And So It Goes...

Ever wonder why some people always want to be around other people? I blame advertising and marketing for that. That made sure that when we here the word "alone" we would automatically assume that "loneliness" follows. One would disagree. After all, I'm a self proclaimed loner.

 

"I'm alone but I'm not lonely. I'm alone because I choose to be. I'm a loner."

 

Pretty cool line don't you think? Sounds like something a rock star or a cowboy would say. I've been saying that to a lot of people who misconstrued my lonesomeness to being lonely. I know lonely. I'm not lonely.

 

My brother and I were raised as sheltered kids. We're not allowed to go outside and play.  I did have fun with my little brother. After all, we only had each other to play with. I don't even remember making friends while in school. My mom always said that the neighborhood kids are bad people and we should not associate ourselves with them. If the neighborhood kids were bad, what more were these kids that live farther away, right? So I decided to keep to myself.

 

I met my first friend when I was 12 years old. A real boy I can play with that had the same interests that I do. Or so I thought. He's much more like my little brother. They both like music and art, I'm more into logic and puzzles. They're both into fun and games, I'm more into serious and adult stuff. I thought if I acted like an adult, I'll be treated more seriously and with respect. All I got was jeers and people not wanting to be my friend because I'm too serious. As my aunts and uncles put it, "the adult little boy".

 

I embraced being alone. I learned to love it, cherish it, accept it. I've decided that from that day onward, I will be alone but never lonely. I was 15.

 

Then I grew up. I hate growing up. Argh! Why do I have to grow up!?

 

I've met a lot of people. Some great, some, not so great. People with different personalities and different views in life. Some of them were loners too! And so begins a life, my life, with friends or as I would like to call it "the journey to not being alone".

 

And like how I embraced my lonesomeness, I welcome the warmth of companionship with open arms. I allowed myself to actually care for other people. I even loved, and continuous to love, some of them. As the song goes, I was just minding my own world without knowing what life and love is all about, and then they came, they took me out of my shelf, they brought the world to me, and without knowing, there I was so in love with them.

 

Oh if only the real world is like that. But it's not. Relationship ends. Hearts are broken. Pain. Suffering. Despair. Loneliness.

 

In all my years of being alone and then having someone to have dinner with, the most lonely, saddest part of my day, is eating alone. It's never the same...

"is it's so much easier to say you're antisocial, or claim that you just don't like people, or pretend that you just don't care anymore, than to admit how lonely and damaged you truly feel."

 

So we found ways to fill the gap. I turned to blogging and other social media platform. Sometimes I wished that the internet were available during my younger days. But then again, I would have written some really bad shit so I guess it's better this way.

 

 

 

P.S.

Here's a funny thought. All I ever wanted to write about today is why I decided to stop being part of the forum Pinoy Exchange. I guess I'll just write about that tomorrow :)

Almost

I went to his house today, like I did everyday for the past two years, so we can spend a little time together as we go to the office. It's usually marked with the usual pleasantries and temperature check on how things are and what's going on with each other's life. It's a great way to start each day.

Today was a little different. Today, we almost broke up. Almost.

There was an incident earlier. And it's not to say that it never happened before. I guess, it's my fault that I've decided to not get used to it by now. And no, it's not that big of a deal, but there's just something about tonight that I decided to not let things go. That's my fault too, I guess.

We took a cab together, but we didn't utter a single word to each other. When we arrived to our destination, he asked if I wanted to eat dinner. I agreed. Only to find out that I was the only one that's going to eat.

In all my years of experience and in all my relationships, the thirty minutes that we sat there, not talking to each other, as I finish my food, was the longest, most saddest time in the history of my relationships. It was simply too much.

We walked towards his office building in silence. No one seems to give in. No one seems to be the first one to say something.

When we reached the door, no words, just a kiss, he then walked towards the elevator. He didn't look back. He just kept on walking, and when the elevator arrived, he went in without glancing back...

Is this it? Is this how it all end? I got to say, it's pretty romantic. Like the one in the movies. No goodbyes, no tears, no drama, just a kiss. And that was all.

