I had a fun, normal childhood. My family loved and supported me; I had a roof above my head, a food on my table, and a bed to sleep on; I went to a good school, and had good grades; I had toys I wanted; I had friends I could play jack stones with; and I had some minor disappointing moments. It was normal, and good. Despite my negative thoughts, and a few setbacks, I had an ambition. I believed in myself.
Because success feels nice.
My first vivid memory of the taste of sweet victory was when I was in second grade. Closed the school year as among the top students of the class. I felt a rush. The joy and pride it brought me. The smiles my parents gave me. The admiration from my classmates. From then on, I decided I wanted to be good in school. So I studied hard.
In fifth grade, I met the teacher that made a significant impact in my adolescent life. She's strict, but she's nurturing. She set a high standard for me, and I did not want to disappoint her. I was the class president, and I cried every time I could not keep the class quiet. I willingly swept the floors of our room the next morning when the assigned cleaners on the previous day decided to skip it. I fixed the bookshelves like she always reminded the whole class to do, but always forgot. I did the writings on the blackboard when asked for my classmates to copy. I would borrow a notebook from a friend to do mine at home. It was a series of tasks I wanted to do because I wanted to be good. Maintained my grades all the while being more active with school activities. My mother attended a number of recognition days. I had so much parchment papers with my name on it. I was happy. I was going somewhere.
The same school year, I joined my first declamation contest. I was hesitant at first. I did not want to fail. Again, my class adviser pushed me to do it. Not in a bad way. She believed in me. She trained me after class, and I practiced at home every night before I went to bed. I rehearsed it over and over. The declamation piece had two speaking characters—
God and the
devil—the good and the bad
. Part of the act was to quickly change costumes to differentiate the two. It was a real challenge. I could not achieve the turning-of-the-cape move she wanted. I cried to her, and honestly confessed I could not do it. But she shook her head, looked me in the eye, and demanded I win the competition. And I did. It was a great day. I thought I could do anything. I thought the universe could see how hard we work, and everything could get rewarded.
Yeah, but that didn't last.
In high school, I still managed to get good grades. Though I did not have the same motivation as I had when I was young, I was still among the top students in my year. I thought growing up does this to people. I just wanted to get by, get to the real world; because I genuinely believed I would be great then.
Slowly, I got a taste of life's bittersweet disappointing (and stupefying) moments. I failed to get to the university I wanted. Well, technically, I passed the entrance exam for the only university I applied to. But only for the second course of my choice. But I ditched that, unintentionally. Then, intentionally.
It was after our
Home Economics class, and we had just finished making a cake. Exhausting, but satisfying. On our way back to the classroom, my friend who was also eyeing to go to the same university asked me about my college application. I was shocked. For I forgot about it. And for how incredibly stupid I could get. When I got home, I read the letter (result of the entrance exam) from the university. Just when I thought I could not get any dumber, I did: I read it, and convinced myself I simply had to show up. Because frankly, even if I did accept I had to bring the documents, it would be too late. But I showed up. I brought my
Mommy-La (aunt of my mother) with me to accompany me to the '
University Belt'. That's what they called it, short for
U-belt--location of some of the most known universities in the country; members of the prestigious
UAAP. Then to my dream school. It was glorious. Studied in the province all my life, the university was a vision of possibilities and opportunities. Alas! No documents in hand, no official acceptance letter. Horrified. Mortified. I walked past the gates like I had been living on Earth for 80 years. A walking, almost-but-will-never-be-freshman disaster. I would never forget that feeling. I could have called them. Went back there again, this time, with the documents. I could have done so many things. But I did nothing. I did not even try. I sulked, and let it got to me. I finished college, because that was a system everyone strictly followed (and of course, education is education; get a degree, even if no one's going to hire you without work experience despite being fresh out of school). My dream was still there, but I had grown too skeptical, and too scared to try out things I actually wanted to be a part of. I detached myself bit by bit to not feel such disappointment again. I accepted defeat, without going to battle. I stopped trying. I got by.
And yes, this is starting to sound like a real, whiny depressing tale. Because it is.
Just like everyone else, I thought once you reached a certain age, you would get your life figured out. What a dream. A bullshit dream, that is. You would just get older, not always wiser. You would get your heart broken many times more than you would ever feel loved. You would lose people you thought would be in your life forever. You would learn life's most valuable lessons the hard way, and you would not always remember to use them. You would get yourself into more mazes, and would be lucky enough to get one feedback out of a hundred. You would get more responsibilities, more pressure from more people, and more bills. Adulthood would be a series of disappointments.
My first job was my dream job. At a local cable news network. Small company, little pay. But it was scary, exciting, and fulfilling in many ways. But I quit that. For a while, I felt better for leaving what I thought was hell. Got a new job far from what I wanted. Quit that, too. Another job, different kind of hell, even worse. Quit. Saved nothing. Just lost the little light that kept pushing me to get up. Spiraled into my own dismal abyss. Less optimistic. Less effort. Until I lost my dream. My ambition. Some friends. Myself. Older, uglier, and officially broke. Tried to avoid life, but got knocked down by it, anyway. Regrets joined the circus, too. Anxiety killed the life out of every possible party.
I know everything's my fault. I am, after all, the captain of my own life. But that's about the end of owning up to it. Because I let it all happen to me. I let it sink me to the bottom. And now I can't breathe, and I can't swim up for air.
If you think you will get some wisdom here or some enlightenment, there is none.
I smoke a lot more cigarettes these days. After I eat. Before I take a bath. After an anxious day, which is everyday. Before bed. And even after I wake up in the morning to pee. Of course, I drink alcohol. I'm an old person with underlying issues and low self-esteem. So a lot of night-caps. I stay up late, as always. But I still get to see the sun set, so it's not as worse as before given my track record. I could not keep my focus to read my books or quickly finish a series or a movie. I'm always distracted. But I don't do drugs. Let's be clear about that. I'm merely turning into a full-grown human disease in this forsaken country. It's hard enough to live like a functional individual, you have to deal with external factors and people in your life's issues too. Quite demanding.
Maybe, I'm too blind and anxious to see the answers. Or too impatient and lazy to figure out life's puzzles. Or too proud of a failure to even try and ask for help. Maybe, yes to all. I still want to do things, buy stuff, go places. I dream to unwind, refresh, and restart. I wish to find a new passion to pursue, a hope to hold onto, a light to see through the darkness. The war inside all of us is the biggest war we have to overcome because that's where everything starts and ends. But it's never easy. Especially if you only know what you
don't want, and not what you
do want.
The problem is me.
I know I have to get to the shore, but I don't know how to swim.
(c)
