into doing all these fuckery now? You all made me think I needed to be somebody when I grow up, and the only way to that is to become who I am now. And now that I am who I am now, you’re giving me that crap? Bullshit.

What I told him wasn’t much, in fact it was short, because I said that in a slightly blind rage. But it was long enough to make him realize he crossed the line.

I vented out on twitter, wondered how pathetic insecure people are, because they’d try to put you down for everything you are, because everything you are is everything they’re not. I know it was mean of me to think of Dad that way, but he really hurt my pride. He didn’t have the right to be proud of me.

Two days after, Dad was back here again. When he arrived, I asked him why he was here, in my attempt to be rude. I know, how immature. Anyway, Ate told me he left his charger so he dropped by. Then I left to meet Dhea in UP Town Center.

A few minutes after arriving back, I found myself fooling around my siblings over Mich’s ridiculously bleached hair. And then Ate Ten mentioned that Dad would probably reprimand Mich if he sees her tonight. Surprised, I asked her if Dad’s staying in. She confirmed it, saying it’s just for the day. I’m guessing Dad went out to hang out with his friends so as to not waste his trip here (he lives in Pampanga, with my grandparents). And then I went acting annoyed. Ate Ten brought up the day when I burst out in front of Dad, told me Dad talked to her that night, saying he was surprised and saddened by how I reacted. To make the story short, I ended up arguing with my sister and her boyfriend about it, both of them insisting that I got it wrong. And Dad was sad. I know Dad is insecure, because I know despite his brains, he didn’t have a good life. He was a drug addict. Grandpa put him into rehab thrice, and was banished many times. I know life fucked him over, but that doesn’t give him the license to behave like that. I can’t help but be angry with him, even for reasons that didn’t involve those certain exchanges. It’s just like me. When this kind of things happen, flashbacks would haunt me. Specifically the bad ones. They always seem relevant when something’s fucking up in my life. I then remembered the days when I was a kid, barely familiar with the world. I was five then, and from school I arrived to a sight of Mom crying quietly in the living room, her neck bleeding; my younger sister screaming and crying apparently locked down in one of our rooms. And then I was seven. I woke up to the sound of two women crying and pleading. Slightly opening the door, I could see Dad throwing punches at mom, who’s apparently trying to cover and protect my then 16-year old eldest sister, who went home at 11pm to Dad’s rage. There were many. I witnessed a lot of things – awful, sad, tragic – when I was young. And almost all of them were times when I’d just stand there quietly, crying because I can’t do anything. My childhood wasn’t particularly happy, but it wasn’t exactly miserable either. To be fair, there are good memories with Dad. We were happy once. There were a lot of pictures of us looking really happy and content. I don’t know. Drugs fucked him up. And it broke our family.

And then Ate and Karl told me that it must be really difficult for Dad to deal with those insecurities because he knew he wasn’t able to fulfill his role as a father to us, and maybe it’s eating at him. And perhaps, whenever he gets together with his friends, they ask about us and he couldn’t say anything because he doesn’t really know anything. Maybe he didn’t expect us, especially Mom, to get through everything despite him abandoning us. Maybe he was drowning in regret, and this was the least he could do.

How much of it do I don’t understand, really?

Somehow, after that, my anger faded. And I’m writing this. Because I’m sad.

I’m sad for a lot of reasons. And I’m still trying to figure them out.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t

Ever encountered people who will really go out of their way to make you feel shitty for being who you are? Yeah, I know. What a miserable bunch. They will try to put you down for being everything that you are because everything that you are is everything they are not.

Trying to please everyone around you feels like being in a labyrinth — a huge one that didn’t actually have a way out. You go around strategizing and changing approaches, thinking if you tried hard enough, you’ll finally locate one.

But no, you’re perpetually trapped in the goddamn thing.

My life is like that kind of labyrinth.

Of course, I have changed my perspective on things through college. I realized just how idiotic and pointless it was to try to get everyone to like you, it won’t happen. But just because you understood that doesn’t mean change quickly follows. That kind of mindset was a social embedding made when I was a kid. It’s not going to wean off that easily.

All this time, it felt like I was just blindly trying to figure my way out of things. I tried to learn everything on my own as much as I can, tried to do everything as much as I could, all while simultaneously dealing with my twisted dispositions and emotional predicaments as a teenager. But none of it sufficed. Although I know it wasn’t, it’s as if none of my hardships paid off. As if all of these is stupidly pointless. And pointlessly stupid. 

And it never helped when discouragement and put downs came from the very people I expected support from. It never helped when people, especially my family, talk to me like I’m not doing it right.

Like how I might be a little too outspoken, honest, or straightforward.

Like how my strong personality might be too threatening to a potential partner’s ego.

Like how I might not be enjoying life the way I should.

Like how I might be too opinionated for my own good.

Like how I might be a little too serious for my age.

