The Lifelong Stupor

Four years ago, I decided to create this blog so that I could put my feelings into words. I had hoped to experience some form of catharsis every time i create an entry, and usually that's what happens. It works most of the time. Yet sometimes, I just forego everything and choose to keep it all inside. Like when the emotions that I have been feeling are caused by nothing but petty annoyances. Or when the thing that upsets me is something that I experience again and again, that putting those feelings into words every time would only make me sound redundant. If I created a blog entry every time my father upsets me, I’d have close to a thousand entries by now… and that’s a pretty conservative estimate. This blog is already more than four years old. If I wrote about him every time he upsets me, like the way i did a few years ago, I’d probably have more than a thousand entries. One for every day that has passed for the past four years. That's how much he upsets me. That's how often my dad manages to piss me off.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that he loves us. Like most parents, i know that he would do just about anything for his kids. I can recognize the fact that he’s trying to reach out. I can see that he’s trying to make up for all those years that he never reached out. But all his efforts only seem useless, because it’s all a little too late. I never felt close to him as I was growing up, and no amount of effort on his part could make me feel closer to him now. I also recognize his sincerity. All those years, I could see that he really strives hard to provide for us, but he just kept on doing the wrong things... again and again and again. Thus all his efforts to be a good father only seem worthless.

For one thing, he keeps on chasing rainbows.

For as long as I can remember, he keeps on saying the same things. He’s about to get loads of cash. A huge fortune is gonna come his way. All my life, he keeps on saying the same things. I know I should be used to all that by now, but the fact that he keeps on saying the same things for almost 30 god damned years makes it even more unsettling. He’s devoted his entire life to these certain people, with the promise of a huge payback anytime soon. But the thing is, that payback never came. Days have turned into weeks and into years, years have turned into decades, and there’s still no payback in sight. But to him, that payback is already around the corner… the same place that it was for the past couple of years.

He keeps living in a dream world.

And that really pisses me off. Sometimes I wonder if I should hit him hard in the face in order for him to wake up to reality. But with the level of stupor that he’s in, I doubt if that could even be enough. I doubt if anything could even be enough. Nothing could awake a man who's in such deep slumber. He’s an intelligent man, and I just can’t figure out why he’s so entrenched in such stupidity. Before I left last year he told me I didn’t have to look for work in another country. A huge fortune was already coming, and he could build a hospital for me if I wanted him to. I didn’t even look at him as we’re driving to the airport. I couldn’t even acknowledge him. i couldn't even give him that for it might give him a little bit of satisfaction. It might give him the impression that I believed him, that i believed in him. When he was taking me to the airport again last June, he kept saying the same things again. The exact same things. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. And he was deeply entrenched in his dream world that he didn’t even notice that I wasn’t listening. That I didn’t even care. He fails to see that I want to live my own life, and I had no desire to be a part of his life, whether it’s real or imaginary. He never noticed that we have all grown tired.

of his fantasies.

of his preposterous ambitions.

and the fact that he doesn’t know how to set his priorities.

Amidst all the grief that we were feeling when my grandmother passed away, we have managed to make room for another set of emotions. Those emotions were fueled by our hatred towards him. Before my grandpa died, he was given a huge sum of money to fund the mausoleum for my grandparents. When our grandpa died, his coffin was placed within a pile of hollow blocks, but he promised that the mausoleum would be finished in a month. During that time, he ran for a local government position. And as we expected, he lost terribly. In the interim, my grandma wanted to see the mausoleum for herself, because my dad kept saying it was finished, and that it looked beautiful. It looked elegant. But he always told her he was too busy campaigning and he had no time to take her there. My grandma died two months after. She never got to see that elegant mausoleum. We didn't get to see it either. We buried her within a pile of wood and hollow blocks. That was supposed to be the beautiful mausoleum that he kept telling her. Just like the huge fortune that was always coming his way, that mausoleum was also a figment of his imagination.

We weren’t stupid. The money that was given to him was more than enough to build a mausoleum. We believed that he used up all that money for his campaign. He used up all that money to fulfill one of his stupid lifelong ambitions. He wanted to fulfill his quest for wealth and power. Never mind if it was such a long shot. He just had to do it, no matter what. There was no other logical explanation. Of course he denied all this, with tears flowing through his eyes, saying he was deeply hurt that we would even think that he was capable of such a thing. But how the hell could we believe him? He had no job, he had no money to fund his campaign. Where the heck did he get all that money that he used?! If anything, those tears represented all the guilt that he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt because we accused him of such a terrible thing. He felt guilty because he has done such a terrible thing. We didn’t care if he chose to remain in his dreamworld all our lives. He could have easily brought us all down with him, but our grandmother was there to keep us from falling with him. Now he gets all the money from our grandparent’s tenants. He gets a lot of money, yet he never gets to save anything. He gets a lot of money from the tenants, yet somehow he still fails to pay the bills on time, and that me and my brother have to use our own money to pay for some of our household expenses. It’s all gone in an instant, because he needs every cent to fund his expensive lifestyle. He needs every cent to impress the people around him. He needs every scent to maintain the impression that he has a lot of money. He needs so much money to pay for our estate tax, yet he doesn’t allocate funds for that. For someone who is unemployed, he was very lucky that the bank gave him a loan, but that loan still isn’t enough to pay for the estate tax. The deadline is only several months from now, but still he acts as if there’s nothing to worry about. And to add insult to injury, he’s planning an expensive family trip for all of us abroad, and when I asked my mom where the hell is he going to get the money for that, I was surprised by what she said. He was planning to use part of the money that the bank loaned to him… even if that money still wasn’t enough to pay for the taxes. I shouldn’t even be surprised. I’ve known this man for years, and he’s really like that. Nothing should surprised me anymore.

