Another Open Letter

Dear Bully,

How have you been? I hope you feel better now. Believe it or not, your welfare is really important to me. I know you think that I was just playing with you, but the truth is, I wasn't. Why would I when you already admitted that you transcend at this game? I know I told you I'm a bit of a masochist, but I'm not stupid. And I know that if I ever decide to play with you, I will be the loser in the end. You see, I am not denying that I was a player, because I know in my heart that I was. After all, playing was fun. However, when I first started talking to you, I was done with games. And you know I've been trying to stop being the mean and indifferent person that I was because something really bad happened to me and I don't want to continue reaping evil by sowing evil. All in all, I was done being numb. Of course I was and still am careful to not be that vulnerable and be in love, but that doesn't mean I didn't mean it when I said I care for you, because I did and I still do. And right now, I do have the option to just go back to being the very narcissistic and indifferent person that I was; I can harden my heart and just be numb again. After all, when I was not caring about anyone, I had the guarantee of not getting hurt. And hurt is what I am feeling now. Who wouldn't, eh? Who wouldn't be pained by the idea of being accused of playing just when that person has already decided to be serious? To finally give as much damn about someone else as she does about herself? To finally be willing to be a bit vulnerable, no matter how much it scares her, because she has decided that you're worth it? I'm just human, it doesn't matter how much I've trained myself to be unfeeling, because you see, with you, I took a risk.  And I don't regret having taken it, even if it means that right now, I can't really be totally happy, that each time I laugh, no matter how loud my laugh could be, I still feel a bit of sadness. I know I said I have the option to not care, but it's not really what I want, because what I really want is for you to understand that I never played with you. And that I am sorry if you felt that way. I know you are having problems, and that what you're going through is really depressing. I never wanted anything but to make you feel even just a wee bit better. I know I had little success in that area, and it just makes me feel so crappy that aside from not being able to make you smile, I actually made you feel unwanted and played. All in all, bully, I just need you to feel better. Of course, deep down in my heart, I am hoping that we can go back to how we were before. There is no doubt that I miss having sensible conversations with you. I miss laughing because of what you said. I miss smiling at the thought of you flirting a bit with me and making me feel girly and all. I even miss blushing every time you tease me and make fun of me. Guess, it just means that I really miss you, and I would really like to be friends with you again. However, that's not my major concern. Regardless of how much I miss you, I know that what I really need is to know that you are better, physically, psychologically and emotionally. That you are able to sleep properly. That you are able to realize that there are people who truly care for you, and that you feel happier with this realization. That you are no longer tired of proving yourself, because you know you don't really have to. That you are in the mood to live again, to smile again, to be happy again. If you think I don't have to be in your life anymore, it is fine with me, as long as you are happy. 

I really miss you, bully. I miss your wit. I miss your sense of humor. I miss you.

Yours,

A

Kintsukuroi

Kintsukuroi – it means “to repair with gold”. This word indicates the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

The effect of this word on my brain cells was outstanding. You know the famous saying that states how repairing something after it has been broken doesn’t really change the fact that it’s broken? Like no matter how you put the pieces back together, it won’t be the same; how once something has been broken, it will always be so. I used to wonder how people can just apply the same thing to their lives.

When I was in high school, I was friends with this certain group of girls; I still am actually. One day, something happened that made one girl friend angry to another girl friend. Then, people started taking sides. (I really hate how girls can make certain insignificant issues seem very significant, that’s why I have always preferred the company of males; nevertheless, it doesn’t mean I don’t befriend people of the same gender as me.) Being the not-that-much-of-a-girl person, I did not take sides. I had to hang out with only one group of course, but I was still able to talk to the other group. And since I was sort of a middle-man or woman, I tried to convince both sides to become friends again. To just put the issue behind and make peace with each other. One response I got was that when something has been broken, you cannot just put it back together and expect no change in it at all. That response has been difficult for me to forget; not because I totally agreed with it, but because I just couldn’t accept it. I was 16 then, maybe 15. However, even then, I had an inkling that’s not how things should be. Maybe there is some truth in it, but I just can’t totally accept it. And you know what happened to my high school girl friends, anyway? They became friends again. Surprise! Surprise! Peace was restored in the classroom eventually. And now, when we look back to what happened years ago, we just laugh it off.

Anyway, my point is that being broken does not always result to ugliness or negative change. I actually believe that being broken allows something or even someone to be more beautiful. Didn’t Bob Dylan once sing that “behind every beautiful thing, there’s been some kind of pain”?

I, myself, have been broken. Many times, as a matter of fact. I mean, hello, shit happens. People will hurt you, intentionally or not. Bad things happen even to good people; not that I am saying that I am good. Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean I have to be broken or be in pain for the rest of my life, right? And just like how broken pottery can be repaired with gold, broken people can also be repaired. By what, you ask? By love, of course. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s true. I am being constantly repaired by the love I get from God, by the love of my family and friends. Sure there were times when giving up seemed to appeal so much, like how ending things once and for all seemed to be the only answer, but you see, no matter how much the demons in my head convince me that suicide is a good solution, at the end of the day, I know I will still regret doing it. Because life is still too beautiful to miss. Because the people around me still make life worth living. Because there are still too many food to taste, too many corny jokes to laugh at, too many wonderful places to visit. I am not saying that I shall never have suicidal tendencies again, I mean, my life is not perfect, and I don’t expect it to be. However, I know I always have people to count on, and I know there are still people who love me because of who I am and despite of who I am. Knowing that they do and holding on to the fact that they do will always save me. Cause they are my gold and silver. They are what make my life beautiful.

