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lyn-justine-mendoza · 3 years ago

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A CANDID FLAME

LYN JUSTINE MENDOZA AUTOBIOGRAPHY:

"Why aren't you looking?"

"Those flames are quite appealing."

And why do I keep posing in this scenario while holding this shining candle that could cause me to harm if I did something wrong? Why am I still smiling when I just wanted to do the same as they did? Why did I not even get at least one photo that I could be proud of? Why. Maybe these lovely flames aren't for me after all. Or should I just claim that the other flame is the one I'm most proud of? Fire is one of my favorite things. As I previously stated, I adore red, but I despise blood, so I'm still doubting myself. Is it true that I adore the color red? Maybe I just like it since it's a color associated with hatred.

On March 10, 2005, the unfortunate flame was born and was given the name Lyn Justine Balbalosa Mendoza, with the letters LJBM, which stand for "Lenny, Jun Balbalosa Mendoza," a combination of my parents' nicknames. When I was getting older, I once got held by my mother, and the rest is in my grandmother's. My mom and dad were business holders in the province of Nueva Ecija, but I heard that when I came into the world, the tables were returned, and all of the money was taken by my father and spent with his mistress, believing I was not his child because of my skin. Because I'm too reddish, they might misinterpret me like a dark baby.

This is our very first photo as a family. My mother's name is "Alona Balderama Balbalosa," who lived in Irosin Sorsogon, Bicol, and my father's name was "Leopoldo Medestomas Mendoza Jr.", who lived in Nueva Ecijja, and this photo was taken at our home in Nueva Ecijja. When I became a kindergarten, I often saw my father, so at my age now, I used to feel nothing because I was already used to it. I'll tell you something: I'm a spoiled kid, but not the brat kind. I need to cry for a big mansion doll and a big cruise because they give me everything I want and can't say no to me.

My birthdays used to be celebrated with parties, and all of the students at my school wanted to be my friends, but when the year 2013 arrived, everything changed. Due to a shortage of funds, we had to suffer. Because we were all discussing the plans, I was given an absent one. I'm still in primary school. We were all unhappy when my mom had to go to Manila to watch our meat shop since we didn't have enough money to hire an employee, so we responded, "It's okay mom, we don't need money; we can be poor as long as we're still complete as a family." I agreed.

Maybe I'm just a blindfolded kid who doesn't need to know everything since I can get what I want, but did you know I used to pee in my bed and get in punishment because I couldn't tell them I was having a nightmare? Snowhite was my favorite princess, but she was my worst nightmare at night. She's chasing me in the forest, and every time she gets closer to me, I'm going to pee or fall in my bed and grieve quietly. In the morning, I'll think about it again.

When I walk into my classroom one day, everyone looks at me as if I were trash. No one dares to approach me. They seemed like real friends to me. I'm ashamed of myself. I kept back my tears until my next-door neighbor's son approached me. He was the ugliest guy I'd ever encountered at the time, and he was the one who wanted to pursue me when we were our age. He confessed that he had a crush on me. I have no idea what a crush is.

I looked at him, and he smiled and began to speak to me, "You were absent, and the teachers allowed us to play in the garden!" I've heard a lot of stories, but I'm not interested, but he moved closer to me and patted my shoulder, saying, "Are you okay?" When our classmates began to mock us, I gave them an awkward smile and they resumed their conversation with me.

Living in our house when our mother wasn't there caused me trauma over time. My father is a violent person. We were even evicted from our own home and are currently staying with our auntie, which is a disaster. I couldn't sleep on a mat with a fan or shower with nothing but a dipper and bucket. Why do I have both wealthy and poor experiences at my age, or do I understand what poor mean?

I accelerated to grade 2 in a public school in Manila when I was eight years old. When my mother discovered that our father was abusing us, she immediately booked us tickets to Manila, where we would begin a new life. I knew that when I was eight years old, I was placed in the highest section of the class. When my adopted elder sister leaves me at school, I cry, but I suppose that's a normal reaction for a kid left alone at school.

They were all attractive and intelligent. I used to get along with them, but then something horrible happen. That day, I was diagnosed with dengue. I hadn't been to class in two months due to a hospital charge, but I still passed the year and was promoted to grade 3. I'm not bragging when I say I had the kind of face that certain boys admired, and thus the handsome one used to give me food or whatever we needed in class, while the ugly one used to bully me.

My teacher was irritated with me because I allowed the bullies to continue to bully me. In fact, I'm afraid of them. I'm not willing to argue, so I just accept what they're saying. It was still my fault at the moment that the bullies wanted to bully me? The flames that keep the agony inside my body were fully accepted when I heard the word said to me when I was still a 9-year-old girl, "Why are you allowing him to molest you?" I glanced at my teacher.

