forlornputato

[forlornputato]

Dear Anak,

The truth is, I have no idea what to do with my life. I know what I want, but I don't have the means to start or the financial freedom to brave my fears.

Most of the time, I feel like a little kid. I feel like I shouldn't be worrying about whether to have a kid or buy a house. These are the dilemmas of the adults! But the reality is, I had to grow up fast. I have a father who refuses to work, a sick mom, a brother in college, and a lifestyle so grand you might think I'm a millionaire (please don't be like me)!

I don't have my shit together contrary to what the photos I post on my social media accounts show. I have a car, a girlfriend (your mommah), an apartment we share with a housemate, anxiety, depression, and a dream. But that's pretty much it.

Dear anak, if you're reading this from the future, I want you to know that your mommy was once a child (I still feel one honestly). I don't have a lot. No safety net, no wealthy parents to clean up after my mess. I don't have the luxury to screw things up because I can't afford second chances. But I have ambitions, and resiliency. I am stubborn. I get scared. ALWAYS. But I go after the things I want until I get them. I am good at what I do in my job. I have a kind heart, and a curious mind. I get scared. ALWAYS. But I do things anyway.

I just turned 29 and I still feel lost. My mind is struggling to keep up with my age. I feel like I'm still 22, like I just took a nap and woke up suddenly as this almost-30-year-old woman who has to make decisions about her future.

I want to have you. I really do! I don't know you yet. Your soon-to-be atoms are probably in a plant somewhere out there, helping with its photosynthesis but I feel like I’m already connected to you. Am I crazy? Oh god please don't think of me as a crazy person. Anyway, I hope you get what I'm trying to say here. I really want you. I want to meet you and kiss you and hug you and just love you with all my heart. But is it okay if I take my sweet time, if your momma and I take our sweet time?

My mom was a decent parent to me, but she made a lot of mistakes in her life, mistakes she passed on to me. And I didn't want that happening to me, and to you. I want you to have a chance in life. I want you to have the freedom to be the person that you want to be without worrying whether your money is enough to support yourself and my medications. I don't want you to have to choose between living your life and taking care of me and your momma. I don't want us to hold you back. I want you to be free, to be kind, to be adventurous, to be curious, to be brave, to go out there and experience what it's like to just…be.

I'm going to work on myself before having you. Because that's what you deserve. Parents who are emotionally, financially, spiritually, and physically ready. We'll meet soon.

Hope the photosynthesis is going well!

[forlornputato]

Happy Mom's Day!

This feels like more than a stab directly aimed at my heart. This feels like the betrayal of a lifetime. I feel like all my life, I've been lied to.

I grew up hating my father so much. His abuse gripped me, suffocating me throughout what seemed like my entire existence.

I remember being so confused. His actions made me mad, his addiction made me angry, like an animal lashing out. Yet, on the rare occasions when he was sober, I could feel the arms of hope slowly making its way to my heart, promising something better. I remember always wondering, always hopeful, always so innocent .... "Maybe this time, it's real. Maybe this time, he'll learn. Maybe this time, he'll change." Only he didn't. He doesn't. It's a vicious, never-ending cycle that made me want to rip my heart out of my chest. I remember praying and begging God to give me a switch so I could just turn off my love for him. After all, every hurt in my bones is an echo of every love I'm giving. God wasn't listening. God has never listened. And so I blamed my father! I screamed, I puked, I acted out, I cut myself, I lost myself. I blame my father. I scream, I puke, I act out, I cut myself, I lose myself. Until eventually, I freed myself from the curse of this love I had for him. I walked out the door one night and never returned. No one, not even my father, will ever have the power to hurt me that way again.

The entire world was mine, all mine, for the first time. I walked through it with a heart beginning to mend. I went to therapy with a positive disposition about my own recovery. For the first time, I felt hopeful. Slowly, very slowly, I was learning what it means to be healed.

But not quite. It wasn't entirely peaceful. Each night, a violent nudge would awaken me. Whenever my mind was generous enough to give me sleep, my body would jolt me awake, screaming, "Not yet! You have your mom to take care of. You are the eldest daughter in an Asian household."

