ang-paborito

[ang-paborito]

The Talk

I wanted to talk about my own assault but I never talk about it to anyone. Not just anyone. But I always talk about sexual assaults--the dynamics, the effects, the system.

I grew up learning about it through my dad. I know his work but he never tell me in details because I'm a kid but I observed it. He lets me play with the victims usually.

My mother insensitively pointed out that it's like playing with broken dolls.

Is someone really broken because someone broke them? Am I broken because I was forcibly touched?

I don't feel broken at all. In fact, I felt all these years I built up again.

In science, welewen that every cell of our bodies die and replaced and every 7 years we become different person.

I felt like I have an obligation as a survivor with forced resilience to help girls stand up again and be unbroken.

I mentioned that I survived through privilege not through resilience. Without familial connections, money-- I would have killed myself.

The proceedings finished when I turned 14 in and my attackers are now behind bars.

Do you notice how I choose my words?

Instead of saying "r***" I say attack or assault or r***** I say attackers. I would say pigs but pigs are way too cute to be equated in such derogatory placement.

I couldn't say "I was r-d." I would say I was attacked. Or in TAGALOG terms, "Napagtripan" "Nakursunadahan."

My sister, Julie, told me to never cover my words. Just say the direct words. But I can't and it's not the shame. My family told me not to be ashamed but it's not the shame. It's because my body rejects it. I'm in denial that things can happen to me.

I felt up all those feelings--disgust, anger, and pity. There is shame, self blame

My father couldn't even look at me but I saw him cry. When the judge declared their verdict, he cried in tears. He didn't hug me but he said sorry.

He was so sorry and he repeated it over and over again. He said is his fault.

He was very disappointed in himself. What greater insult to a man is that the monsters he is fighting would ruin his own home.

Imagine being a firefighter and your family dies in a fire.

He kept blaming himself because he is supposed to drive me back to Baguio. He didn't like the drive because its tiring him already.

He took me in front of the church where we waited for a bus. My mother hated those colorum buses or any other b class buses that are not GL or Victory.

She always told me GL is the safest. (I thought she was biased becaue the Lizardos and her has history).

So dad spotted the first bus and made me took it and I had to commute instead. The commute was easy. Hope in the bus going to Villasis, then wait for another bus bound to Baguio.

I should have missed the bus. You know how you said before that if you missed the bus, you are meant to miss it.

Am I meant to have caught the bus in time? Or was the people who missed are just lucky?

I had a classmate who is older slightly older but she has to drop out to help her mother in Mindoro.

I told my mom about this and she thinks it's a good idea to practically adopt another girl. She's Evelyn

[ang-paborito]

Chapter 16

Simula noong pinanganak ko si Fierro, hindi na kami nagsesex ni Apollo. Lagi syang pagod. Sabagay ganun din Ako. I took a year off. Yung mga anak niya, palipat lipat pero si Elio nakalagi doon. Inaayos na ni Apollo ang paghahatian ng naipundar nilang mag-asawa para sa apat na anak nila. 35 na ako. 20 years nung makilala ko si Apollo. Si Prima ay nasa high school na. Graduate na ang tatlo pero ibang buhay na ang kaharap ni Apollo.

Wala naman siyang reklamo dahil feeling binata pa daw. Singkwenta anyos na sya. Kasi parang wala na masyado sa akin ang atensyon which is okay lang dahil lagi niya kalaro si Fierro at pinagtutuunan nya yung bahay. Kaya naman nabobored na rin ako. Nakalimutan nya atang asawa nya ako. I try to initiate it pero I get turned down. Pagod or too sleepy. Minsan blowjob at pagkain lang ng puke ko, doon na natatapos.

"Pasensya ka na. Pagod lang ako." Bulong nya sakin at yumakap sa likod. Hinimas nya suso ko kahit may lumalabas na gatas.

Mamaya, yung kamay nya inaakyat na hem ng nightie ko. Inamoy amoy nya leeg. "Ambango mo mahal."

Medyo may gigil ang paghimas at pag-amoy niya. Hinimas nya rin ang pepe ko na may balot pa na panty.

"Hmmm.. pagod pala ha?"

Umungol pa ako ng malalim para nalibugan sya. Lumikod kamay ko at hinablot ang titi niya.