"You're in favor of it. Is that what your so-called beauty is keeping you? What kind of girl are you, huh? "

I did what she asked for. I will not let anyone, man or woman, hurt me, and I will hurt them if they do. I'm good in school but not so much when I meet my friends, the ones who used me, and, of course, I used them back; I'm not the victim right now, but if I dig deeper, it appears that I am the victim here. I'm skipping classes to accommodate them, but I'm having a good time. I drink alcoholic beverages with them, yet I'm satisfied. I used an illegal substance when I was 15 years old. I've even smoked a cigarette and enjoyed it. It seems as if my body is awake when I inhale the cigarette.

My family is a member of Iglesia Ni Cristo, and I am as well. I had no fear of anyone at the moment, but I nearly died due to my stupidity. Not for the gang fights I used to participate in, but for overdosing on marijuana, which was a popular drug at the time.

That day, I was pursued throughout the entire campus. I wasn't afraid until the teacher found me, and that was only because of the kid. My mother was called, and they were shocked. They even stood up for me. I'm not going to say anything. I'm not as stupid as they think, but they use the card.

I'm worried about "we'll report you to your trustee in the locality of Luzon," and I'm starting to doubt myself. I'm not a bad person by any means. Every worship day in our church, I continue to believe in God and what the Iglesia teaches me.

"And if you don't tell me who your accomplices are, I'll file this proof with the cops, and you'll be arrested." I'm frightened, but where does hatred emerge from? I was taken aback when my mother approached me, hugged me, and asked, "Is the money I'm giving you used for this?" I expected her to say something pleasant.

"You're a disgrace to our family; you're like your father," she says, kissing me on the forehead and acting concerned. My rage has spread to every aspect of my body! She despised me but pretended to be concerned about me.

Yes, I am a disgrace.

I may be placed in the flame where I belong, but the others do not. I'm not satisfied with the flame that can be held by anyone. I'm looking for a flame where the stick is too little to contact the heat of its own burning stick.

Even if it's just for a split second, the fire that can cause a person to burn the flame that can make things beautiful. When I became tired of the flame that was keeping my hatred inside, the psychologist once spoke to me and said, "You are too beautiful outside and inside to feel those things; now close your eyes."

As I closed my eyes, she said, "You will not be burned by your own flames; instead, they will light you up. That way, you can still cause chaos on the people you want to harm, but with the ideal flame you are." I saw an old doctor talking to me when I opened my eyes, but when I closed my eyes, I felt that the flame in the stick was talking to me, and I gasped.

I began to create a new life for myself, surrounded by new friends. I'm attempting to control my rage while continuing to study. Even when they scream at me, I remain mute and sarcastically respond. It seems to be me. Right now, I'm content with my life. I don't mind if the other students make fun of me. I will not do anything that causes my eyes to be blindfolded once more. Now that I've stayed healthy throughout high school, I'm learning to enjoy my flame.

It seems like heaven when I meet friends that keep me calm in a group of people who have a large ambition ahead of them, the individual feelings. They believe in me, they don't despise me, and they respect me for who I am.

As I rebuilt myself, I recollect being burned by my own fire, yet I imagine those flames are still here. And it's because of those fires that I'm still alive. Furthermore, those things are the worst things that have ever happened to me, but that does not mean they are the end of my existence.

There is no more important obligation than returning gratitude. We can only be said to be alive when our hearts are aware of our treasures. Whatever our specific problems and challenges may be, it's crucial to take a minute to appreciate everything we have, on all levels.

We must literally "count our blessings," express gratitude for them, allow ourselves to enjoy them, and appreciate the wealth we already have.

And today, as a grade 11 student pursuing my goals, I met a man who taught me how to take charge of the things I couldn't handle on my own. I doubt my rage would keep me from behaving this way if he weren't here.

Julyann Kurt Lois Batallones, he is the man of my dreams. We're both too young to appreciate anyone like this, but let me tell you something. Let us be grateful to those who bring us joy; they are the delightful gardeners who help our souls bloom. When we realize that a major part of our success is due to the loyalty, assistance, and encouragement we've gotten from others, our desire to pass on comparable gifts rises.

Gratitude motivates us to prove that we are deserving of what others have done for us. Gratitude has a great energizing effect. I'm confident that by the conclusion of these years, I'll have accomplished my goals. My past trade will never be written in the future. Our own light dims from time to time, only to be renewed by a spark from another individual.

Each of us has reason to be grateful to those who have sparked the flames within us.

#autobiography #flame #reality

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