And so, I took it upon myself to shoulder a responsibility so huge that one might think I was a teenage mom. As if I was the one who brought kids into the world without financial security. Remember, I am the eldest daughter in an Asian household.

I struggled to find the balance between supporting a family and pursuing my own dreams. So, I took a gamble. In exchange for a treasure trove filled with gold and money, I sacrificed myself. Because for those without privileges, letting capitalism abuse you is often the necessary sacrifice to put food on the table. I worked hard until I forgot what it feels like to be hungry. I worked hard until I had enough money to send my brother to school. I worked hard until I could afford anything my mom wanted. I worked so hard that I forgot how to dream. I was a machine, but I didn't care. I was stripped of my essence, but I didn't care. I have money. I got them. I got this.

Only I don't. Because when I cut off the only person who was hurting me back then—my dad—I wasn't very clear about my boundaries. I failed to make it clear that I no longer wanted him in my life. Gradually, without my realizing it, my mom was rebuilding the bridges I had burned to ashes. And before I knew it, I found myself halfway across that very same bridge. Again.

There goes the little hope. Again. There goes the little gentle whisper. Again. "Maybe he'll change. Maybe he'll learn. Maybe it's not too late." "Maybe he just needs his daughter to reconnect with him. Maybe I should be thanking my mom for this bridge."

For the millionth time, over and over and over again, I was proven wrong. But today, the pain disappeared so fast I didn't even have the chance to recognize it was gone. I didn't blame him. I didn't scream, didn't vomit, didn't act out, didn't harm myself, I didn't lose myself. Instead, I simply removed myself from his life, free of guilt, curses, sleepless nights, and love. I did it before, what's stopping me from doing it again?

My mom: she needed saving.

And so I spent years trying to make sense of her decisions and of her actions. I was so frustrated, so hurt, so betrayed. Because if you have the option to leave a household, a relationship that does nothing but hurt you, why wouldn't you?

She can't give me any answer. So I made one. "Do you know what Stockholm syndrome is? You should see my mom. " "Do you know what years of abuse does to someone? You should see my mom." "Do you know how hard it is to leave an abusive relationship? You should see my mom."

I defended her to myself, "She's your mom." I defended her to my heart, "Remember when she took care of you?" I defended her to my mind, "She's a victim, too. It's not that easy to stop a cycle."

And so very slowly, I channeled all my anger into actions driven by a desire to understand her. "Ma, usap tayo. Bakit hindi mo maiwan si papa?"

And very slowly, I saw how she defended her to herself. "Diba lalong lumalala ang mga kagaya niya kapag iniiwan? Nakakaawa." I saw how she defended her to her heart. "Naging mabuting asawa at tatay naman siya kaya ka nga nakapag aral ka/kayo." I saw how she defended her to her mind. "Wala eh, ito na ang bunga ng mga mali kong decision."

I was pleading. "But I can save you." I was begging. "Please, alis ka na. Hahanapan kita bahay, bibilihan kita ng gamit." I was hurting. "Please ma, nahihirapan na kasi ako."

And time and time and time again, I have witnessed how my parents chose their unhealthy relationship patterns over themselves. Over and over again, I've seen how my parents choose each other over us, over me, their daughter.

I thought maybe I was blaming the wrong person my entire life. Abuse is abuse. But if you have the power and the means to choose yourself, why would you allow the abuse to continue for so long? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should also blame the person who tolerates it? Maybe. I don't know.

And here I am, 29 years of existing, 29 years of letting them hurt me, only now mustering the courage to draw my boundaries. Burning the bridge didn't work. Here's a wall. Sitting with them and calmly talking didn't work. Here's my silence. Years of trying so hard to understand what it feels like for them to be trapped your whole life in an addiction and an abusive relationship didn't work. Here's my goodbye.

I am the eldest daughter in an Asian household. It hurts so much that I can't do anything to save them. But maybe this is no longer my fight.

I am the eldest daughter in an Asian household. It hurts so much to see them hurting each other. But maybe I already did my best and now is the time to accept the cold hard fact that I cannot do anything anymore because everything now is their choice, not mine.