"Ohh fuck, Apollo. Tumitigas ka na~ Oooohhhh!"

He slipped his hands under my panty and I slid mine as well. His fleshy dick is getting hard and he moans.

His hands still gripping on my breasts and his mouth nibbling against my neck.

Napagiling ako sa pagkalikot nya ng aking hiyas.

"Ooohh~" kinalikot kalikot nya ng mabilis basically rubbing my clit. My legs kepts moving and until I felt something in my core tightening then I felt my pussy tremble until I came. I felt my nipple, lips and neck more itchy.

Pinaharap nya ako at nagpatuloy kami ng mainit na halikan. Halos magtagas na mga laway namin.

Napayakap ako ng mahigpit sa asawa ko tapos tinanggal na nya panty ko.

"O Akala ko pagod ka."

"Hindi pa ako pagod na gusto."

He made me lie down then he started to climb on top of me, kiss me then nibble my neck, then his mouth sucked my nipples and pulling them while he is massaging my breasts. I kept grinding around him. He then snaked down and sucked my inner thighs making me wet, hungry and wanting for more. Then his tongue slids up and down my pussy. His tongue playing around my clit like cherry. He ate me good trying to insert his tongue into my hole. I kept grinding on his face on his nose until I squirted again.

"Ahh~~ahhHH! Shit baby Ang sarap~~"

Habang nasa rurok pa ako ng kasarapan pinasok na nya ang finger nya.

"ohhh~~~ fuuuuck! Baby!"

Umabot ng ilang minutong ganun.

"Ako naman~~" Sabi ko after ako labasan, hindi sya pumayag. Inipit nya mga braso ko sa taas ng ulo ko at sinimulang bayuin ang gutom kong puke.

"Aroused na aroused ka na~~hmmp!"

Binilis-bilisan nya ang pag-ulos at pagbayo habang sarap na sarap Ako.

"Oh shit! Putangina~~ diyan, baby, ahhh!" Napasigaw ako nung may nabubundol syang maselan sa loob ng kweba ko. Umanggulo sya at sunod sunod Ang bayo nya hanggang nanginig ak at akmang lalabasan.

Pumatong sya ng mariin at pinagbabayo Ako ng malakas. Palo ng mga balat at halinghingan at ungol ang laman ng kwarto namin. Napahwaka Ako sa pwet nya habang naglalaplapan kami, at nageespadahan Ang dila namin.

"Malapit na ako mahal~~" bulong nya. Napapikit sya ng mariin habang umiikot na ang mga mata ko sa ligaya.

"aHhhHhhHH~~ baby!"

"Mahal kita Ely---hmp--uhhh! I love you."

Nangisay kaming dalawa. Puro hingal habang lunod sa pawis at titigan naming mag-asawa.

"Ang bigat mo Apollo."

"Palit tayo higaan mo ko."

Bumaligtad kaming dalawa at nakapatong Ako sakanya. Lupaypay na titi nya na lumabas Mula sa puke ko. Tapos bumuhos Ang mga tamod namin. Nagpunas muna Ako. Tapos bumalik sa higaan na may fresh na beddings. I laid on top of him. We were both naked. He kissed my hair. "Mahal na mahal kita."

I kissed his lips. "I love you baby."

[ang-paborito]

Pangalawang Langit Chapter 11

Nag-usap kami. Pinatingin ang picture ni Prima. Four years old na kaya pinasok sa kinder.

"Ayaw mo ba syang Makita? Mahaplos? Maghalikan?"

"For what? I gave her up di ba?"

"Anak mo pa din sya? Sarili mong laman."

"I gave my bit. That's more than enough."

Nauwi kami sa inuman. Linapitan ko siya at naghalikan kami.

"Namiss kita, Sir."

"Simone..."

Tuloy-tuloy kami hanggang bahay ko. Grabeng ligaya ang pinadama niya sa akin. Tatlo hanggang limang beses ako nilabasan sa pag-iyot niya sa akin.

Umalis sya agad dahil hinahanap ng asawa.

"Magmeet tayo ulit."

At dun na nga, naging kabit na naman ako.

