"Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalms 46:10

I am what I am in the eyes of God...nothing more, nothing less.

The end should be a good one.

April Wind

It's been more than a year since I moved out and spoke to my father. I've been pretty much on my own. I have become emotionally uninterested in people other than my mother and my boyfriend. I hardly pay any attention to my friends, even though I do care for them. I mean, I'm still just here if they need anything, but until then, I'm shutting them out of my own little world. I just don't seem to need anyone else. It's been a lonely, lonely road. My body's bit by bit giving up. I have incurred so much aches and pains that it has almost completely sucked the life out of me. Sometimes I feel like killing myself would be a solution but knowing better, I know it is never a solution. Yet being stuck in this rut is comparable to death, just that I can still feel. Feel all this bitterness and anger. The feeling that I have been betrayed, and left alone in this place where alas, it has become awfully strange.

I wonder if my dad would ever come to find and get me, take me away from this hell. Or if he will let me suffer for the rest of my life, until i finally come to my last breath. It's not myself who I feel bad for, it's those I will leave behind. Those who have no one else to run to. I would gladly kill myself if I have no one else to satisfy, but that would just never come to be of truth. I've longed for family my whole life, that even for just once, my siblings and I would not be the ones to compromise. That both father and mother would actually come to realization of parental responsibility rather than living for their own life. They will forever hold influence on me no matter how much I know that whatever I decide on is supposedly supported by the choices I make myself. They have molded me in one way or another. It is unfortunately inevitable.

It is in moments like these when I am on my lone self that I get to freeze time, but rather see the cruelty of life than its beauty. Here, it is not even a matter of choice, but a continuum of what I've been getting used to. Uncle Mike suggested that I move into the city. It might be possible that the suburb is taking its toll on me, that I need much chaos to move me out of my radical thoughts. But I feel like I'm too tired of chaos now, that it is not even some sort of temporary high. Flying back to the Philippines is not even an option for me: I need a sense of growth, of total breakdown, to knock me out of my stupidity once and for all - that I cannot walk alone, that abrupt change and no transition is extremely difficult. I am afraid. Afraid that I may continue to believe that a person who lived in a life of abundance, can go off without privilege, and will be capable of living, having strength like those who have not had any kind of privilege at all. But..there is still that need to prove that money is of no real significance in this world.

Wisdom can get anyone an education.
Sometimes, the "smartest" people are the ones who have much to learn.

Beer and cigarettes.

I am once again drowing into the black abyss that men have made. I can't even write anymore. Crisis and chaos have taken away the time I have for myself to look upon my life.  Who I am to fool myself? Who I am to fool others into believing that I have the courage, still, to step up to the plate...but what now? To reveal my weakness? To reveal the fact that I am a failure? I wake up every morning afraid of life. The sheets that used to cover me can  no longer protect me from the cold. I cannot offer the protection people used to look up to me for. I cannot offer them satisfaction, or pride. I am too vulnerable to carry out emotion. I cry, at least I try, but even tears do not form in my eyes. I do not have a simple solution. I am mad at every person who has made me cut myself, for they have done nothing to stop me from bleeding. I die every single day, and from the moment I had started dying, they had not let me move on and live. They eat my flesh in daylight and let me suffer at night. Sleepless nights would be better for me perhaps than wanting to kill my emotions by making myself unconcious. It is not easy to think of what I am supposed to say anymore, and why am I even thinking? I do not know the truth. 

My father brought me up believing that he is a good man. Now, I do not know him. He is a stranger to me, a stranger who gives me enough grief to not call him one, and yet, it is hard for me to recognize him. He gave me a teddy bear when I was little; toys, chocolates, anything to please my young and innocent soul. He has never known me to this day. He cannot save me. He didn't if he knew. Why should I call him a father if he cannot protect me? From nature's deceits, and the demons inside my head. Love and money run the world, as they say about reality. Does my mother have anything to do with me? Is she keeping me for money? I cannot save her. Only she can save herself. Being older doesn't make people wise. The heart does. And the mind is its enemy.

I buy books and never read them. I look at their covers when I get the chance. I see in the eyes of the author what he/she is trying to tell others. It's not that difficult. I would look a billion times if I have to, it keeps as a reminder of what I have to do. The heart says of words untold, and words don't always tell of what the heart knows. We are not deceived by people themselves, we are deceived by what we take in, what we make ourselves believe. Lies do not make a person evil. It's evil ways, and not an evil man.

I was working on a book, but sadly never finished it. What am I to say to the world? That a man I trusted had taken away my dignity? That an old woman told me she is saving me grace? I am not shameless!  People think whatever they want to think, and although I do not care, I want people to understand, not me but what nature can bring, and how our mind is not fully in our control.

It is one of the saddest things I have ever known.