Because maybe, just maybe, maybe it's not my responsibility to re-parent my parents. Because what would you do for someone who refused to be helped? Nothing. Just make peace with the fact that sometimes, loving people means doing it from a distance.

I am the eldest daughter in an Asian household. And for the first time, the world is mine.

[forlornputato]

Kierkegaard & Whatever It Is I Lost

"The biggest danger that you can face in this life is losing."

I spent a week racking my brain, trying to figure out what exactly it was that I had lost. Stephen West simplified it with an example of losing something like your phone. You could easily go half a day without realizing it's gone. Now, when your muscle memory kicks in and you instinctively reach for your phone, only to find it missing, you immediately recognize what you've lost.

Now, compare that scenario to losing something like your principles. It's not a sudden, drastic change, I'm pretty sure. It gradually happens over time, influenced by your experiences, environment, and the people around you. But here's the thing, months or even years may pass before you even notice that you have lost your morals. And that's only if you're fortunate enough to be aware of what you've lost. After all, some people live their entire lives not knowing they have lost something.

I have to hand it to Kierkegaard. When you find yourself losing your sense of identity, you will likely also find yourself grappling with a lack of direction.

And so I began to ask myself, "What is it that I have lost?" If I never truly knew who I was, how can I even begin to answer this? And why am I so determined to come up with something?

What am I worth? I would say it depends on the situation I find myself in. If I am merely surviving, I would estimate around 10,000 pesos. If I am thriving, I would raise it to 120,000. That's it! That's one answer I've been looking for!

I have always placed a monetary value on my worth as an individual. I might even disregard my morals and principles just to "get by." I have come to realize that my self-perception is directly influenced by my income, the level of financial support I provide to my family, and the extent to which I can give back to others.

But in a capitalist world, money is finite. Or I could potentially lose my job due to layoffs or accidents. I lack control over numerous factors that could potentially affect my employment. This reality is deeply unsettling and instills a profound sense of fear in me. Whenever I think of this uncertainty, I find myself spiraling into a state of overwhelming insignificance. And that's because my worth has always been about my money.

So sit with me as I find something valuable in my existence. Surely there are a few I can discover.

My worth is in the multitude of lessons that others have learned from me. I have hurt people but I also have loved them.

My worth lies within every tear I've shed, reminding me of my capacity to love.

My worth lies in the joy that illuminates the eyes of the people I love whenever they see me, and my soul deeply understanding that my existence alone is enough for them.

My worth lies in every idea I learn and bravely challenge, knowing that one day my voice will echo through history.

My worth lies in the single seed I nurtured and brought to life when I was 12, and how, for all eternity, its presence will linger in the air we all breathe.

My worth resides in the influence I had on a girl who ultimately chose to pursue an education in teaching, just like the 2016 me.

My worth is found in every laugh I bring to Leanne, whether it's during dinner, breakfast, or bedtime.

My worth lies in the newfound lesson my mom has learned from me about boundaries.

My worth is found in the countless moments of success and silence that I share with my friends.

My worth can be found in the moments when I gaze at the empty wall of my room and talk to Einstein, Jesus, Aristotle, Kierkegaard, and Blaise Pascal.

My worth is defined by the immense strength and bravery it requires for me to remain steadfast in the face of suffering.

I am here. I am living. And I think that alone is enough for now.

Sir, Kierkegaard sir, I don't think I have lost myself. Oh, disregard that. I actually think I did lose hundreds of parts of myself. But, when I consider what I can gain just by confronting your idea, that very bravery alone reassures me that whatever it is that I will lose, will eventually come back to me in one form or another.

[forlornputato]

Pivot! Pivot! Pivot!

Back when I started watching The Good Place, I remember wanting to learn more. That's when my curiosity peaked. I remember the eagerness of wanting to learn more about philosophy when Chidi helped Jason & Eleanor. It mostly stemmed from wanting to be a good person; I was sort of thinking how amazing my life would be if I just know how to be a good person.

I then started questioning my motive. Why do I want to be seen as someone good? Is this some sort of moral desert? Do I want to be good for the sole purpose of being known as someone good? Or do I believe, with all my life, that being a good person is a moral responsibility?

