Monday, March 28, 2011

Time for a Cool Change

Ever get the feeling that nobody likes you?

It's either you're too hot-headed, too impatient, selfish or immature?

Hop on board, mate! You are not alone.

I am hot-headed.

I don't like stupid people. I don't like people asking too many questions. I bark at people who don't get my instructions the first time and have to ask me again. I detest people who shout too much and who are always noisy. I don't like it when people do something that I don't approve of. I hate it when people tell me that what I'm doing is wrong. I don't like people shouting at me. I don't like it when people don't believe what I say.

I am impatient.

I don't like waiting for an answer to my question. I hate it when people don't know what to do next. I don't like waiting for an answer to the question "when do we turn right or left?". If you can't answer the question "where do we eat?" then let's just not eat at all.

I am selfish.

I always like it my way. I always want to be the comfortable one. I don't think of others' feelings just as long as I'm happy (as told to me). I rarely think that I am wrong. Most of the time, other people are wrong.

I am immature.

I am not ready for a major commitment. I do not know how to handle serious issues. I react to things the way a six-year-old would usually do.

I am all those and more.

But I want to change. I need to change. Everybody hates me. Yes, it's time for a cool change.

I need to understand people more. I need to be more patient. I need Anger Management. I need to count one to five before answering questions or replying to a question that I just answered. I need to start thinking that I am not better than everybody else. I am not all that and that is a fact.

When people ask me something, it is because they want to know what the answer is and not just to annoy me. When people can't answer promptly, that just means they're thinking about what the answer is and not just to make me wait.

I need to change. I want to change.

If I change, will people like me now?

Will you like me now?

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Friday, March 25, 2011


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I'm out.

I don't know if I have anything left.

I am consumed by nothingness. That's what she said. Or that's what she seems like saying.

I don't have anything more to give. I am empty.

I seem to not have anything more to contribute for us to get to that other level. I am useless. I am dead weight on her shoulders. Empty but heavy. That is me. That's what she said.

Is she correct? I don't know. I really don't know.

All I know is that I tried. I gave my best. I pulled my weight. I contributed. Or so I thought. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm always wrong. That's what I'm thinking now.

How can I think that I'm always right? I'm not always right. Yes, I may not always be wrong. But I am not always right.

I think.

I feel shackled. I feel like a prisoner. Always being scolded. Unliked and afraid. Afraid to do or say things that I usually do because I might hurt her. I don't want to hurt her. That is the last thing on my mind. That, for me, is my sole purpose in life now--not to hurt her.

But I still end up doing so. Even with my wings clipped, I still manage to hurt her.

I don't understand how I could do that still. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Or am I still doing anything right?

I'm empty. I don't know what to do next. I am clueless. I'm out of ideas.

Maybe I just don't know how to love.

Yeah, maybe that's it.

I don't know how to love. I don't have anything to give. I am empty.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

I am not the favorite child.

Read somewhere:

I am not loved.

Yes. It is what it is.

And I've learned how to deal with it. I learned how to count by counting how many times I breathed in and out just so I could regain control over my emotions. Biology was taught to me the time I found out that my chromosomes were totally different from my siblings. I was educated on History by the ridiculous number of times I was asked why I was born--in my face and probably more times behind my back.

Anatomy was taught to me by the bruises all over my body which I patiently waited on to heal every morning before I went to school. I know enough about Economics by comparing my siblings' bank accounts with my own pathetic bank account.

That's how I was built. That's how I was educated. This is why I am me.

I did not learn how to hear in school. I only knew one tone. The shouting tone. Yes, even the mere act of asking a question merited shouts from my parents. I stopped asking questions when I was 11. It's been a more quiet existence ever since. Except for the times I get shouted at for other reasons. Reasons that I never understood. Hey, they taught me how to be me, what am I doing wrong then? Oops, I asked a question.

I always wanted to be like my older brother. But the gap grew further and further as the years went by. Maybe because I was an underachiever. Or that's what I kept on hearing every time relatives were in the house to visit. As I stopped asking questions by then, I never knew if they were really talking about me. I heard my name being mentioned a couple of times but I hoped they were just looking for me as I was busy hiding inside my room.

My breakfast consisted of reminders on what I did wrong the previous day. My lunch was always served hot through reminders on the wrong things I did for the day. Dinners were pretty quiet because I always made it a point to leave the house after lunch and just come back when everyone was already sleeping. This is the time when I usually reflect on the wrong things I did that day.

My siblings are all wiser than me. They moved out even before the parents got old and semi-senile. Maybe that's my karma. I was an underachiever. I couldn't afford to move out.

Sometimes I think I brought all these upon myself. Most of the time I am reminded by my parents. They actually don't say this to my face anymore. They just show it by being kinder to my siblings when they decide to go home once a month. I always tell myself, "It's just once a month that you feel like you're not the favorite kid. You can do it." I have learned to lie to myself, you see.

My only consolation is death. Their's or mine. Whose evers come first. I don't even know if that last sentence is correct. Grammatically, I mean. Maybe they'll die first since they're older. Maybe I'll die next week because of high cholesterol. Death is indeed the greatest equalizer.

Those who know me, please don't worry. I am not inviting death to our house nor am I seeking it. Life is too precious, according to friends. I believe them though. THEIR lives are precious. Mine? I am just a statistic. Unemployed. Still living with the parents. Voted "Most Likely To Grow Bald First in High School". Not the favorite child.

I have decided to see the silver lining in my situation though. I will now stop caring. If I get scolded because of something that is not really "scoldable" in most households then I shall not care. I will look at them blankly in the eye and move on to the next situation in my life. I may be scolded again, but this time it would feel better. Because I will not care.

I am not the favorite child. But do not pity me. Because I am you.


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