Naulit pa iyon. Hindi kami pumasok ng buong araw at doon lang kami sa bahay, nagpapakasasa sa sarap ng bawal na pagtatalik, nagpapakalunod sa kasalanan, sa tawag ng laman, sa bawal na pag-ibig.

Umaga pa lang, nagkantutan na kami agad. Pahinga, tapos ganun ulit. Sa Umaga, nakatatlong rounds nakami. Sa hapon, nakalima kami. Sobrang hapdi na ng puke ko at halos pilay na.

Tumigil din kami dahil pagabi na at babalik na sya sa realidad nya.

Hindi na sya nagpavasectomy dahil masakit. Ako naman nakaIUD ulit. Nagkasakit ako the next day sa pagod.

Nagtext pa Ang Loko. "Habang nagiiyutan kami ni misis ikaw lang iniisip ko na ikaw sya."

Nakadama ako ng selos. Nagsesex pa din sila. Kinainis ko naman ito kaya inaway ko ulit. Wala syang magagawa dahil mag-asawa daw sila. Kaya Sabi ko simula noon, magcondom sya.

Pumayag sya basta once a month, puputukan Niya ako sa loob. Lagi lagi sa bunganga na lang.

Nagkikita kami Minsan ng Patago bago umuwi.

[ang-paborito]

Watch me become a toxic family member

I turned myself into this asshole worst than my relatives para they think twice trying to contact me.

The father side of my family is super toxic and they bullied my mother. For context, my parents were widowed and widower. They remarried to each other. Dad had his own kids from deceased wife, but mom didn't have kids with the deceased husband.

I don't want to get into details of my very MMK worthy family history and drama na villain arc ko charot. Basta ang siste-- my dad's kids and their ugly, lazy kids, dad's relatives gave their worst to my mom. They drove my mother mad during such time and not only that. She miscarried because of my step-sibs.

There was also SA that happened which late namin nalaman so my dad drove them out of our lives. We haven't talked to them in years.

Anywho, my dad died and they blamed my mom which drove her to further depression because they sued her for the conjugal properties that are rightfully ours and the pension that was hers.

This drove my mom nuts until she died years ago.

And recently, they are trying to reconnect with us. Parang nag 360 change sila and they are trying to be nice. I dont know but it's either may habol sila sa estates, businesses ng family namin or that matatandang uugod-ugod na at malapit na madedz kaya you know they are trying to redeem themselves??

Actually ganun din sabi ng cousin ko, they are trying to be nice because lately, a lot of unfortunate events are biting their asses.

One of my siblings got bitten by the dust already. So, baka nag-iisip isip na silang magbagong buhay.

Only one of my half-sibs are really nice to us genuinely, so I only reconnect with him on a regular basis. The others they are trying to mend our relationships which ilang beses ko na tinurn down attempts nila. I also don't allow my younger siblings to be near them. But for my kuya's sake telling me to give them a chance, I oblige.

Pero lol di ako santo!

So, if they invite me sa kasal, reunion, o kahit lamay I show my worrrrrst side.

I guilt trip them of not being religious enough, rich enough, healthy enough etc.

When they talk, I interrupt them and give my very unsolicited opinion. As in kala mo same age.

Yung mga anak nila (who are by the way dahil brainwashed by their parents), I became their toxic tita. Like telling them, "Naku wala kang future diyan sa course mo."

"Ano ba yang trabaho mo, pag senior ka na ganyan pa din walang development?"

"Taba taba mo na baka sumunod ka next (sa namatay)."

"Ate may curves ka naman eh, palabas nga lang."

"Kaya kayo nagkakasakit, kulang kayo sa dasal."

These are the words they tell me, my mom and my siblings, too.

Now until such time, they avoid talking to me.

Now if you think it's too much and petty, try to step into my shoes and relive all our memories, all the pain caused by them-- it's not enough.

[ang-paborito]

Pangalawang Langit Chapter 5

Patuloy ang makamundo at makasalanang ginagawa namin ni Sir Apollo. Hanggang nagfirst anniversary kami. Minsan sa kotse na kami nag-iiyot. Minsan pa nga sa school. Maraming beses nangyari ito

Isang Araw niyaya nya ako Isang Gabi sa faculty office. Doon ay may storage. Pinatuwad Niya ako at nagsex kami.