And So We Try

I'm taking a break, probably a sabbatical, from sharing sad stories of my past. I was told I was bringing everyone down. Before, when I write sad stories, people were happy because then can find life lessons in them. Now, it's just sad. And so I will stop.

 

I've been churning out posts day after day, quite recently. I do not know where the motivation came from but it's certainly helping in managing my anger issues. Writing relaxes me. It soothes my mind. And so I will write.

 

I wanted to write something funny. But from I've been told again and again, forcing yourself to be funny doesn't result to humor. For some reason, the people you're trying to impress with your sense of humor could tell that your jokes are forced. So try as I may, I'm not a funny guy. And so I won't force it.

 

I would like to believe that I'm good in writing something inspiring, albeit serious, articles. It doesn't attract much readership like the funny ones but to those that do read them, I hope that I can touch their lives with some of mine and in return, I could be touched by theirs through their comments and suggestions. An exchange of ideas and experience that transcend the boundaries of space and time. And so it shall.

 

I want to say that I aspire to live, not to exist. That I aspire to make a difference, not be a bystander. Or that I aspire to be someone, not no one. Maybe should say I aspire to achieve, not to fail. Or like everyone, I can say I aspire to be great. there's all good and noble aspirations. But in reality, all I aspire is to be a better version of myself. And so I hope.

 

I've experienced existing instead of living. I've experienced living too. Living is better. I've tried to make a difference, or so I hope I did. I've been a bystander too, but that didn't end well for me. I was someone before and now I'm no one. Both have their advantages and disadvantages. My achievements in this life were because of my not-so-few enormous failures. I just kept getting up. And when I do not want to get up anymore, someone comes along to pick me up. Thinking about them makes me teary eyed. All those hopes and chances and opportunities that they helped with and gave me. And so I'm thankful.

 

I've written so many times how I hate myself for who I am and what I've done. I've been ask countless times why I can't forgive myself and try to move on. I wish that I can. I wish that I could. But that's neither here nor there. Because right now, what's important, for me at least, is that even though I can't find a way to forgive myself or find absolution for my past sins, is that I learn from my mistakes and try not to repeat the horrible things I did before. Because my doing so, though we can't change who we are, we can influence those who came after us, how to really live and aspire.

 

And so we should try. Try to aspire to live. To live to make a difference. A difference that inspires. An inspiration to give it a try.

 

Because sometimes, trying, makes all the difference.

Of Angst and Anger

Angst

noun \ˈäŋ(k)st, ˈaŋ(k)st\

:  a feeling of anxiety, apprehension, or insecurity

- Merriam-Webster

 

I first encountered this word when I was about to alight the MRT. Some teenage girls were blocking my way so I said "excuse me" in my usual authoritative voice. They parted and let me through. When I had my back on them, one of them said to another, in a voice loud enough to be overheard: "ang daming angst lang".

 

Kids and their new word. Probably heard or read it somewhere. I smiled to myself as I walk away. I didn't know the meaning of the word but I can still remember the feeling I felt as I associated the word with anger. During those days, I can remember that I was always full of anger. I had no idea why but I'm basically angry about anything and everything. But upon hearing that word, it made me realize that I need to keep my temper in check and not to let it be evident in the way I speak. I tried and failed. Not more than a month passed after the MRT incident, as I was about to get off the elevator at work, a coworker said to me "wag ka masyado ma-angst". I was dumbfounded.

 

Yes, I could have said "excuse me" in a much more nicer way. I could have kept my mouth shut as someone tries to get past the line. Or I could speak out about anything and everything but without the angst in them (I'm using the word Angst here even though what I really mean is Anger because during the time, I really thought they are one and the same)

 

Ever since that fateful second incident, I was able to keep myself in check. I was able to learn how to control my voice and to keep my mouth shut. I was able to speak only after thinking it through. And I was able to communicate my disgust without the "angst". That's until 2 days ago.