That's when I knew what I wanted to do - learn! I started with "What We Owe To Each Other," but I couldn't even understand the first paragraph. For context, I never had a formal education, and I remember thinking, "Maybe philosophy is something you learn inside a class?" I gotta be honest, that bummed me. I don't have enough money to send me to school. What good would it do if I could quench my thirst to learn but can't provide for my basic needs?

And so, the months of looking for resources online began - anything, really - that could help me answer the questions flooding my mind. I looked for essays, blog posts, YouTube channels, Reddit threads, forums, movies, and series. I noticed that these materials have one thing in common and the same thing that was such a blockage to my ever so curious mind: they take these big philosophical ideas, dissect them but in the process of explaining, use words that my little brain just can't grasp on its own. No offense to them, really. But it made me think, maybe I'm just not their target audience. I mean, I've read a few articles where I thought, "I get the general idea, but man, they made it way more complicated than it needed to be!"

I then stumbled upon a book that proved to be a tremendous help: The Pig That Wants to Be Eaten by Julian Baggini. The clear presentation of ideas in this book was what made the crucial difference for me. It prevented me from giving up out of sheer frustration and instead motivated me to persist in my search. Finally, I began to understand the basic principles, mainly, what it takes to be a good person.

But I wanted more. What good is knowledge if I can't apply it? And how can I apply it if I don't know the right questions to ask myself.

Finally, and I do mean finally, with a big sigh and a huge hooray, I have found Philosophize This! by Stephen West, and let me tell you, my life will never be the same!

Stephen West has this rare exceptional ability and intelligence to tackle complex concepts, breaking them down into smaller, digestible pieces. He adeptly uses the simplest of language, making it accessible even to individuals with limited understanding, like myself! Additionally, he consistently poses thought-provoking questions, encouraging listeners to reflect on the knowledge gained from each episode. To add to this already delightful experience, West provides the most relatable and straightforward examples, making the content even more realistic and comprehensible! I am inlove!

And so, every morning, I eagerly anticipate hearing him say, "Thank you for wanting to know more today than you did yesterday, and I hope you enjoy the show." Can you believe it? This man, this stranger who is likely thousands of miles away from me, this person whom I have never met and probably never will, is actually grateful that I am learning from what he's saying? I hope the universe bless his beautiful heart forever and always.

Yet, there is still something missing, something I couldn't quite put my finger on until last night when I spent time talking with my girlfriend and our housemate. We got to talking about our childhood and what made us the people we are now. I told her about my one and only hobby: learning. That's when she asked, "What do you do about it?" Right?? I mean, Right? So here's Stephen West helping me understand a piece of knowledge in this vast universe, but what do I do about it? I know it made me happy. I know it satisfied me. But what do I do about this newfound information passed on to me? They say knowledge is power. But I started to realize, power is only power if you know how to use it, if you actually use it.

And here's when I will make a pivotal shift in this blog. I don't intend to make it famous. On the contrary, I want this space to be my own, something personal, something I can always claim.

I am tired of being a sorry person. I am tired of talking about my depression and silent battles. I want to be someone who learns every single day. And so, moving forward, I will take whatever information is gifted to me, write about it, and relate it to my life.

And maybe, just maybe, I'd find who I really am.

The Pig That Wants To Be Eaten

Philosophize This!

Michael Schur

[forlornputato]

"Address the letters, to the holes in my butterfly wings"

I miss Dana & Janssen.

Dana has a smile that could light up the world and a humor that would make you cry from laughing. Yet at times when you need someone to be there with you and sit with the silence, she has no problem embracing just that.

She likes her hair and her make-up. She likes her tiny dresses and shorts and tank tops. She likes to be pretty and I think she's beautiful even without those.

She has a home that welcomes everyone she considers her friend. True it's scary, but her family will make you feel the warmth and love you could be missing from your own house. I like their bathtub because we didn't have one growing up. I like their big house that echoes both love and grief and honestly, what's the difference?

I like our little talks about boys and how she fell for the wrong guy. But she has the strength and independence that will make you see she doesn't really need anyone because she got herself.