Sa apartment kami naman lagi. Pero natigil dahil sa thesis ko. Minsan tinutulungan Niya lang sa studies ko. Kaya normalang date lang kami.

Nag-18 na ako. Ginive-up na ni Sir Yung apartment para sa mga hotel hotel na lang kami.

"Happy Birthday," hinalikan Niya ako tapos binigyan ng regalo. At that time 33 na sya. Binuksan ko regalo niya at isang pares ng heels tapos lingerie.

"Dahil babae ka na."

Nagbihis Ako agad na lingerie at heels lang. Nakatulala lang sya nung Nakita Niya at para syang naulol. Hinila Niya ako agad sa kama. Hinalik halikan tapos kinain ng Hindi inaalis Ang black lingerie at heels. Hanggang sa kinantot nya ako suot Yun. Nakatatlong rounds kami. Sobrang sarap.

Walang pahinga as in lango na kami sa libog. Katapos lang kaming labasan, pagpasok na agad nya tite nya tapos babayo ng malakas.

"Sana asawa na lang kita! Aaraw arawin ko matamis mong puke!"

Dumating Ang mga linggo at dahil marami akong pinagkakaabalahan Hindi kami masyadong nagkikita. Pero Isa sa mga kaklase ko si, Vann, nagiging close kami. At ito nagiging dahilan ng away namin.

Lagi syang nagseselos. Tawag ng tawag sa Gabi. Sa bwisit ko, di ko sinasagot. Nakita ko din yung kotse nya na umaaligid sa bahay. Nilapitan ko at nag-usap kami. December na yun. Nagsisigawan na kami at nagalit at Ako, sinisi ko siya. So nakipagbreak Ako at ayaw nya pumayag. Lumabas na Ako at lumabas din sya tapos pinilit nya ako pumasok sa back seat. Pinipilit nya ako hubaran at pinaghahalik Niya ako. Hanggang sa nirape na nya ko sa kotse nya. Ang masama pinutukan nya ko sa loob. Iyak ako ng iyak tapos pinaalis nya ako.

Sirang sira holiday ko noon. Di sya tumatawag di nya ko mine message. Pero hinahanap hanap ko pa din sya. Hinahanap sya ng puke ko, ng katawan ko.

[ang-paborito]

Friends, Faith and Fashion (Trifecta of a teenage dilemma)

... Or at least mine. So let's break this down in three how these has affected me throughout teenage life.

This is going to be short.

Friends

I've always wanted to have friends and looking back, I do desperate measures to have friends. Desperate, stupid measures. The problem now I realized, I'm not very likeable. It takes layers to take off before people realize that I can be a friend. You know how in schools, there are cliques? Not in the Philippines. The cliques are according to level of likeliness. I'm too dumb to have smart friends, too ugly too uncool.

I'm boring even around the most boring people. What's funny is that I was friends with people who are quite questionable. I grew up in a generation where the youth is at an edge--every parents' nightmare. Teenage pregnancy, gangs, and hazing.

But the people I was friends with no matter how hard they smoke, drink or swear-- they wouldn't pull shit on me. I think it's because they are afraid of my mom. I have a friend who emulates Avril Lavigne a lot. Tough in the 4th year classes but will fold when she sees my mother. I think it's because my mother has no filter and she knows everyone's mother. She has no real power but she makes everyone thinks she has.

Faith

In the family, we don't care about religion. My parents do not force that on us that's why we are a collection of theists or atheists. I begged my parents that I be baptised as a catholic because --aesthetic wise.

I know I have mentioned this to you a lot but I lost my faith first before my virginity in high school. It was 2008, and I transferred to a new Opus Dei school in Alicia. And let me describe to you what a sleepy town Alicia is-- it's super undeveloped, No Jollibee, less street lights. I thought La Trinidad is already a province but no. So anyway just 20 kilometers from our farm house, a boy close to my age was gunned down while riding a bike at night just to buy a mobile load. We don't know the full story.

So by 6, after having dinner outside, time to go inside and sleep.

One Friday night, I overstayed at my aunt. It was quite far from the house. By the way, our farm house is just facing a cemetery, 1 kilometer away.