 

 

Angry

adjective an·gry \ˈaŋ-grē\

 

: filled with anger : having a strong feeling of being upset or annoyed

: showing anger

: seeming to show anger : threatening or menacing

 

- Merriam-Webter

 

 

In the past couple of days, I've seen and heard myself becoming angry at the slightest provocation. Gone were the days of diplomacy and words of caution. The silvertongue that I've been using is now a thing of the past. Thinking about it makes me angry. Either I'm turning to The Hulk without the Gamma radiation or I'm just one sad individual who's lashing out to the world again, like in my teenage years. Ugh, how I hate myself.

 

As I write this, I'm trying to think back to the day that I lost my diplomatic touch. But as of right now, I really don't know. I really can't remember. I mean, it could be when boyfie stopped me from ranting whenever I'm with him, keeping my emotions bottled up. Or it could be when I got the rejection notice from a company I was trying to join and started plotting how I can get back at them. Or it could be the sad stories of people close to me and the inevitable feeling of being unable to help them. Or it could be the little things that I tend to ignore, piling up until they're too heavy to carry. It could be any one of these or none of these at all. I really don't know. I wish I can say that I don't really care. But this time, I do care. Maybe that's the reason behind the anger. Caring.

 

I've allowed myself to care for people. Something that I've tried to avoid for a very long time. I've even learned not to care for the fate of my own family. I don't even care for myself. Because having someone to care for, to love, who cares for you and loves you in return, it affects you, it changes you. It makes you want to protect them, even angry at yourself for not being able to. Anger that can make you lash out from time to time. Because caring, loving, it gives you a reason to lower down your defenses, show your true self, and even share a part of you with them. That's very dangerous. It's very risky. It's also very worth it.

 

 

Irony Much?

Writing is hard. This is the fifth draft that I made tonight. I deleted the first four because I hate the fact that they contain nothing but blah, blah, blah, me, me, me.

 

When I write, or at least try to write, I follow the "Forrester Way" of writing that I got from the movie Finding Forrester.

 

                "No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart.

                You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think!"

- William Forrester -

 

And so I hack and peck the keyboard, typing continuously, letting the information flow. Then come back, read the draft from top to bottom, and relentlessly correct and edit each part. Tiring work but it's very effective.

 

Today, I will stray from that path and just say what I want to write about. Instead of writing stories and try to relate it in some convoluted way to what point I'm trying to get across, as if to appear mysterious and knowledgeable, I will say it plain and simple. I want to write why I am not a happy person.

 

I am not happy because I choose not to be happy. Like everything in this world, being happy is also a choice. I just choose not to be. Don't I think I deserve to be happy? I have to admit, there are those days that I thought I should be... that I could. Only to realize that I mustn't. Someone like me doesn't deserve to be happy. I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be miserable. I deserve to die.

 

But of course, nobody wants to be around all that negativity. Couple that with my need for human interaction from time to time, I've learned to put on a mask. A façade, if you will. I became someone else. Someone optimistic and with a sense of humor. Someone who laughs and has a smiling eyes. Someone who I taught people would like. Pathetic little me.

 

Now don't get me wrong. I do not write these things to get self pity. Take your pity and give it to someone else worth it. I do not need pity. I do not want it. But I do need some answers...

 

Writing these words made me wonder. Why, after more than 20 years of putting on the mask, did I decide to "out" myself? Why did I leave myself vulnerable and allowed people to glean the person behind the mask? I do not know the answers. First, I thought it was because I was being careless. Then I thought my mask is full of cranks and chinks that people are seeing through it already so there's no use to hide behind it. I really don't know. All I know is that lately, I've open up myself to this blog and to a few people. Very uncharacteristic of me. I shared too much information about myself in the last month than I shared in the last two years. What's happening to me?

The Dark Ages

Iba talaga nagagawa ng sobrang free time, lalo na sa work. Nakatungaga sa harapan ng computer, nagpapatay ng oras. Sobrang sayang sa talento ang trabaho ko ngayon pero magaan at maluwag ang mga Gawain. Kaya kahit wala pa sa kalahati ng sinasahod ko dati ang kinikita ko buwanan, pwede na. Ang importante lang naman sa akin, may hanapbuhay akong matatawag at may pera akong naiuuwi sa bahay. Nakaktawag. Parang wala akong pangarap sa buhay kung titingnan ang buhay ko ngayon. Marahil dahil naranasan ko na halos lahat ng gusto ko maranasan. Halos lahat. May iilan pa siguro akong gusto maranas bago ako pumanaw. Pero yung mga yun ay mga pawang luho na lamang. Kaya siguro hindi ko na din sila iniisip masyado.