Dana has a smile that could light up the world and a beauty that would make you feel lucky she is your friend. And I wish I hadn't messed that up.

Janssen has eyes that sparkle and a glow that would make you feel all the warmth in this world.

She likes her hair as is and I wish I could tell her how amazing that is. In a world where everyone wants to be everyone, embracing who you truly are is a gem rare as a painite.

She has a home that welcomes everyone she considers her friend, and her grandma's recipe, divine! I like her bed and how we used to spend hours talking and watching movies on it.

She taught me why lotion is important, or why Kim Kardashian is actually a cool person. Her stories took me to Japan and she bakes the most delicious coffee-based cake!

Janssen has eyes that sparkle and a beauty that would make you feel lucky she is your friend. And I wish I hadn't messed that up.

I miss Paeng and Fernan.

Paeng is both gentle and firm. He taught me resiliency and how to love while you still have the time.

Paeng sees the world differently. He can put his thoughts into words easily and he's not sorry for doing so. He's brave but considerate. He's fearless but gentle.

Paeng has a wisdom that might one day change the world, and the strength to be vulnerable but still stand on what he believes in. Being with him would make you feel lucky he is your friend. And I wish I hadn't messed that up.

Fernan is silent and mysterious. But once you get to know him, he's one of the funniest and coolest people you'll ever know.

He taught me curiosity and influenced how I approach my work. He's analytical and honest.

He never minds being the butt of the jokes sometimes. Sure he would retaliate by tickling you to death. But when you need someone to talk to about life and existence, he is understanding and curious.

I like his questions, and honestly I think he taught me the curiosity that I have these days.

Being with him would make you feel lucky he is your friend. And I wish I hadn't messed that up.

I wish I hadn't messed it all up.

[forlornputato]

Calilayan Cove - Unisan, Quezon

Leanne & I with Jam at Calilayan Cove.

This could be one of the most calming, beautiful, relaxing, and affordable beaches I ever went to.

You will be captured by its beauty lalo na sa sunset at gabi kasi napaka calm ng dagat. It's one of the places na marerecommend ko talagang worth it puntahan specially if you want to have a moment of David Thoreau's 2 years in isolation and wanna reflect on life's purpose in general.

We went swimming isang gabi tapos may optical illusion yung edge ng dagat at bundok or land. Parang nothing is real but me and the moment I was allowed to exist. Paulit ulit kong sinasabi sa sarili ko na I am happy that I lived through this moment. Hindi ko alam anong purpose ko, or bakit ko ginagawa yung mga bagay na nag ssnatch away ng time ko pero back there, I was alive.

Ang pinaka realization ko this time - life is like the waves. It takes away as quickly as it gives. Pero whatever it gets back, it makes sure to return in some form or another. I will always come short. I don't always know what to do, don't always have my life together. But as long as I am allowed to live, I'll do my best to be happy and love the people I love.

[forlornputato]

Something has clicked, shifted, like an unfathomable force that completely changed the person I used to be.

It started with stories of murders and mysteries, every night whispering in my ears. Like some sort of a lullaby sending me to sleep. It eventually changed to people gently talking to me, guiding me into visualizing what I've always wanted. Alas, the voices shifted into something more complex, difficult to understand at times but nonetheless gave me tons of what I deemed to be helpful information. I started knowing who Blaise Pascal was, arguing with myself what is the real ship of Theseus. Everything, finally, was peaceful. Or so I thought.

One day, someone pointed out to me "People find it hard to sleep at night because falling asleep requires peace."

All at once, I saw in vivid detail everything that had taken place in this invisible thread that connects me to the universe - my mom falling so hard with my dad, the two of them deciding to get married, having us, me falling in love with a girl back when I was 18, navigating life without someone guiding me, losing friends, betraying people. Everything was bleak. Everything was painful. Everything IS painful.

My nights were never peaceful. It never was, not even for once. I mastered the art of blurring the noises of my history, closing my eyes, and convincing myself everything was falling into its rightful place finally.

Call it ignorance, call it acting my zodiac sign, call it indifference. I have just been so good at blurring the noises but they never left me, not even for once.

"You manipulate people. That's what you do to keep them"

"You lie. That's what you do to save your ass."