I said goodbye to my aunt and cousins then my aunt lent me her son's bicycle and a flashlight. I rode home but shit, my flashlight is dying on me. And around me are just paddies and wind. I kept going while my flashlight is dying on me so I turned on my phone flashlight but it is too weak.

I was deathly afraid that I will be the next kid on the bike to die. I prayed to God to let me go home.

When I was going, I had this sort of calling--but it was opposite as the one Dominic described it to me when he decided he will become a priest. Dominic described it as something godly, warm and fuzzy.

I remember at that time, it was not that way. Not devilish though but it was as if the wind passed through the padd fields-- do you know in those anime scenes where there is a premonition that the main character is just all alone? So it was an indication for me that I am all alone in the dark, left to fend for myself. That there is no God. It was a very strong feeling. I've long to find it. I dropped out of that school a year later because I was just met with confusion.

[ang-paborito]

Feminism, French, and Ferdinand Marcos

My mother is illiterate. She can't read well. But her favorite author is Lualhati Bautista. She read all her books that have existed indirectly. She also read the newspaper but only the business section and the obituaries then classified ads. I asked why she read the obituaries.

"If someone died in a property especially if it's murder, market value goes down."

Mommy has a monthly subscription of fashion and gossip magazines. She loves the photos and pictures, but hated the words. She still read it.

All of it through my dad. He reads it to her. It was mostly a habit normally I see my parents doing. When Holmes came by and witnessed it herself, she thought it was sweet.

The scene was Dad was reading a translated french poetry to her by Victor Hugo I think.

"Oh?" Just my reaction.

Earlier this year, Lualhati Bautista released her latest, 60s in the city. It's very insightful and entertaining, you should read it. On mom's birthday this year, the first birthday she didn't have on Earth, I read it to her.

I went to Pyramid in Buyagan and sat and read through her. The people there must have seen a lot and ignored me.

I bought the copy personally in the Book Fair and ligned up with greasy weather during the signing. I met Ms. Bautista personally and asked her to sign. I told her that my mom loves her.

"Anong pangalan ng mama mo?"

"Rita."

I was gonna say she doesn't have to because she's dead but I know it'll invoke an uncomfortable interaction. Awkward ess dortof thing.

Mom never went to college but when she joined a group of activists and protesters for labor rights women's rights, she wasnt with intellectual activists but with the marginalized.

Unlike today's breed of activists who love to circlejerk with their intellectual ejaculation for hours with very impractical yet arousing theories of Mao and Marx, the likes of my mother understood only one thing: oppression kills them. The most basic.

I have a lot of hate with today's activists who thinks they are so edgy especially the NatDem but I'm trailing off again from my thoughts.

During the dictatorship, mom's first husband died in the mines. The mining is owned by Marcos's crony. Just like the CCP tragedy, the news was buried alive. They were buried alive. They were complicit so they complained for their labor rights.

My mother doesn't know shit about the law before but she understands rights. She got jailed nonetheless. Then got freed by my dad whose son and daughter were working on giving legal aids to activists.

My mother was a feminist even if she doesn't realize she is one. She is aware but she don't know the word feminist.

She knows deeply what are double standards, inequality, being a woman in a patriarchal society. I believe my uneducated mom is more intelligent on this matter than an educated liberal, intellectual western woman. Because she lived through it. She saw her sisters live through it and she felt that hand over her throat tightening so she demanded to make it stop.

Lualhati Bautista was the same in her own right. She's an activist and a feminist but what I admire about her is how she articulates this knowledge of how oppressive patriarchy is and chews it down on how it trickles down to from the woman in all social classes, most especially in the marginalized area.

I also love that her idea of feminism is not to force women out of marriage and domesticity as others might have misinterpreted.

All her characters aren't the girlboss, CEO with blue hair. They are traditional women in a sense on how society cages a woman. They are housewives, mothers, working mothers, prostitutes, mistresses, poor women, rich women, middle class women daughters-- all of which are living the hellish and brutish patriarchy. It shows that feminism isn't academic. It's lived and experienced is enough to make one a feminist.

That's why for me her books are an eye opener of what patriarchy looks like in the Philippines. Because I think it is not something often talked about. It is not approached in a way as the western world does.