 

Gusto ko umakyat ulit ng bundok. Medyo matagal tagal na din ng huli akong nakaakyat. Hindi na masyado kaya ng katawan ko ngayon. Marami ng iniinda. Gusto ko tumakbo ulit sa marathon. Pero kagaya ng una, hindi na din kaya. Gusto ko maranasan ang sky diving. Masyadong mahal at sobrang luho na sya sa buhay kaya hindi ko na lang iniisip. Gusto ko din subukan ang gun range at archery range. Pero kagaya ng sky diving, sobrang luho ang tingin ko sa kanila kaya tama ng manatili silang pangarap.

 

Naalala ko bigla yung panahon na kaya ko gawin lahat ng gusto ko. May sobra sobra akong pera at lakas ng katawan para gawin ang gusto ko. Sa sobrang tiwala ko sa sarili at sa katigasan ng ulo ko, pinagpilitan kong gawin ang mga gusto kong gawin kesa sa mga kailangan kong gawin. Nalulong ako sa sugal at sa panglalalake. Hangang sa naubos lahat. Hangang sa nawalang lahat. Nasa isip ko noon, madali lang kumita ng pera at dapat habang bata, magpakasaya ako. Hindi ko naisip na dapat pala, habang bata, dapat mag impok ako. Para pagtanda, doon ako mageenjoy. Dahil pagtanda, doon ako maraming oras. Sabi nga nila, nasa huli ang pagsisisi.

 

Pagsisisi. Ah, yan siguro ang dahilan kung bakit hangang ngayon hindi ko mapatawad sarili ko sa mga kasalanan nagawa ko sa ibang tao. Yung mga kasalanan ko kasi sa sarili ko hindi ko na iniisip. Pero yung sakit na nagawa ko sa iba, yun siguro ang hinding hindi ko kayang bigyan patawad ang sarili ko. Biruin mo, tumagal ang relasyon ko noon sa ka-live in ko ng mahigit tatlong taon na umaasa lang ako sa kanya. Sya ang bumubuhay sa aming dalawa. Alam kong nahihirapan na sya, alam kong nasasaktan na sya, pero wala akong ginawa. Ilang beses nya ko binigyan ng pagkakataon para bumangon pero binalewala ko lang lahat. Nagpalipat lipat akong trabaho kasi gusto ko "big time" ako ulit agad-agad. Pero ang pinakamasakit na ginawa ko sa kanya, alam kong hindi ko na sya mahal pero pinatagal ko ang relasyon namin. Masyado na kasi akong naging kumportable na kasama sya sa buhay na hindi ko na inisip ang sarili nyang kaligayahan. Iniisip ko na lang noon, maligaya naman sya sa akin kaya ayos na yun. Alam kong niloloko ko lang ang sarili ko pero parang mas mabuti na yun kesa iwan sya at lalong mawalan ako ng tutulong sa akin.

 

