My last decent post had been 3-4 years ago… before this journal was completely abandoned. I hope this is not my last post, but year after year, even though I always intended to go back, life and responsibilities always took priority. I am not young anymore, and my stamina is not as strong as before.
I suppose I should have expected this, my doctor commented about it, after all. But I did my best, in place of writing, I have hiking now, and regular yoga.
Which brings me to the reason why I’m here today. Aside from this long break I managed to snag. I am also 30 years old this year. And we all know that midlife crisis happens earlier now. But even so, even if this break is caused by a midlife crisis, I should be grateful I am experiencing it.
I never thought I would reach this age, actually. Not intact. Not in this way.
And this is why I am here. I am here to tell you/this journal that I made it. For once, I can safely say that I have transitioned from that stage, and that I will be okay. Whatever happened in the past and whatever happens in the future, I will be okay.
I am an adult now. I may not be the person I imagined myself to be. But I’m still here. The process, was hard, and required me to lose things I never thought I would lose. It was a hard bargain, but somehow, it happened. I want to say that it was not my choice, but the truth is, at the expense of fitting in, I had to lose the very thing I protected so dearly.
I have never improved my writing. There are moments too when I realized that it may actually have gone worse. Or maybe not worse, I just lost that tone— my voice, the kind of writing I had cultivated all my life. If there are any traces of it, I have yet to find it.
But that’s the thing I have to learn to accept, I guess. I am still a writer but I am not the writer that I used to be. And it is all my fault.
What did I realize after all those years? Even though, I had desperately wanted to fit in, I am always, in a way, an outsider. It could be because I am partly of another race and I don’t look like a typical Filipina, but mostly, because I don’t have the social skills. Haha. And it’s okay.
I am learning to be comfortable of my own skin. But at the same time, I cannot dismiss the importance of belonging, of valuing what makes me similar with other people. I guess, I have finally learned how to be human. But how to be an adult? I don’t know about that yet.
Maybe in the next few years, I’ll have an answer. I’ll let you know.
- Thu, 00:09: I have no idea where this story is going
- Thu, 00:10: RT @VeryShortStory: I removed the crown from your sleeping head and tried it on. It fit perfectly. Father said I was to be king but my hear…
- Thu, 00:10: heh heh
- Thu, 00:20: I just combined two cliches to create one big angsty plot, somebody kill mehhh
- Thu, 10:27: Actually, I was writing this according to a friend's request but then the story turned out completely different from the plan T_T
test. er... hi? just downloaded a livejournal app for android and somehow.... I can't seem to access all its features? ha ha.
I dreamt of my father again. For the first time in months. I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings because I didn’t know where we were headed. All I can grasp of my memory now is of medium sized boats, a pier, the sea and a beautiful sunset.
My father is still sick. But he’s not as thin as he was before he died. His room is bright, glass windows with white lace curtains and a view of the pier and the sea. He has a big white dog that needed to be restrained from visitors because the dog is too protective and will pounce on you if unrestrained.
I like to think that he was reborn somewhere. Somewhere by the sea. Living a simple life like he always wanted, like he always did. Maybe he’ll grow up to be something great, maybe he’ll grow up rowing those boats. I just wish… just wish that stress don’t kill him like in this lifetime too.