Because we still think women's problems and complaints are not real or not something to be concerned of. NOBODY TAKES A WOMAN SERIOUSLY. Just look at how reproductive health is designed.

Hormonal contraceptives have a lot of side effects for women. When a male hormonal contraceptive was invented, it was not approved because of the same side effects it will cause the men. Sure there are condoms, but we instilled into men that rubbers aren't pleasurable. Ligation. I just found out from a sister that you can't ligate if you never gave birth and if you are married you need a husband's permission. It's a very invasive process too.

For Vasectomy, men can get it as young as 21, married or not, with child or childless. And they will still FUCKING COMPLAIN THAT THE PROCEDURE IS A HASSLE.

If you think the only time tr world take women seriously is when they get assaulted. WRONG!

Sure men aren't taken seriously as well when they get assaulted but that's a different thing altogether.

According to PSA stats only 15% of rape cases filed in a year alone is won.

When you complain about sexual assault. This is what you'll meet:

1. Victim blaming

2. Telling the victim to get over it

3. Be slutshamed

I know because I've been through it. I was blamed of seducing my attacker with my orange sweater and blue jeans and sneakers. And also apparently am a 13 year old slut because I have photos of me on friendster with boys during badminton match.

I learned about feminism when I watched The Dictator in 2012. It's a comedy satire film. The female character considers herself a liberal, all-inclusive, progressive feminist. But going further from Simone du Beauvoir, the Suffragettes, the first wave to the second wave, I came to an understanding why western feminism works a little in Ph settings.

I'd love to dive deep into it but I have less time. I can theorize also.

Filipinos are still secluded to liberal ideas and has a completely different notion of it.

Semantics, maybe?

What is a liberated woman? What is an emancipated woman? What is a free woman? What is an independent woman?

You get different answers.

Totally different.

In the wester world, a liberated woman is someone who pushes back on sexism and pushes for rights.

In Filipino context, a liberated woman is the total opposite of a conservative one not in ideal butin appearance. I asked Hollmae to picture it immediately if I mention it.

"What's a liberated woman?"

"Someone who smokes, drinks, flirts with men and goes home with them and also wear mini skirts."

There's this long tirade Facebook post about telling women to dress properly so we will be respected by men. So laughable and it makes my blood boil. The last one says that women should be more like "Lucy" and not "Kris."

Ibthibk he is or she is referring to the Lucy Torres who is by the way a kleptomaniac. And Kris Aquino is the other one who by the way is Ph's top tax payer. I'd rather be the latter, thanks.

You know whenever a man would tell me or anyone about modest clothing, I'd show them a photo of Igorotas in bare breasts and just tapos. And the men too interlinking their arms. And tell the this is how my ancestors dress up in the days, and there are no recorded rape cases. In fact, there's a docu movie about it by Lester named Walang Rape sa Bontoc. Tis is backed by statistics by the way.

A woman's body is treated by society weirdly. It is begged to be seen and touched and when it does, they are called whores. Marjan Satrapi is my favorite comic artist. Iranian born who witnessed the civil war in her country and the changing political scenes in Iran. Most especially her observation of how women are seen and treated. One strip in her comic book was about modesty where the teacher reprimands the girls to cover up to not to tempt the boys but Marjan points out that the boys are wearing tighty little jeans thatmolds the bulk.

She has also punted out the hipocrisy of religion and internal misogyny. Her mother was like my mother too. Here's my mom photo during one of the protests in Mandaluyong. She made history on being a really cool feminist, liberated mom.

When I get asked what image pops when I hear "a liberated woman".

I picture of this. Mom in bobbed hair with her vintage Gucci glasses with a placard. Raising a middle finger at the government along with the women with their children with ubba on their backs. Her eyes swollen crying for the loss of the love of her life . Another one is when she's sitting at home chugging a Maria Clara wine bottle reading Yes Magasine in her green chiffon daster.

Or that time she is negotiating her way out during a court mediation that even if she never read a single law book in her life, she is well informed about the law. Also she's in red lipstick and gold Tiffany co earrings. That's a historical liberated woman for me

Many women in our history are considered a liberated woman who wears a very long saya and doesn't even course. Look at our politicians, Santiago Defensor, Robredo, Aquino, okay Arroyo hmm, Conchita Carpio--they are what the western world consider as liberated. But they are conservative in appearance, but liberated in mind.