Bukod sa kanya, ilang kaibigan din ang niloko ko. Isa sa kanila ang kaibigan kong blogger na taga Saudi. Naikwento ko sa kanya ang problema namin sa pera ng kinakasama ko noon. Nagpasya syang tumulong dahil mukha naman daw akong mabuting tao. Kahit masakit sa loob ko, tinangap ko ang paunang tulong nya. Pero ng maubos ko yun sa sugal, kung ano anong dahilan ang inimbento ko para lang makahu ng pera sa kanya. Halos buwan buwan nagpapadala sya ng pera sa akin. At tuwing magpapadala sya, pinapatalo ko lang sa sugal. Puro ako pangako sa sarili ko at sa kanya na babayaran ko sya, na may inaantay lang akong "deal" na matapos at magkakapera ako ng malaki. Alam ko naman na pangloloko yun pero tinuloy tuloy ko lang. Nasa isip ko noon, kung mananalo ako ng malaki sa sugal, tapos lahat ng problema ko. Kaso, hindi nangyari. Huli na ng matangap ko na talagang walang nananalo sa sugal. Umabot sa mahigit tatlong daang libo ang nakuha ko sa kanya na sana'y pampagawa nya ng bahay ng magulang nya. Napakawala kong kwentang tao. At kung tatanungin mo ngayon kung nakakabawas ba ako kahit paunti unti sa mga utang ko sa kanya? Syempre 'hindi' ang sagot ko. Hindi lang dahil ayaw na nya ko makausap at makita. Hindi ko din naman sya kayang bayaran sa ngayon kahit paunti unti. Dahil sa ngayon, yung ibang taong pinagkunan ko ng malaking halaga noon ang inuuna ko bayaran. Yan ay kung may natitira sa sinasahod ko pagkatapos ko gumastos ng parang walang utang.

 

Gusto ko bang magbago? Syempre gusto. Pero naniniwala kasi ako na walang taong tunay na nagbabago. Maari tayong magkunwari na nagbago, mag adjust, mag adopt, sa kung ano mang sitwasyon natin sa buhay, kagaya ng ginagawa ko araw-araw. Pero sa paglubog ng araw at sa pagharap natin sa salamin, alam natin na ang mukhang nakikita natin ay isang hayop, isang halimaw, na aksaya lang sa espasyo sa mundo at dapat ng mamatay. Siguro, kapag namatay ako, baka sakali, mabawasan ang galit ng mga taong nasaktan ko sa akin.

Of Dreams and Reality

A new born baby, touching a man's face for the first time, and knowing that that man is his father.

 

A kid, sitting alone in the corner, looking longingly out the window, watching the other kids play.

 

A young boy, playing by himself, while all the others are laughing and running, because no one wants to play with him.

 

A student, passing a project with just his name on it, his classmates jeering and pointing, saying crude words of selfishness and disgust.

 

A young man behind bars, determined not to show his fears to the big angry man that took his shoes away.

 

Fear. Loneliness. Dread. Anger. Grief.

 

A picture of a brain, glowing. A voice, saying a radioactive 7 isotope was the key to reveal our oldest memories.

 

 

I woke up drenched in sweat.

 

What a weird dream.

Random Ramblings #3

As much as we want to be connected with others, we have to realize that there will always be a part of us and a part of them that will never connect, that will never interact. We each have our reasons, we each have our own standards. We call them doors that can't be opened, rooms that can't be entered, areas not to be explored. We call them secrets and taboos.

 

I came to understand that we will all love more than one person in our lives. Most of them will be the platonic kind and few will be the romantic kind. Some will even dare say that you will only really love one person. Your one true love. Wouldn't that be nice. But experience thought me that there will be a few "the one" and a lot more people that we will give all the love we have. It's not because we have so much love to give or we think that this person is "the one". We give them all our love because we hope against hope that maybe, just maybe, the person we are loving is the person that will love us back the way we think we deserved to be loved.

 

Ha, love. What a very powerful feeling. But even love is not enough to open all the doors that we have locked away from people. Even love is not enough to give them access to all the off limit areas that we have. Sure, we might unlock some doors, open some areas, and even dig through some old memories we tried to buried a long time ago. But we can never be truly honest, truly open, because we ourselves, can't to ourselves.

 

I wish I knew why. I really wish I knew how. But I don't know the answer. I'm just rambling because I don't want to talk about something I really want to talk about. It's paradoxical oxymoronic comment but I don't know how else to put it. I don't know how else to say it.

 

I do not want to share my problems and angst to anyone because that's my burden to bare and besides, everyone else's carrying their own burdens. Why should I pile on to theirs? I would rather take what they have and help them carry it. Superman complex, that maybe but I guess it's something else for me. There's power in information. Power that I would like to hold someday.

 

And as for the thing that I want to talk about but doesn't want to talk about, here's something that's close to what I have in mind... 

 

"there comes a point when you have to realize that you'll never be good enough for some people. the question is, is that your problem or theirs?"