Nothing But Squiggles

Wala akong masyadong alam tungkol sa ‘fashion’ kaya marahil wala akong karapatan manghusga kung anong maganda o bagay sa isang tao. Pero siguro naman kahit isang ordinaryong tao na walang kamuang-muang sa mga jeggings, DIY at ootd, alam naman siguro ang limitasyon sa pagdadamit at pagmake-up.

Patok ngayon ang mga shorts. May mga short shorts na, meron pang pekpek shorts at kung ano pang tawag sa mga shorts na yan. At dahil sunod sa uso ang karamihan, halos saan ka man tumingin lahat nakashorts. Wala naman talaga akong problema kung sa gusto lang talaga nila ipakita ang magaganda at makikinis nilang hita at legs. Ang sa akin lang naman, ilagay naman sana nila sa lugar. Nakakainis lang kasi makakita ng mga babae na gustong irespeto pero ni hindi man lang nag-aalinlangan magsuot ng maong na panty. Iyon bang tipong halos lahat na makita sa kanila tapos sila pa itong may ganang magreklamo ng pambabastos. Naku naman! Ayaw mong mabastos? Magdagdag ka kasi ng kahit na kapirangot na saplot sa katawan mo. Kung siguro nalaman ng mga ninuno natin habang tumatagal, paikli at paikli ang mga suot ng mga kababaihan, malamang pinahabaan pa nila ang suot ni Maria Clara. Baka nga naging kasinghaba pa ng mga traje de boda ang mga kasuotan noon.

Wala akong pakialam kung gusto ng iba ang magmake-up araw-araw. Panahon at pagod naman nila yun, hindi akin. Pero may ilan na sobra sobra na talaga. Yung bang tipo na alam mo na mayaman sila sa make up, na para bang ilang marka lang ang itinaas ng mukha nila kung ikukumpara sa drawing ng isang kindergarten. Hindi ko alam kung matatawa ba ako o magagalit o maawa. Malamang na hindi sila nakaharap sa salamin bago lumabas ng bahay. O baka tulog pa iyong utak nila nang magmake up sila. Meron pang iba na kung makaasta akala mo kung sinong maganda na sila, na porket nakamake-up na sila maganda na sila at may karapatan na silang manlait ng iba. Oo maganda ang pagkakamake-up niyo. Ba’t hindi niyo kaya subukan tanggalin? Malamang, hindi kagandahang asal lang maiiwan sa inyo. Pasensya na, pero talagang mas gusto ko lang ang mga maganda na walang kaartehan sa katawan, yung bang maganda pero hindi ipinagsisigawan na maganda sila.

Marahil may kasakitan ang mga nasabi ko. Marahil may natamaan, may napaisip, may nagalit, may nagkibit balikat. Ang gusto ko lang naman ay mailahad ang aking mga kaunting saloobin tungkol sa mga bagay bagay, gaano man ito kaliit o walang kwenta. Sana sa susunod na lumabas kayo ng bahay, tumingin muna kayo sa salamin kung mukha ba kayong desente, kung makakalakad ka ba sa harap ng maraming tao ng taas noo, kung hindi ka ba malalait o mababastos. Sana man lang, kahit papaano ay napaisip ka tungkol sa mga hinaing ko.

It’s probably too impulsive to say but I think 2014 just isn’t going to be my year. If it’s any indication, I had the worst New Year’s Eve celebration ever, not that I could really call it a celebration. The mood was not even close to what one would consider festive. Though fireworks lit the sky and bangs and booms from firecrackers filled the air, all I could really concentrate my mind on was the heavy pouring rain which seemed never to stop and my mother who have been sick after the end of the Christmas celebration. I spend the rest of the first day of 2014 in the hospital, crossing my fingers, hoping that nothing was seriously wrong with my mom. Guess my lucky stars ain’t cruising that night as I got a direct blow to my chest with the doctor telling us that a 15cm ovarian mass has been taking shelter in my mother’s remaining ovary. Somehow it made me question why her doctor didn't remove both of her ovaries when she had an operation ten years ago because if she did, I would have enjoyed the last vacation I will get in college, considering my last semestral break had been nothing but winds and rains and chaos and darkness and Yolanda.

My life had never been picture perfect. I played it along the safe side, nothing too spectacular or challenging or boring. It has been like these for as long as I can imagine and nothing might have prepared me for something as big as a series of unfortunate events. First came Yolanda, then my mother getting an operation, a strike in my father’s company and then here goes a field trip that will cost a fortune but will save me from the hassle of doing a term paper and my phone just went on a swimming trip.  And oh, next week, the result of the biopsy will be out and this time, I’m praying it will not be cancerous. I just wouldn't know what to do with my life if that happens.

My family from my mother’s side (the issue deserves a separate post) said that me and my brother was sort of chilling’ out while we wait for the operation to be over. Little did they know I have been silently praying, asking God for my mom to be okay. I never for once shed a tear, not they saw me anyway. Nobody knew how choked I am to stop myself from crying. I had to smile and laugh. After all, I’m so good with putting up a mask that it will seem like child’s play. I only allowed myself to breakdown once. It was the time when I got the chance to go home and pack my things. Naturally, nobody was home, except me and the eerie silence and my favorite teddy bear that had dried my tears since I was in high school. It was the only time during the whole ordeal that I let myself be vulnerable. You see, I had to be strong. It wasn't the choice I made. It was something the circumstances dictated.

I don’t know how downhill things could still go from here. I am pretty much convinced that this is the lowest point in my life. It just felt like some nightmare and I badly need to wake up. Some people might say this might not be as hard as life can get, but I say this is just plain hard for me. I don’t think I can hold up for a very long time. I can see myself nearly cracking at the edge. I just can’t imagine how worse things can still get. I don’t think I have enough energy or spirit left to sustain another fatal impact. But for now, I hope things would return to normal. You know, to the not picture perfect but okay life I had always lived. And I am hoping it will happen sooner rather than later. 

How do I tell you I love you without sounding so melodramatic? You always tell me I write too long a poem that you always skip to the end. Too bad you missed the best parts and never really know how much I love you.

I love you like a kid who wouldn’t stop crying until he got his favourite teddy bear back. But this I am certain of, I would never outgrow these feelings. I have tried, but always failed. I love you like how a writer is with his pen and words. For what is a writer without words to ease his aching soul? I couldn’t imagine what would become of me without you.

Just as days always turn into nights and nights to days, I would never run out of energy to tell you again and again that I love you.