So, in semantics, I think Filipinos have learned wrongly what "liberation" means.

I'm which speaking of politics, I just learned that women only make up a quarter of the government.

No wonder the laws about women's bodies are by men.

I have yet to understand because I'm not a jerkass who claims to understand things.

Why is it?

Religion? Culture? Environment?

Probably.

These are letters to my therapist circa 2015 almost a year after my parents died. I was held back a year and was finishing my last year of college. I was recommended to a therapist and due to busy schedule, I only have sessions twice a month. The therapist recommended writing and journal therapy because she said I communicate better in writing than in speaking.

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the problem with visual platforms like instagram and tiktok (or ones that limit the amount of words you can use like twitter) is that they are inhospitable to complex discussions of themes and narrative. which is why booktok/booktwt are both so stupid. they incentivise u to aestheticise reading to the point where even your personal annotations are more for the benefit of an unseen audience than for yourself. fuck understanding or interrogating the book that youre reading. what u need is likes and retweets. don't buy a book that will make your bookshelf ugly. don't crack the spine, read it once, or read the ebook and keep the physical copy purely for display purposes. only read about hot people, young people, middle class english speaking westerners. only read about people who are exactly like you. you must never be pretentious you must never be overly serious you must never be ugly. etc. its all very miserable

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I’ve never felt horrible.

I asked Hollmae, why? Because I love you, she said.

She said that in Tagalog and for me it’s cringe especially in Ilocano. English is a little bit impersonal.

And by I love you she meant it not in a romantic way, probably a homoerotic one. But she meant it more than a romantic way of saying I love you. But I felt like it was more saintly or compassionate like if you say I love you Jesus.

I can’t categorize it. It’s not motherly, too. It might be close to sisterly. But of all 14 sisters that I have, never have they told me they love me. They are too overprotective, sure, but love as a sister, I don’t know.

I have never felt a sincere sisterly love other than my whole sister; Sally. And I feel bad for treating her and speaking to her. Telling her the bad things she did and already know.

And it made me not sleep at least for the right reason. I drank in it, breathe in it and swimming in it.

I reached back to memories if anyone else have said those to me. Not even my parents or anyone and it’s understandable due to our ethnic culture not being able to be affectionate.

“Why are you wasting your time on me?”

“Because I love you.”

“Because I love you.” It rang to me and it made me feel guilty. It rang into my ears until I forced my sleep to sleep and even I woke up.

I never felt that I deserved that "love" because I know I'm a terrible human being and she's just fine with it.

Because I have realized that I have never actually felt love outside my parents’ cage. Or outside of my family.

I quite an excerpt from Haruki Murakami’s Billowing Woman: “If he was not my son, I would not have needed to love him. If he was a stranger, I wouldn’t care about him.”

I was filled with guilt crying because of all people who would say that they are delaying their future, wasting time, money and effort to make sure I don’t kill myself or make sure I don’t feel alone. Like, I don’t have anything to offer. Of all people who would say that was someone I’ve never cared about. Because she was just a convenience. She was always there no matter how terrible I am.

I don’t deserve her love.

Generally, someone who treats her like shit doesn’t deserve her love.

And I was that someone who treats her like shit. I dwelled in it. I also know someone who treated her like shit.

That was in July of this year that she said something.

“I was sad when you were suddenly gone. We used to be constant. But you won’t tell me where you are, how you are, what you are doing.”

Something along that lines. Basically blaming my absence. And for me that’s very insensitive. I AM GRIEVING AT MY FATHER AND IM TRYING STOP MY MOTHER FROM KILLING HERSELF.

But I think now I understand that she wants to grieve with me. Like I died, too.

I remember being told that there’s a reason for everything. Probably, this is the reason. To make me feel terrible.

And because I am a terrible person, I told her that I don’t want to see her anymore. I became upset about something petty. I ended it. It's not my fault but I admit I had a responsibility and I had no right to be angry. I fucked up and she fucked up.

