A sick mother, I have no job to help pay for medicine and the operation (let alone save for grad school), and a father that’s apprehensive on giving help. This is pulling me down. I can’t go anywhere with this. I unfortunately have to take responsibility because I really would like to see mother live longer. It’s a disgusting thought to know that my father has abandoned his role as a loving husband, which is why I bear the responsibility. I’m jealous of friends that don’t have a two-ton anchor weighing them down. Fuck you all.
I’ll keep this short since I don’t have much drive in me. For about three months, I’ve been sending CVs, going to interviews, and taking tests. I told myself that feeling disappointed after getting a rejection letter was normal but as more rejection letters kept pouring in, a cesspool of depression began to build inside of me. It wasn’t the companies’ fault that they rejected me, and it isn’t even my fault that I was rejected. “I just wasn’t good enough.” That thought found itself in the crevices of my brain wrinkles, and it was pure poison.
This poison couldn’t be stopped. It was the truth. Doing my best wasn’t good enough, and there are an infinite (well not really) amount of people who are infinitely better than me.
I went to a job interview a week ago with high hopes of getting accepted. I got there early, an hour early. There was a 7 eleven nearby so I decided to grab myself a cup of hot water with soil and milk. Sitting there and staring out the windows with dozens of people whizzing by made me feel alone. Everyone needed to be somewhere because their work told them to do so. I was a stationary rock with an affinity for hot water with soil and milk. I threw the joe away and made my way to the office. All my confidence had mysteriously disappeared.
I saw an acquaintance from uni at the office, and my stomach began to churn. Needless to say, I got rejected. The interviewer told me upfront that I was just going to be frustrated in this workspace. I will never forget her words, “You’re so young. You’re like 24? 23? And yet you look so weathered out.” Lady, you don’t know the half of it.
At the elevator on the way out, my friend asked, “What are you going to do now?”
I drew a blank. I didn’t know what to do next. “I guess I’ll just go home then.” I said.
I was so depressed that I didn’t even hug my friend good-bye. I just waved and walked away. Each step I took to the bus station was a pang to the chest. My teeth began to grit, and my hands turned into fists. The poison had hit me hard. On the way to the train station in the bus, I broke down. I just started crying. I covered my face with my bag but everyone could hear me. The only thing I could think of was, “Why wasn’t I good enough? Why am I not good enough? WHY WHY WHY? FUCK!!”
For 20 minutes, I cried in that bus. For 20 minutes, I tried to hide my red eyes in the train. For 20 minutes, I cried at home.
There’s this girl at uni that I had the pterodactyls for. It’s like Watsky said, “She didn’t give me butterflies. She gave me pterodactyls.” She seemed so unrealistically beautiful. Each time I was near her, I was pushed down the rabbit hole and got lost in Wonderland. Curiouser and curiouser, I wanted to know about this creature. I call her Snow White. She thought she’s called that because she looks like White, but it’s the enigma that makes people flock around her. I stayed away since the dinosaurs flapped their wings harder and harder as I got closer and closer. I was afraid that I’d fly away, fly away to Wonderland and never come back.
Never in my lifetime did I think I would be good friends with White. I worked, ate, traveled, hiked, suffered, shared stories, slept (literally), smoked (just me though), partied, looked for jobs, and laughed with her. I was cloud nine.
As I got to know her better, her personality opened up or maybe she was changing. Either way, she wasn’t the White that I’ve known for years. White, as it turns out, is just like any ordinary girl–weird. She wasn’t an enigma but an introvert. Her ordinary side of her hooked me to her, and I couldn’t stay away. I imagined what it would be like dating her, holding her or at least making her happy like no one else could.
On my last two days of internship, White and I played an honesty game. I asked what makes her hate me. She hates that people care for her too much. She wants to be alone but she can’t reject people’s feelings. But she has. She’s been going through a lot and with this new knowledge of how much she hates being choked with caring, I tried to be less intrusive. Nothing really worked because she ignored my messages.
I’ve realised that I can’t like someone that pushes people away, would rather be alone, or has to understand that people care. She told me that she wants to be alone with her thoughts. That’s natural but to be left alone indefinitely is not healthy. I’ve been through the same type of loneliness and being open with friends and loved ones is the best way to get through life, not fending off life by yourself. Humans are social beings not hermits on a deserted island.
It hurt so much when White was pushing me away. I truly and genuinely did care for her. I wanted to help her in some way. And now, I have to detach my feelings for her before I get hurt even more. I’m not sure if White has trust issues, but she needs to let people into her life especially that ones that want to help her.
