REPORT A PROBLEM
my dad divides all characters into two categories: heroes and villains. i wish it was all so simple. black and white. right and wrong. good and evil.
but it isn't that way.
between black and white there's always that strange no-color color gray. not to mention all the other colors of the rainbow.
between good and evil is not a solid line but a blurred one. there's overlapping. there's vagueness. there's integration. there's humanity. there's always a why to every black deed that makes it seem less sinister. there is always a why behind good that stains its purity.
here beside me lies a guy perfect for me. he is sweet. he is good to me. he understands my mood swings, my hormonal imbalances, my sicknesses, my obsessiveness. he knows what i love, what i hate. he knows how to comfort me when i'm unhappy. and he loves me. and yet i'm not happy with him.
here lies on the other side the guy i want to be perfect for. he is arrogant and obnoxious. he's intelligent and interesting. he's a skirt-chasing, loudmouthed, superficial alcoholic. and i'm in love with him.
what the hell is wrong with me?
i have never gotten drunk before.
that's a lie of course. i
gotten drunk. i have been tipsy, and nauseous. the drunk part i only got to tonight. i guess without my harness i let myself loose and threw away all caution. result: piss drunkenness. of course, my companions were too.
so we walked home in the dead of the night oblivious to the possible dangers of doing so, talking in loud voices without realizing it, and remembering nothing of what happened and what we talked about when we woke up the next day. so this is a hangover.
i have a secret that i can't tell anyone. i hate secrets. i keep them well, but i hate them all the same. i am the kind of person who wants to tell everything to the person i trust the most. that's the problem isn't it? that's where the problem started. i couldn't keep my mouth shut, and i ended up telling him what i shouldn't have.
and now i have another secret, and i'm bursting to tell it. but this time, i won't spill. this time, i'll carefully hide this secret where it won't see the light of day.
whenever i hear matchbox 20 songs i remember you.
i remember you back when we were in first year high school and you were asking for advice on how to break up with your girlfriend, our friend.
i remember you during our yearender trying to sing out what you couldn't tell her.
i remember you when you're drunk, and how you talk too loudly.
i remember you as you were, as you are, as you've always been, belting out in your slightly off-key and not-really-pleasant singing voice, with a confidence that makes us believe you can sing.
he is my neighbor. he is my classmate. he is my org mate. he is my bloc mate. and that is all. but that is not all.
he is my drinking buddy. some nights under the cloak of darkness and forgetfulness, under the haze of drunkenness and nausea he can be a lot more. he can be my partner in crime. he can be part of my mischief. he can be a part of me, only during these moments.
tomorrow when the sun rises, we will go back to how we always are. neighbors. classmates. orgmates. blocmates. and that's all.
maybe humans were made with self-destructive tendencies. we complain about the pain, the failures, the disappointments, taking for granted the fact that a lot of the time we set ourselves up for it.
do we have the right to hope to top exams when we didn't study for them?
do we have the right to hope to win when no effort was expended into making sure of it?
do we have the right to hope for a happy ending when we know from the beginning how wrong the circumstances are?
yet maybe that's what's wrong with us. we hope.
plans change all the time. it's all a part of life, and i know i don't have to act as though it was a tragedy that today's plans didn't follow through. i did though, because i really wanted to go out tonight, drink and be merry.
and so i spent two hours sitting idly in a computer shop moping, as he tried to cajole me into walking home because he was sleepy. and after two hours i gave up on hoping something exciting was going to happen tonight and gave in to his offer of walking home together, as usual.
plans change all the time. disappointed as i was that we didn't get to go out and party, i was still glad at the prospect of walking home together, just the two of us, often though it happens. so imagine my dismay when we ran into another neighbor-friend and so picked up another walking companion.
don't get me wrong. this girl and i, we're friends. we're pretty close friends, and i do like having her around. but as they say, two's company and three is a crowd. feeling selfish and territorial, i sighed and smiled. what's wrong with crowds?
i have a secret and i won't tell.
rather, i mustn't tell. if i do, the world as i know it would come crashing down.
if i do, there would be a lot of pointing fingers, and most of them wouldn't be directed at me.
if i do, tongues would wag, gossip would spread, and trust will break.
if i do, there would be no more chance of anything going back to the way they were. there would be no more chance for reconciliation and forgiveness.
if i do, hearts better than mine would break.
and i went and told.
i remember him in every little thing, everyday.
