“Why didn’t you come home last week? Tell me if you’re sick so I don’t have to worry. Are you sick? Are you hurting? Did you sprain your foot? Did you have a cold? Did you eat something bad?”
How could I tell her that my heart hurts, that I feel so so so sad, that I feel like dying, and that I hate going home because I don’t want them to see their pathetic child?
Minsan gusto ko nalang mawala, yung total disappearance from everyone’s memories. Yung para bang di ako nag exist. Ilang luha pa ba bago ako maanod mula sa mga alaala nyo? Aalis, lilipat, tatangayin. Anywhere but here, mga kapatid.
Numb self and sad heart,
Rustling leaves, blinding sunlight
Participating in this prompt
“…Do not by any means destroy yourself, for if you live you may yet have good fortune. But, all the dead are dead alike.” -CS Lewis
I just finished sending a personal project I did to cheer up a friend who said that she’s worried that her depression will kick in while she’s at her favorite boy group’s concert. I want to cheer her up and let her enjoy the event because I hate to think that she’ll be robbed of her chance because of that horrible illness.
I love doing simple artsy projects for friends and I love it when they appreciate things.
But I still feel so so so sad.
I was reading a reddit comment of a suicidal guy who managed to get out of the hell hole and turn his life around. He posted this quote from C.S. Lewis: “…Do not by any means destroy yourself, for if you live you may yet have good fortune. But, all the dead are dead alike.” and I just cried and cried for a good 15 minutes. It was weird, I was okay at first but reading that line made my heart feel so hollow beyond words. I’ve yet to consult if I have any mental illness because seriously, this horrible deadness is eating me alive and making me miserable.
I’m actually hesitant to visit a doctor because I feel so “privileged” to be sick. I have normal and loving family, a considerable amount of good friends, an awesome boyfriend, but something’s still bothering me for the longest time.
Oh well, I don’t wanna rant here about this issue, so yeah~
Tito Sotto’s brain
caged in misogyny and
Hello, hello. In our local news, our dear senator Tito Sotto just “joked” about single mothers, that in street language, they’re just “na-ano lang” or “just got..you know..” (haha, what a weird translation, but god, he is so ridiculous I wonder why aliens haven’t abducted him yet). This is an FB post regarding the matter. I wonder what shitload of a trainwreck is his thoughts.
Participating in this prompt
Most of the time, we are not the ones who choose what apprenticeship we take. We don’t notice it, but the world has a funny, unique, and cruel way of assigning us under certain people.
Family, for one, is an inevitable and unavoidable apprenticeship. We don’t get to choose our parents and families, and we’re bound to learn and get destroyed by them at certain times. We learn in different and subtle ways. For example, the crashing of dishes means one has to go upstairs and wait for the exchange of shouts to subside. Forced smiles and courtesy laughs in the presence of uncomfortable company teach pleasantries and patience. Your mom’s tear-streaked face is a warning what kind of person you shouldn’t marry. Gossiping during family gatherings and knowing how rude words can be teach you not to judge others harshly. Shutting up and being a mindless robot in the presence of him guarantees absence of another sarcastic comment and snide remarks.
There are lessons we can’t avoid, there really lessons that we’d rather not learn, but we learn it anyway, there are lessons that we hope to discover in a nicer way, but they come in the most horrible forms. We have so many unwanted apprenticeships that we are forced to take and we have no choice but to face it. I don’t know how to end this, but let’s just summarize it this way: these lessons sucked and we’re hoping it wouldn’t tomorrow.
Participating in this prompt
I remember writing about my relationship with my dad back in my 2nd year college. It stirred so many hazy memories. Some sad, some bland, some just there so I don’t forget what he’s like.
My dad worked abroad for most of his life and we only got to see him for 2-3 months every year during those times. Many families in the Philippines are like that–children grow up with their parents abroad to sustain their loved ones left in the country. They are separated by lands and seas and connected by thoughts and prayers.
People think it’s hard for me to grow without a father figure. For someone who was born after her dad started his career abroad, I’m not really bothered by the lack of a dad in the household. When you’re someone who grew up without something, you don’t suddenly miss what you’re lacking when you’re used to not having it. When he was on his 2-3 month vacation, a month of it was spent trying to be the “good kid” he probably imagined. The next month or so was usually spent basically ignoring each other because he had come to realize that we were not the children he wanted us to be, that we fall short of his expectations. Our courtesy laughs became silence, our forced smiles became empty stares.
As I grow older, more hard feelings develop especially when he’s around. Sometimes we try to reach out, sometimes he does. It felt, and still feels, like we’re communicating using two cups connected by a yarn. It’s just that that thread that connects us is just so loose that I can’t feel that he’s on the other line. I tug, I pull, I yank the yarn, hoping that he’ll know I’m still on the other end. The yarn falls loose, as if the other cup has been thrown away. Maybe the line’s just too long, maybe our tugging’s not enough, maybe the thread’s been cut off, I don’t know. I just want to know if he’s still waiting and listening on the other line.
Participating in this prompt
I sometimes forget that my phone camera is pretty awesome because of how rare I take pictures. I’m a bad photographer myself, but my phone camera does a great job in turning shots into decent photos. I think I’m going to tinker with our DSLR when I come home.
Life update: still lost. I just discovered the most suitable phrase to describe my life right now: waiting for the shit to hit the fan. I don’t know if I should still be thankful for waking up.
Anywayyyy, things are still the same here, I’m picking up artsy hobbies to busy and distract myself. I’m still bummed out that I don’t have artistic talents like my bro or sis. My sister is now a pretty awesome artist and she’s graduating this year. I’m really envious of how well she draws, but I also remember how intense she practiced back then. She’d always draw and design and doodle faces or anything she likes, and her passion and dedication is very admirable. How I wish I persevered with writing too. Not too late to pick it up, though.
Our puppy’s big now! I have no latest pictures though. Janelle’s really sweet and cute, but I hate how she always enters the house! The dogs are allowed in the front and back yard, but not inside the house because good lord, we don’t want poop and pee and all excretions in our home. Ah, Jane, please behave.
Kanina, naisipan ko na naman ayusin yung post cards ko. Nawili ako mangolekta ng post cards at art prints mula nung magsimula ako umattend ng komiket at komikon. Wala naman ako balak ipadala yung mga binibili ko kasi, hello, 50-100 pesos yung cards, tsaka ang rason ko rin naman talaga e ididisplay ko yung mga yun sa kwarto ko. Na hindi ko pa nagagawa. Ni nasisimulan.
So back to the story, edi ayun, kinuha ko na naman mula sa overhead cabinet ko yung post cards. Proud na proud ako sa sarili ko kasi feeling ko ang dami ko na nabili since almost 2 years na naman ata ako umaattend ng local comic events. Aba nung nilatag ko na sila isa-isa, halos 15 pieces palang pala yung nakokolekta ko. Kala ko around 40 na, imagination ko lang pala.
Napaisip tuloy ako, pucha, pag namatay ako, eto lang at comics mga mapapamana ko. Aanhin naman ng pamilya ko tong post cards?? Mapapadala ba nila to sa afterlife?
Nalungkot naman ako. Sana pagkakitaan o itago man lang nila to pag nawala ako. At least may maiiwan akong funny comics. Pwedz narin.
Dami ko pang unread books. Shet.
The night is long and there have been many wake up calls even when the darkness hasn’t faded yet. I still haven’t found my torch but the clock is ticking and I’m getting left behind in a place where time stands still. Time to trudge into the woods.