P.S. I’m not sure if you truly did care for me. The only thing you cared about was me getting a job or getting through a day of work and not the other personal troubles I told you about. Was this your way of showing that you didn’t care but thought it was rude to say? If it was, then you really are an asshole.
NSFW Continue reading
When I was still very young and living in England, I one day felt a tremendous amount of sadness from my mother. We were going back to the Philippines. My mother acted like someone had died. I didn’t understand what was going on. I was so confused. On the plane, my mother started crying. She looked out the window and cried silently. I looked to my father and expected that he’d explain what was going on. I was ignored like how he ignored my mother. I thought we were going on vacation, that we were going back. Fear overwhelmed me when I saw the slums of Manila. This was not a vacation. This was permanent. “Is this Hell?” I remember telling myself. That was how I knew my father was not a husband to my mother. He had forced us to go with his stupid decision, and he knew that a child and a submissive mother would not do anything about it.
These are sooooo good I had to post it here on my blog. That’s how good these are. The producer and rapper just kills it. These are quintessential Japanese Hip-Hop.
This is my last term DLSU. Yes, I am opening this blog entry with the idea of leaving. For the past months, that seems to be theme I’ve been living in. Goodbye academic world and hello working world! Please take it easy on this unemployed fresh grad with zero professional work experience. Wouldn’t that be Utopian?
Thesis and internship invaded so much of my personal life that I haven’t been able to finish three books since the start of the year. My mother’s finished four books in a month! I drowned in a sea of envy during my “thesis writing sessions” when I saw her reading on the couch whilst drinking tea. Since thesis is done, I get to read my book during breaks at the office.
Interning is giving me some rather interesting things to think about. A few days after I started, I rode a jeepney to said company, and the driver was this really jolly guy. He had friends everywhere along the route he drove. His smile revealed rotting teeth but he wasn’t afraid to show his happiness he created along that route of his. It hit me that this guy, someone who’s probably never gone through college, high school or even elementary, is happier than I am. I pretty much have everything I could ever need–opportunities for a better future. Yet this guy has found the happiness that I’ve been trying so hard to find. Sure enough, he’d be happy if he had a better paying job. But I think he’d miss the people.
Anyway, I have 3 weeks, 3 day, and 5 hours left in my internship. I hope something interesting happens.
My chest was invaded by pieces ever-expanding shards of ice. What was happening to me? I considered that a long shower would calm me down.
My invader liquefied into a thick hot stream of satin which coursed my arteries till my heart realized it was drowning in adrenalin. I felt so hot, unstable, and dizzy that the wall that protected my naked body from the outside quickly became a mother’s embrace while my shower head continued to rain on me. I tried catching my breath; I say I tried because I only got worse.
I relinquished myself to my veiled invader, not knowing what it was that made me concede. I concluded that I was longing for someone. Why? I thought. I don’t know why, but I wanted it. Of all the people I’ve been with, fell in love with, kissed with, held hands with, gazed eyes with, caught scent with, touched skins with, and shared silence with, there was only one in my mind. I had an unnatural desire to have her.
My synapses sparked for her when I had seconds for myself. This time was different; she just wouldn’t disappear from my head. Continue reading
A few months ago, I was losing my marbles when I had a week left to find a place to intern. I pulled out all the stops and used every resource I had. Then lo and behold, a friend of mine asked if I could intern at said company, and I didn’t need to go through an interview! “Can you start tomorrow?” She asked. I was extremely elated! It was as if a miracle had come and present itself on a silver platter. I didn’t care if my training in IR was useless in said company. I was in it for the “office experience” and the hours. Oh, naïve child, if you knew what I know now…
Being trained in IR makes me, at the very least, inquisitive in global affairs. No one here dares to argue about sex, politics, economics, history, philosophy, morality, ethics, and religion. The one person that does is leaving the company tomorrow! My brain is dead in said company and most people here talk about TV shows, celebrities or tragedies. I know an interesting TV show called House of Cards, but these people talk about Rhodora X (I know, don’t ask). Politics and business DO NOT match. They’re oil and water, I’d say.
If I had waited a little longer, I would be interning in ECCP.
I’m not a normal person. Without thinking, I hurt people through my actions and when I do think, people ask me why I did it anyway. I don’t know how to be normal, and I don’t know what rules society has put up. I play the guessing game. “Is this the right thing to do?” I do it. “Why did/n’t you do that?” I try to understand why things clash with me so much. But when I do, it’s already too late. I don’t realise what I’ve done until the consequences bite back. I don’t mind the pain since pain is a great way to remember things. It’s the people that’ll be at the receiving end that worries me. I’m trying to be a better person or at the very least, a normal person. I just don’t know how. All I’ve got is learning through mistakes.