I went home, one perfect rainy midnight. Dramatic as it is, I dropped off the taxi not opening my umbrella, then cried. Even when it's raining while you cry, people can still see it. There's a corner in our house where I usually go to smoke. I lit my a stick and ugly cried. The only time I cried like this was when my dad died. When mom did, just a little that's because I wasn't given a privacy or a space to wallow into our sorrow.

What she did to me was worst than my parents dying. I tried to think now if maybe I am just biased. Like if it were a girl, would I feel the same thing? Would it not have hurt my ego?

I broke it off with her. Subtly though because I'm not confrontational. I told you I'm a coward. I did it again. I ghosted her. Never replying never talking nada!

But she followed me around like a lost puppy. And I'm convinced that we could give it a chance.

We spent assessing and fixing what we have. Trying to live again. We would have our midnight walks and it's mostly one of my favorite things to do. Baguio is practically safe even if we get catcalled at one point while walking. We love long walks. From my house to BGH finding the morgue, talking about ghosts and spirits. Pretending to be watchers, going around in the ward and reading charts gone unnoticed.

Or in that dimly lit street. Or around Pacdal walking to her home in Navy base or to Ambuclao. Or just chilling at the PO benches looking at session road and SM or infornt of PLDT while having cans of beer or Starbucks. Talking and talking, laughing, holding hands, combing each other's hair. It's almost as if there's a reset.

We are happy. Or so I thought. Now I realize I tend to sabotage it when that happens. Like when I feel good or happy, I felt I don't deserve it so in a way, subconsciously maybe, I ruin it.

I always believed since last year I don't deserve to be happy because some shit follows. I just want steady.

When I turned 20, I was at Camp Aguinaldo in QC. All the offices I went to, they sang me a happy birthday, no kidding. I was grateful but it was embarrassing. I was a stranger to them and they don't seem to be friendly but knowing that it's my birthday and probably since I'm applying for claims, they tried to cheer me up. My mother just died on the 24th.

The woman who brought me there, an officer, bought me a dozen of Krispy Kremes. It's my first time to have this American donuts and they taste too sweet but good. I felt happy like in the past five months I've only had uncertainty, panic, and paranoia. The donut replace the bitterness in my life.

The other elderly we were with, her husband died a few years back who was also a veteran. He talked about his husband. She learned about my parents. She told me this one thing not verbatim, "I would have chosen to die but I have kids. They were my reason to live."

Her kids are adults.

My mother has me. So the donut I ate recoiled into bitterness. Does that mean my mom didn't want to live for me, instead she died for my dad?

We got to Baguio and the elderly lady bought me a Vizco cake since she's getting her pension so it's a small thing. She also lived near Navy Base. I wanted to drop off and see Holmes if only wasn't carrying boxes of treats. I wanted to share it with her as we always do. I gave her a cake costing 300 when she turned 18. When I turned 19, she gave me a cupcake with a small candle. The cupcake was ₱40 and I knew that burned a hole in her pocket. She only have 70 as a daily allowance. Two weeks ago, she went to my residence. I was there but I told the caretaker to turn her away. I was hidimg above the rooftop when she visited. I didn't feel anything. I wanted to talk to her But I feel I am so broken to do so. I just watched her walk away.

She turned 20 this year and we patched up, watched Minions. Then a week later she told me something upsetting. Some thing she did that she owed me an apology for. I owe her one too but I was upset. What was I expecting? That she remains loyal while I cut connection and act crazy?

I turned 21 last month and she rode a bus amidst the raging storm from Abra to Baguio to get to my birthday.

She just knocked on my door and gave me this kind of relic. A coconut shell repurposed as a bowl or a mug and many more. We set up the rooftop with lights and curtains and sheets as our tent. Threw on the cushion and watched witch movies like Sabrina, and the Craft and other light to semi dark fantasies. We stayed up wrapped in sweaters and drinking tea cocoa or with beer to heat us up. I slept on her lap and woke up hugging each other.

It's probably one of the best birthdays.

My parents aren't into that birthday party stuffs mostly because my parents aren't big into it. Only my dad has birthday partes beause every birthdays of his counts.

These are letters I sent to my therapist when my parents died. She figured out I am more comfortable writing than talking. And due to busy schedules, I can only have 2 sessions I week. So she told me to write letters.