"You aren't grateful you exist. You have always hated it. Carrying a responsibility to keep a household standing gave you nothing but anger."

"You are not capable of loving anyone who you can't take advantage of. "

"You want the attention but go crazy and drag people when it becomes too much."

"You didn't change, you just bought a fancy mirror."

"You don't find the good in people. You just convinced yourself you are kind. Because kind is better. Kind is always better."

"You are not capable of loving someone. "

"You, you are a monster"

And so what do I do? I blur them. It doesn't matter if it's to cover with a story of someone who was killed. It doesn't matter if it's a hum to help me realize my goals. It doesn't matter if it's someone explaining why Simone Weil is a rockstar. It doesn't matter. I blur them. I blur them all because kind is always better. Kind is always better.

[forlornputato]

For a few days now, I couldn't help but think that maybe it's very human to want to experience - things, emotion, pain, happiness, and all the complexities that come with being alive.

No, I'm not romanticizing grief. Even I can't imagine going through that. But I've noticed that this world is starting to feel like a whole machinery & sooner or later, all of us at some point will feel numb, like some kind of a cog trained to keep the wheel rolling.

Societal problems & injustices never give anyone any rest. People have this innate need & want to survive. But what happens when the world we live in is no longer conducive even for survival? We get devoid of experience. We go numb. And so maybe, perhaps we then start to feel this creeping burning desire to want to feel. And it doesn't matter if it's misery or loneliness. Could it be that pain is better than nothing at all?

[forlornputato]

I have never really successfully listened to my body and my thoughts post-exhaustion or mental breakdown. I've always been so good at ignoring myself when I don't feel like confronting my worst enemies. But today, it's a little bit different.

Last Sunday, I finally mustered the courage to go to the hospital and have the bump on my bum area get checked. Right there and there, I was told that I needed to be admitted because it was infected and it needs to be surgically removed/drained. I had my doubts. I had my worries. I didn't have any emergency savings for this. Sure I'm earning above the minimum wage but I only just started with my 3rd client. I need to send money to my mom, need to send money to my brother as he's graduating from high school. I didn't have any money with me.

Leanne convinced me though, and I am so glad she did! The operation did it! I can now sit, walk and stand without the excruciating pain. The last week was hell. But to tell you honestly, my entire stay at that hospital was worse.

I was in an "isolation" room with no sunlight. Time was an illusion inside that room. I was in and out sleeping, or crying, or in agony. I had a withdrawal from not being able to smoke for days. I couldn't eat the normal way because my blood sugar was high. I couldn't sleep because emotionally, I wasn't doing well.

There came a point when I begged and begged people to let me out, and smoke. I begged and cried to my girlfriend, I screamed and thought everybody was trying to keep me their prisoner. I was hysterical. I needed sunlight, I needed my cigarette. I thought the doctors will kill me in the OR. I was fucking hysterical. I saw my girlfriend's struggle when she was trying to calm and reassure me. I saw the exhaustion in her eyes when I begged her to let me out.

To cut the story short, the worst was over. Everything went well. Nobody killed me. I finally had my 1st cigarette Tuesday afternoon. All's well that ends well. And so I thought.

But here I am, 1 day post-hospitalization and I am feeling a surge of guilt and self-loathing. I hate myself for putting Leanne through the experience. It feels terrible knowing that she didn't know what to do with me when I was hysterical. I feel terrible knowing that she had to support me physically, mentally, and financially ALONE. She had to spend her savings so we can settle the bill and I know how protective she is of her money. AND FOR GOOD REASONS. But because of me, she had to let them go.

There's this guilt inside me, eating me alive. Do I deserve this kind of love? After all the stress I put her through? I fucking feel so worthless. I didn't have any money for myself because all I ever did was spend and give them away. I feel so terrible and small and just worthless.

And now I feel guilty for feeling all of these. Because I shouldn't be feeling any of it. I should have my shit together and go back to work so I can pay her. I should fucking feel thankful and not hate myself. I should be okay.

Maybe this is normal? I don't know. I should have learned my lesson years ago but here I am again, spiraling for the same reasons. I fucking hate myself. I am so worthless.