Like how I — there are tons of things. Innumerable. I never got it right. If you do nothing, people tell you off. If you try to do everything, people still do. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I was always either doing it wrongly or inadequately. It was always not enough. It was simply never fucking enough.

I’m tired. At times like this, the only thing I could do is walk away.

You can’t keep insisting gold to a person who only sees blue. You can never describe light to a person born blind. People deny and destroy what they can’t make sense of. You cannot force everyone to see things the way you see it. You cannot make everyone understand.

But you can try. You can only try hard enough.

Forewarning

Prompt: I trusted you, okay. I fucking trusted you and you were beating her all this time. You were fucking beating her.

Hey, do you have a dream? Do you have something you want to do when you grow up?

I had a lot of dreams when I was little. I wanted to be an animator, a writer, a doctor, a civil engineer, a lawyer, a band vocalist, a journalist; I wanted to be a lot of people for a lot of people. But when I entered high school, those dreams vanished. Whenever people ask me about my life ambitions, the only thing I tell them is that I want to have a family. I wanted to get married at 18, and be a mother at 22. I wanted to be a young mom so I don’t look way too old for my child.

I know, haha, it was a childish and stupid dream. And I think it was that same time I lost sight of the goal, suppose that I had any.

My friends invited me to enroll for a review center during summer vacation after my junior year in high school. I didn’t know what the fuss is with going to a review center that time, but I tagged along anyway. I knew then that it was some sort of review for college entrance exams. I was surprised. I thought that after high school, I could just go to a college I want and study. I didn’t know I had to take entrance exams. It was a silly thing to admit, especially being the only top student in the gang. I didn’t even know anything about UP then. I didn’t know UPCAT. Heck, I didn’t know what to do after high school—I didn’t have a damn direction. The only thing I remember is that Mom wants me to pursue medicine, while my grandparents are pressing me to take up law.

I wasn’t interested even after knowing all about it actually, but I was scared because they were all so worked up. And I’m not. That should be scary, right? Anyway, ironically I was the only one who passed UP.

A lot of things had happened in this household. I reckoned somehow you understood my resentment towards that asshole of a boyfriend of my eldest sister? He was hurting her physically. The only time I knew about it was when I was in 3rd year high school. She went home crying, her eyes swelling, her left cheekbone internally bleeding. Her cheekbone. Is fucking. Bleeding. Internally.

I was horrified. I easvesdropped while she was talking to my second eldest sister, and I found out that that bastard socked her when they had a fight. Left her in MOA (which was fucking miles away from home) and took her bag with him.

I was so angry. So angry. It was an understatement. I wanted to kill him.

Upon entering college, I still didn’t know who and what I was supposed to be. I didn’t have a direction. Until bad news kept coming in the house. Mom was scammed, that bastard cheated on her again, our house was robbed. I lost two cellphones in two fucking weeks, and I lost my wallet with my ATM in it. I was young, and those things happened simultaneously for the first time in my first year in college. It was a horrible life, I thought.

Series of unpleasant events came my way, and when I became a junior in college—or nope, actually, after turning nineteen, things changed for me. Long long long story, but anyway, I have a goal now. I want to be a lawyer. For real this time. And I suppose you understand how so a bit, after everything we’ve been through.

I love art and music more than anything. But there are far greater things I believe I could do while keeping those interests intact—I needed to protect my family. And I thought, maybe being a lawyer will do it. Surely, it should do it. There are a lot of things I could do when I become one, I thought. There are a lot of things I need and want to do for them. That’s the only thing I could think of now. I need to protect them. I want to protect them.

Sorry, that was all random, wasn’t it? I forgot to tell you why for another simple reason: I wanted to get rid of that asshole. For 8 fucking years (comprehend that mother of zeus), my sister stayed with him. Jesus Christ. That’s stupidity on a whole new level. I gave him three fucking chances for the three fucking times he cheated. Three, f u c k i n g, times. He was just using my sister, anyone could tell, or maybe at least people allergic to bullshit could.

He needs to pay for everything he did. He ruined her life; she let him; and everything she did from then on ruined our family in so many ways. God knows how much I hate her too. But I thought, maybe if he’s gone, we’ll have a chance.

Of course, you know I can’t kill him. I won’t; that’s too easy. I’m going to ruin his life. I’ll take everything away from him and ruin the lives of the people he valued. I’ll destroy everything until he pleads to be killed. Or better, until he kills himself. Tragic, no?

That’s why I’m thankful that you were a good guy to my sister. I don’t hate you for getting her pregnant, don’t worry. I would choose you over every talented guy out there who’d do the same thing that piece of shit did. You were nice, polite, and honest. I hope you don’t change that part of you.

But if I find out you were doing the same now, I’d add you to the list of lives I’ll ruin.

Don’t forget.

Dont

fucking

forget.