i remember him each time i pass by his fraternity house, his fraternity hangout, his fraternity brothers who call out to greet me.
i remember him every time that cheesy theme song for "Full House" plays, simply because we got together around the time it first aired.
i remember him whenever i see someone use Leshrac as their DotA hero, although he's always been such a noob at it.
i remember him whenever i go out to drink with friends, because the reason i'm doing this is so i could forget him.
we talk every night. it might seem sweet but it isn't, because he keeps rejecting me. i say i miss you, i want you, i love you and he laughs at me. i guess i deserve it after what i did. i guess this means we won't be getting back together.
even if he begs me.
this is my pride speaking. i can't possibly allow us to get back together after he rejected me so many times. nevermind that it's all my fault. that's not the way pride works.
that's the only reason why i won't get together with ix.
we have a new house help and she's going to live in our house. we've always had maids, but now i prefer that we don't. i don't like having strangers in the house. i don't like having my personal space invaded. and i like staying in the house all alone.
because that's when the mischief starts.
goodbye to coming home late in the night drunk, and sneaking in to bed. goodbye to using the computer in the wee hours of the morning. and i haven't even tried drinking with the next door neighbor when i have the house to myself.
more than any deadly sin, i'm guilty of pride. i blame my pride for never wanting to say
. i blame my pride for never admitting my weaknesses. i blame my pride for never wanting to let anyone know i care. i blame my pride for being unable to say
i love you
and maybe this is my punishment. maybe this is karma. they say karma is a bitch, and it sure is bitching at me now.
and i don't think it'll stop until it's crushed all my pride and dignity into pieces.
alas, pride goes before a fall.
i look out the sliding glass door at the sky getting darker. night is falling, and the air has never felt so cold. maybe it's global warming. maybe it's because i'm lonely.
nowadays i find that there's only one solution for this coldness seeping into my core: alcohol. they call it running away, but i say it's solace. solace, and much more. in it i find company. camaraderie. in it i sometimes find more than i bargained for.
because i ran to alcohol to ease my coldness, and i get borrowed warmth, in a form i never would have imagined.
wouldn't it be great to be you and me against the world? wouldn't it be exhilarating, you and me, side by side, taking on everyone else who doesn't approve of us being together. wouldn't it be amazing to be just you and me, me and you, and knowing that together we can do anything, be anything. we're so perfect together. we fit together so seamlessly that maybe, just maybe it's wrong. nothing is supposed to be perfect. it wouldn't be fair.
and maybe that's why this is impossible. there is no you and me. there's just me against the world.
after all this, i wish i could run back into your loving arms and cry my heart out and tell you how sorry i am, the way i never could with the dad that i hated and with the God i couldn't make myself believe in.
but i can't. i can't in the way i couldn't with them. this is why i hate unconditional love. this is my pride speaking out.
i don't want to come back to you defeated. i don't want to come back to you and be showered with the love and affection that i don't deserve.
i skipped this day this month because there was nothing to write about that i haven't already. i have been redundant and repetitive this month. tediously analyzing every single remaining piece of my life and obsessing. now i wonder what had happened on this day, this day that i skipped.
for the life of me, i can't remember. is this it? the effect of having a brain swimming in alcohol? is it so uninteresting that i never bothered caring?
and i think now how many days of my life end up like that. forgotten.
it was only two weeks ago.
this morning i woke up, puffy-eyed from crying myself to sleep the previous night, and told myself, "happy birthday. are you happy? you're alone and lonely and maybe you deserve it for being so nasty."
i went to class forlorn yet all smiles, thanking everyone who greeted me.
and then, as i was cramming for a quiz, my org mates came filing in, each of them carrying a placard. placed side by side they roughly read: "happy birthday. you may be single now, but remember that we'll always be here, single with you."
i was never alone after all.
i have bruises on my face, on my arms, on my back. it's a good thing my skin is dark, because the bruises don't show. they simply hurt. just like my broken heart. just like my pride.
they all ask me where they come from. some kind of fetish, they joke. i tell them i don't know, because for the life of me, i can't remember. or so i say.
i'm sure the one on my elbow is from when i bashed myself on the comfort room's door, because i was too sleepy to pay attention.
on my jaw is from when he bit me. it hurt badly, but i'll let him do it again if he wants to, because i'm stupid like that.
the one on my back? i'm not sure, but i think that's from when he pushed me down on the grass. the bruise on my wrist is there because he grabbed me.