[forlornputato]

My thoughts often drift to those I have loved and lost, to the ones I will never know and those I can no longer speak to. Visions of them dance in my head like a vivid dream, and I cling to these moments before they fade away from my memory, like a whispered caress from the breeze of a cold night. 

I almost always make the same jokes. Walk and talk the same way. But if we are both standing side by side facing the mirror, I bet you also couldn't recognize me. Time taught me honesty and grace. What it selfishly took away from me when you were around, I brought back to life. Yet, like a majestic piece of an enormous puzzle, you're no longer here to witness my bloom. A filmy, beaming piece of a memory, you are.

I wish you exist in stars, planets, or galaxies far far away, yet to be discovered, yet to be seen. When the day comes that I finally have the means to do so, I'll look up, in the past, in the stars, in the universe, and see you happy. I'll use stardust to write to you "Would you like to go out with me?" Happily, I know you'll say yes. And together, without the pain and shame and guilt, we'll paint the memories back, in the stars, in other galaxies, in the past. I know it deep within my heart, your love will come back to me, in whatever shape and form the universe deemed to be the finest, most beautiful.

[forlornputato]

One year wiser, Vanessa. One year wiser.

I know time can only move forward. But it isn't the case in my mind. Within my memory, I find myself rolling back and forth, being tossed in different directions, running up down left right, seems like a Jeremy Bearimy.

I don't want it to stop. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don't want to stop living. But comes with the epiphany is a question. At which point will the I find the answer? Maybe there isn't one.

If the journey doesn't really end, at which point will I find the strength in my conviction? If I really have one. At which point will I see more than what the mirror tells me? "You are always your past. You are always what you did."

Tell me, if we are in Jeremy Bearimy, at which point will I stand my ground and offer compassion to the demons chasing after me? Or maybe there isn't one. Maybe, in moments where I feel like I am fighting something evil, I am actually just meeting the versions of me I couldn't remember. Perhaps from my past, perhaps from my future. Could it be that somewhere between a vertical line and a tiny minuscule point, comes a rare moment, a magical crossroad, where I meet... all of me?

Isn't this a wonderful thought? To know that just like an eclipse, I will always have the time in this loop to meet my beloved, caress my own skin, touch my own screams, silence my own anger and love every version of me?

[forlornputato]

And if I'm going to burn, I'd like to burn all of me. Every stained piece, every clothing I chose, every crevice, every fiber, every lie, every facade.

I'd like to shred every inch of my skin that this pain continue to touch. If it wants me to bleed, then it can aim for the softest part of myself that I didn't know existed. If it wants to kill me, I'd like to just stand still and let it.

If the pain will bring ruins to the tallest walls I built, then I'd want what I buried to be exhumed, too. Every bone and every scream for justice, I'd like the whole town to hear.

If this pain becomes an abuser, I'd want to strip myself naked. I'd want to lie motionless and stiffle a plead. Every inch of disgust and helplessness, I'd like everyone to see.

I'd like to shred every inch of my existence that this pain continues to touch. If it wants me dead, then it can aim for the coldest part of myself that I didn't know existed. If it wants to kill me, I'd sit still and let it.

Because if I am going to burn, I'd like to burn all of me. Every stained piece, every clothing I chose, every crevice, every fiber, every lie, every facade. If I'm going to burn, I'll burn all of me and I'll never look back.

[forlornputato]

All my life, I've been told God hates gays. I didn't care. I couldn't care. Until I became one myself.

And so came the years of twisting my beliefs, trying to fit what I feel into what the bible tells us about morality.

But the question remains. God, do you? Do you really hate us? I am not a bad person. Not the kindest but a human, nonetheless. How am I capable of feeling love, a genuine kind for that matter, and be hated for that? God, do you? Do you really turn your back on us? How am I capable of giving the best that I can without expecting anything in return and still be cursed for that?

I am always a kid. I will forever wander at this existence you've given me. I will always love and do things wrongly. I will always disappoint you. But I will always love. I will always love. So would we meet each other one day? Would you look at me with compassion? Or with contempt?

