Found then Lost

When I graduated from university in 2014, I was filled with ambitions and goals to destroy a particular person. Being fueled by anger and rage isn’t really a viable source of energy. I burnt out. I had nothing and no one to hang onto, so I fell into a hole. After struggling for a year, I met some interesting people in a café near my place. Since my mother was a pain in the ass (she still is), I kept going back to them. First, they became close acquaintances because we talked about coffee. They got me to convert to speciality coffee rather than drinking shitty Starbucks coffee. From there, we talked about things that you would normally hear in a café in Europe like philosophy, economics, religion, literature, sociology, politics, etc.

From acquaintances, we became friends who asked about each others’ day or life. We gave each other encouragements and laughs. We’d talk for hours and hours about work, family, and university. It was like that for so many months until finally, I thought of them as a family.

Coming from a shitty family with shitty parents and no siblings, they were the closest thing I had to a family. We would care for each other. Truly care for each other. If something bad happened at home, they would come to the café to seek comfort. Heck, that was my reason why I kept going there every day. I would be there from the time they’d open to the time they’d closed. It was then that I realised three things about a family. You are either born into a family, make your own family, or find a new family.

I found a new family, and I was really happy that I did.

Then, something happened. The energy in our group became less and less. And, fewer and fewer people were coming back. Until one day, the café closed. Without a home, the family was cast away like evicted people on the streets. I saw them less not because it was difficult to see them (it was relatively easy) but because I didn’t know where they were hanging out.

After months of hiatus, the old café was declared bankrupt, and a new café would take its place. I was excited to see all of my old friends. I was excited to get that old life back. I was excited to have my family back again. But there was one thing that I didn’t take into account.

Time moves forward and so do the people with it. It was naive of me to think that nothing would change. It was childish to think that people would wait for me. During the hiatus, my friends were still in touch with each other. I, on the other hand, drifted further from them. And to top it all off, I had gotten incredibly ill. I had to stay at home for a month just to regain my strength.

My absence from everyone drove me away from them, and I just didn’t know how to catch up. I couldn’t tell them to wait for me because what kind of a dickbag friend would I be if I did?

I came to the new cafe every day as always. But then, staying there for hours on end became painful and uncomfortable. Everyone was closer with each other, and it felt like I was back at square one.

What really drove a stake through my chest was how friendly everyone was to this new girl. She achieved a level of friendliness that I never could, and she did that in the few months she knew everyone. I knew everyone for two years, and I still felt like an outsider.

As the months passed, my visiting hours at the cafe dwindled. I used to be there every night. The cafe would be packed with the regulars, and they’d share laughs and stories. Now, just being in the same room with all of them makes me feel small.

So, I started to slip away as naturally as I could. From every day to every other day, to every two days, to every five days, to every week. Now, once every two weeks.

I don’t even visit at night because I know everyone would be there, so I go as early as I can. The cafe is practically empty at opening hours save for the barista or the co-owner. Sometimes, I only go there if someone asks me when I’m not busy or if I have no coffee at home.

I feel much better now that I spend less time with them. Having my own bag of beans and coffee making equipment at home saves me tons of money. It’s also a good reason not to visit the cafe. I have lost those friends as my family, but I fell in love with a girl. Those friends of mine can’t give me what my girlfriend gives me, so I’m happy.

I Wait for Nobody

A couple of days ago, my mother and I were visiting Churches as a part of Christian tradition. I’m a Buddhist so I didn’t really get into it. We finally took a break in a McDonald’s near one of the churches.

From out of nowhere, my mother told me, “If you go abroad, I might transfer to Cebu.”

I thought to myself, “Okay. I honestly could care less since you’re inheriting grandfather’s land and property anyways.”

But then she followed up with, “You shouldn’t go right away. Maybe it’s not God’s plan that you should go right away. We have to fix some things.”

That pissed me off so much. I wanted to tell her, “I will never wait for you.” But instead, I said, “No. I’m not waiting anymore. I’ve already sent 54 applications just for yesterday.”

***

These sort of things pisses me off so much. I will never wait for ANYONE. I will leave people behind for my chance to achieve my dream. No one will hold me back. When my mother told me to stay behind, I suddenly felt this anchor around my neck. What kind of mother stops their children from progressing in life?

This isn’t the first time she’s stopped me from going overseas. The first time was during my freshman year at DLSU. I was supposed to migrate to Australia with my mother’s friends. I would study medicine and be a nurse. That was the plan until my mother stopped me from going. The second time was when a friend of mine invited me to study Chinese with her in China for a year while we taught English. Again, my mother stopped me from going.

I had an inkling that I was alone in this venture to Japan, and my mother’s words just set that idea in stone. She has lifted that cloud of doubt. I am alone in this.

*Featured image from http://www.us-japan.org/resources/usjapanlinks/education/

Fantasy Family

This is gonna be a short one or maybe a long one. I guess it depends on my level of interest.

I don’t have a perfect family, and I don’t like it. Some people would think that I’m lucky enough to even have a family or even have a proper childhood, but that shouldn’t stop me from complaining, right? It shouldn’t stop me from saying that although my parents raised me, fed me, clothed me, and even hurt me that I would want better parents. I want my family to be better.

But what would that entail? We would need to get a family therapist, meaning we would need to spend time, money, and effort to fix this broken relationship. Oh, and emphasis on money. Money broke this family apart, and I highly doubt that my father would want to spend money to try to fix it.

I’m a don’t-cry-over-spilt-milk type of person. That means if something is broken and can’t be fixed (like spilt milk), then move on. Move forward because crying over it will only hold you back. There’s nothing I can do to fix this family if 2-out-3 them don’t want it fixed. So, what happens?

That’s where these two, Running Man and Wil Dasovich, come in. They are my fantasy family. They are how I picture what a caring family is. Watching them makes me feel like I’m part of the family I’ve always wanted. Is it unhealthy? I dunno. I feel happy when I watch them and disappointed when I’m with my real family, so you tell me.

Everyone Gets Older

First photo shot with my instax <3 I seriously thought my mom was 42-years-old >.> Happy Birthday!

When The Conditions Are Too Perfect

Written on March 24

Today was a rainy day. I love the rain. It makes everything nice and cool to the skin; it’s quite relaxing. The sound of the raindrops on the leaves are so therapeutic. So how did I respond to this? I popped the kettle on the stove and made myself a cuppa tea, and warmed up some sweet ensaymada that my mom brought with her from Cebu. I switched on my laptop, threw my headphones on and worked on my final papers for my classes.

Everything was going swimmingly until my iTunes chose to play ART-SCHOOL. For you to understand what I’m going to share to you, you have to listen to one of their songs. It’s a Japanese band by the way.

Continue reading “When The Conditions Are Too Perfect”