oh, these wounds? they're just scratches. there are a lot of them, but i can always say i got them from the cat. it's nothing sinister. i cut myself on the grass, that night when everything went wrong.
and she told me, "anyway, i think he's responsible enough. and he cares for you."
i wanted to cry.
and scream, "no, NO,
he doesn't." because men are pigs and they follow their pointers through life. because men let their libidos guide them. it doesn't matter how smart they are, how sweet, how cool. because the truth is they all want one thing, that one thing that every single woman in the whole world carries in between her legs.
and once he takes that from me, who's to say he'll stick around? didn't he tell you no strings attached?
i'm tired. i've been so so tired lately, because i am always out and about. i only go home to sleep. i don't even eat here anymore. why? am i that busy?
no. i am not.
i feel busy, yet i feel so bored. what do i do out? nothing really. sometimes i play sports. sometimes i take exams. but mostly i do nothing but sit and stare.
what's wrong with me?
i'm dead tired because i only get about two hours of sleep each night, and yet i waste my time sitting in front of the computer playing minesweeper.
i wish for a lot of impossible things right now.
i wish i could go back in time, back to the very beginning of this mess and finally know what the right thing to do is.
i wish i weren't so cautious, so obsessive about being right so I didn't have to take this long to make a decision. all choices were wrong anyway.
i wish i didn't try to lie to myself all the time, and i wish i didn't believe myself when i did.
mostly though, i wish that i were dead. that's not so impossible is it?
whenever an apology's made, it isn't always enough to erase all the past in a moment.
what then, are apologies for? even if you say your sorry, even if you are? what does it do? saying you're sorry doesn't bring anything back.how do you take back hurtful words? how do you repair an injury? how do you apologize for murder? an apology won't do that.
apologies are simply people's way of making themselves feel better. and it's only good manners to accept them, to say it's alright, even when you know it's not. even when it never will be.
you know your heart is really mourning when you're crying even in your dreams.
and now i wake up to another day with puffy eyes and a grim sense of hopelessness that nothing will ever be the same again. i guess that's how it is when you lose the love of your life and your pillar of support in one fell swoop.
i want to stay in bed and cry my heart out again, but i already did that all day and all night yesterday. and it's starting to seem like one can really run out of tears after all.
i hate him for doing this to me. for my own good he says. because he loved me. that's BS. does he think this manic-depressive obsessive lethargy is good for me? he loves me so much he's willing to kill me slowly by breaking my heart and doing irreversible damage? don't give me that shit. don't lie to me on top of everything else.
if he really loved me he wouldn't do this, knowing how much it would hurt me.
i know beind his noble reasoning is his selfish reasons, and i hate myself for thinking this about him.
it's funny what pictures can do.
last week was my birthday, and the pictures gave me a jolt. it was a picture of us last week. just last week, and already it feels like last year. because if you look at us now, you wouldn't know how close we used to be.
last week, we were happy. last week we were friends. last week we were more than friends. last week i can look forward to our conversations, to his tenderness, to our sweet little escapades.
this week, he won't even look at me. time flies when you're having fun.
could go back. i wish i could. if i could go back i wouldn't change so much. just that one thing.
i wouldn't have told you the truth.
because that's it, isn't it? that's where it all started. rather, that's where it ended, my happiness.
is it so wrong to live a lie when you're happy to live it? i look back and wonder if it was really only a week ago. i feel like i've endured a year's worth of heartache.
i guess this really is the end. because i'll make sure of it.
"nasa huli ang pagsisisi." translation: "regrets come in the end.
of course it's true. regrets come in the end simply because there isn't anything to regret yet at the beginning. nothing's even happened yet.
is this the end then? because i'm regretting so much.
i regret not grabbing the opportunities as they came.
i regret not being honest with myself and with him.
i regret not doing my best, not going all the way, for as long as i could. while i still could.
i regret kissing and telling. god, i regret this the most.
if only i
today is the day to take matters into your own hands. it doesn't matter if nothing would make a difference. so what if nothing can change the situation? anything is better than sitting in the corner twiddling your thumbs helplessly, and cursing your circumstances.
today i took the bull by its horns, knowing it's going to toss me aside and trample all over me. i feel better for going down swinging despite the inevitable.
forget regret, or life is yours to miss.
now i want to keep it all behind me. i'm looking forward. the wind is at my back.
The Tip Jar