[forlornputato]

Oh god, there are moments I want to stop talking about my depression. Like stop in the middle of my thoughts and just forget about it. Like if I just ignore it and pretend I don't hear anything, it'd magically disappear. Like replace the mental image of my bloody wrist with something as sunny as Lorde's sun salutations. Like if I just extend my arms for the ray of sunlight to reach them, my depression would magically disappear. Like replace the ragged and angry reflection of myself in the mirror with something as beautiful and peaceful as Eleanor and Chidi's ocean waves. Like if I just force myself to think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, my depression would magically disappear. Like replace my overbearing mental sufferings with something as light as the wind blowing outside my window. Like if I can just change myself, in my entirety, my depression would magically disappear. If only I can stop talking about my depression. But my mind LOVES making pretend. And it's one hell of a deal closer. Like if I just repeatedly tell myself I matter, maybe I will matter. Oh god, I want to stop talking about my depression. Like stop here. In the middle of my ever wandering thoughts. Stop right here. Fuck, I am tired. Stop. Stop. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.

[forlornputato]

Anger is said to speak the same language as love. But I know better.

Hatred can have its roots only in bitterness and spite. Some hatred takes the shape of curses & cries and it doesn't beg anyone to call it love.

There's no love in abuse. There's no love in begging. There's no love in midnight runs trying to make sense of who you've become.

There is no love in threats or desperation. There's no love in getting your heart broken from discovering thousands of secret conversations kept just below every "I miss you."

No, there's no love in spending countless nights in your solitary room, alone, wishing that the emptiness soon becomes a reason.

There's no love in manipulation. There is no love in loneliness, bathed in the cries of 3 am sky, asking the convenience store to give you just a bit of shelter.

There's no love in betrayal and cheating. There's no love in going back to make love with someone you've already killed.

Apathy won't work in all circumstances. There are days when forgiveness will not heal what time cannot. So what remains is the anger that recognizes the wrong.

What they say is true. You grieve sometimes because of love.

Love in a form of grief, I discovered, is not always the reflection of the person who violated you. In some cases, the love that echoes in your grief is the love you have for yourself, only for yourself.

Hatred is a heavy thing. But, so was your innocence and love being snatched away.

Anger and love don't always speak the same language. Your peace was shattered, your faith was shaken. You carry all the burden of terrible things they did to you. Sometimes, that's just what the anger is all about. And you are free to feel them.

[forlornputato]

гладиолус

In the quiet of the night, I can't stop thinking about you.

Days pass, laughter breaks, hysterics grow and I still find myself looking for you. Every goddamn day.

But you are not here anymore.

What happens to people when they die will always be a mystery. What happened to you though is simple: life.

I look at the pictures of your parents, of your sisters. They are living their lives. They look so happy. I can only imagine how hard it must be for them to hold together the pieces of what crumbled in your home when you died and still smile in pictures. How painful it is for them to see your memories floating everywhere, but with you nowhere to be found.

Maybe it's all a facade. Maybe every night, what I don't get to witness is their grief-stricken trance, reaching to the side of the bed where you used to sleep only to be touched by emptiness. But maybe that's love in a shape of hope and living.

You loved them so much I know you'd want them to be happy. And they are, they really are. But everytime I look at them, my heart screams in pain. My heart breaks for you. Because it doesn't make any sense. You should be here, to witness their happy. You should be here, to witness their growth. You should be here. You should be with them. But you're not. You're not. Because life happened to you.

[forlornputato]

I guess we gonna pay for it.

Every truth we owe to people.

Every debt in the shape of a heart ache.

Every vile desire we set free.

Every trembling moment of fear & thrill.

All of them, slowly, making shrill cries for the people we once tossed. For the bodies we buried in shallow graves marked with headstones now making love and peace with poison ivy.

I guess we gonna pay for it.

Every piercing cry for every pound of mud.

Every love and hope snatched from such gentle eyes.

Every ill-intentioned stroke and talk.

Every wicked smile upon the anguished soul.

All of them, patiently, will creep back up, unbeknownst to the living. Curses and pleading and guilt until we're driven mad.

Oh good lord, we're gonna pay for it, aren't we?