2AM Rants

Well it's two in the morning and I can't sleep. I already tried a bit of studying, but my brain can just absorb a certain amount of information about bacteria before it starts going haywire. So yeah. Here I am, writing again. Or ranting again. Whatever you wanna call it.

You see, as I was browsing through Facebook last Tuesday or Wednesday, I saw a quote saying, "Eventually, you have to forgive yourself for the mistakes you've made." Obviously, it struck me. I wouldn't be writing about it if it didn't, would I? Anyway, I just pondered on how true the quote was. I don't even know its origin, maybe it has one, maybe it doesn't. Nonetheless, it is true and I have been greatly affected by it.

As people who actually waste their time on reading this sad excuse for a blog know, I am a Christian. I know I also am a sad excuse for a Christian, but I did accept Jesus as my savior, and I do believe in God. Anyway, the point of me reminding you of my beliefs is that as I was praying tonight or last Friday night ('tis already Saturday in my time), I asked God why it is so easy for Him to forgive me for my sins when I, myself, find it really difficult to get over the wrong things I have committed. His answer came clearly and quickly (Call me crazy if you want; it's true anyway, I am crazy for God.) In fact, His response was a song. His answer was one of the songs I learned at the Musical Ministry in my college. It is a local song and it goes like this, "Paanong di kita ibigin? Paanong di ka patawarin? Bago man isilang sa lupa, ika'y akin  nang inaruga..." It translates to "How can I not love you? How can I not forgive you? Even before you were born, I already cared for you." If I'm not mistaken, the lyrics of the song "Pagbabalik" by Fr. Manoling Francisco, SJ, originated from the Scriptures (in the Book of Jeremiah, I think). And it is through the Scriptures that God talks to us. We talk to Him through prayers. He talks to us through the Scriptures.

On the whole, we are humans. Some seem to be aliens (Hello, Dr. Sheldon Cooper; hullo, Mr. Bean) but the bottom line is, we make mistakes. There are times when we make bad choices, it doesn't mean we are bad, it just means we are not perfect. And being not perfect is fine. Making mistakes is normal. Sure it is hard to forgive ourselves, but eventually, we have to do it. We have to let go of the negative things that happened in the past. We have to move on from our previous mistakes. I'm not saying we should forget them; actually, we should remember the lessons we learned from them. Thus, what I'm saying is we should forget all the negativity that comes with our past mistakes. Even God loves us enough to forget all our sins and welcome us into His kingdom. Why should we let something that happened when we weren't as mature as we are now haunt us? Why should we exchange happiness and peace of mind for something that we cannot change? Of course, we can't change the past. But we can live in the present. And we should live in the present.

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 Approximately 8 days and 21 hours or so... That's how long I've been in this building, not once going out. I've only been out of the room 3 times. First to transfer to my mom's room, who is now the one wearing the hospital gown, second to let the guard downstairs cut my patient tag, and third was yesterday evening, when I went to the canteen to choose dinner with my dad. Hence, it can be said that I've been out of the room, but not outside. Haven't even had the sun shine on my skin. I kinda miss it actually. Like how I miss the feel of the road against my feet or slippers or shoes. Well, the thing is, this post is about how being confined inside the 4 walls of a hospital room is driving me mental. Yeah, I know it is evident that even before today, I have been crazy to some extent. However, I still felt bit normal then. Now, my normality is down to just about 10%. Inside this room is so cold but outside is just too damn hot. I get dizzy when I stand up for a long time and I would rather lie on my stomach than sit. Not to mention that I haven't fully recovered from amebiasis and my tummy aches worse than it did when I was still diarrheic. It may seemed like I'm complaining too much, but I'm not. Okay, maybe I am.  Please try to understand, though. This is my only outlet. Well, not really the only outlet, it's just one of my less crazy outlets. I mean I don't have my sketch book so I can't draw even if I want to. I can't listen to music cause my memory card decided to fuck up. I can't exercise. Man, I miss how running and stretching can hurt so good. And all these unavailable things are making me nuts. One night, I dreamt of listening to Foo Fighters and Sevendust. The next night, I dreamt of exercising to my work-out jam. Therefore, I have to write. I can't sing my heart out here cause I might or I would disturb the patient next door if I do so. I can't drink coffee cause my parents are here and coffee's not good for my gall bladder. Damn, I can't even starve myself given that mama and daddy are here and they keep insisting that I eat. They think I'm actually losing weight whereas I feel like I am gaining pounds. I even overheard them talking about how it's a pity that I'm losing weight when they thought I was still sleeping. To top it all, the only person I wanna talk to doesn't even seem to want to talk to me. And I do care deeply for that individual but I don't think he feels the same. He probably got too much on his plate and too many girls at his disposal so I don't even mean a thing to him. It sucks, you know. This feeling. And maybe me wallowing on self pity and insecurity is just me having premenstrual syndrome. Man, I hate this crap. I miss the good old days when I didn't have any syndrome. Pre or post. I miss just feeling crap during my period. Oh well, I think I should just go back to being indifferent and selfish. I can do that. The question is, do I want to? I shan't dwell on that question now. Right now, I should just try to go outside first.