He’s a man with no direction.

He’s a man with blind ambition.

He’s a man who can’t get his priorities straight.

He’s the man that I would never ever want to become.

I remember one instance many summers ago. We were on our way home from our family vacation. 70's music was playing on the radio. My dad was driving the car, talking to my mom. My siblings were asleep, and I was pretending to be asleep. They were talking about us, and I heard him say to my mom that there was nothing he would not do for his children. All these years, all we ever wanted was for him to wake up. All we ever wanted was for him to change. If he would really do anything for us, why the hell can't he even do something as simple as that.

All my life, I've heard so many lies and fabrications from my dad. Plus a lot of wishful thinking in between. I guess it wouldn't come as a surprise that those words that he spoke to my mom many summers ago were nothing but lies as well.

All Rage and Fury

I used to be that sort of person. The one who just lets things pass. The one just keeps everything in stride. The one who can still manage to smile even when everything is boiling deep inside. That was me back then. And this is me now.

In recent years, it’s becoming harder and harder to keep the anger inside. It’s just that I’ve become pissed with so many things in my life, and one thing just tends to aggravate all the others. When I’m trying to contain all that anger inside me, it all builds up. And every now and then, I could no longer contain the pressure, and I just burst from the slightest provocation. But after that I feel fine again. All the anger has gone away. All that’s left is an empty vessel, ready to be filled up again.

It used to take such a long time before that vessel is all filled up. But these past few weeks, I’ve been losing my temper way too often. Ever since I’ve had the taste for blood on my grandmother’s funeral march, ever since I’ve experienced that unique feeling of exhilaration… I seem to have been looking for it. For the past couple of months, almost every time that I have been driving during rush hour, I engage in a shouting match with several stupid drivers. And it’s not just purely shouting. I immediately get out of my car, shouting at the other driver, taunting him, telling him to get out of his fucking car and face me like a man. And every time, I’m ready to fight. Every time, I want to fight. And all those times, the other person always backs off. No one seems to have to guts to fight a seemingly crazy person shouting hysterically in public, for all the world to see. Then there was this one time at the gym last week, when I got so annoyed with this guy who kept on grunting loudly every time he was lifting weights. I got so pissed off that I shouted at him, telling him that if he didn’t stop all that annoying grunting, I was going to shut him up permanently. Everyone looked at me, and i didn't care. all I wanted to do was to fight. This guy was bigger than me in every way. Taller than me. Way more muscular than me. There was no way I was going to win a fight with this guy, he could easily beat me to a pulp. Yet I didn’t care. All I wanted was to fight. I wasn’t thinking anymore. All I wanted was to release my anger, I didn’t care anymore if I would get hurt in the process. I had no regard for safety. It’s not just about that great feeling you get when your anger is released. It's not just about that great feeling you feel when you beat up somebody. It's not just about that great feeling you get when you've won a battle based on strength. I was looking for something more. Maybe subconsciously, I do want to get hurt. I want to punish myself, because subconsciously, I’ve been telling myself that I deserve to get hurt. I’ve done so many mistakes in my life, I haven’t done so many things that I should have done, I’ve hurt so many people both intentionally and unintentionally… and I feel that I have to get hurt. I feel that I have to suffer. It’s not enough that I keep beating myself up. Others have to beat the hell out of me as well. I do not deserve all the great things that have happened to me. I don’t deserve such care, such love. I keep wallowing on self pity, yet it’s still not enough. This could just be the result of all the sorrow and grief that I’ve been feeling for the past few months… and all that anger only creates a greater turbulence of emotions. This may just be a phase, I don’t know. All I know is I’ve been feeling so low lately. Maybe someone has to hit me hard on the head to get me out of it. maybe someone has to totally beat me up and leave me for dead to make me realize how pathetic i have been acting lately. But I know that I do not deserve such a quick escape. Maybe to continue wallowing in pain and sorrow is exactly the type of punishment that I deserve. Maybe I haven't suffered enough. Maybe i deserve to suffer more.

Maybe.

Hereafter

I've been spending the last couple of days in my grandma's room. I've been sleeping there for the past two nights as well. It's funny how everyone else seems to be afraid to be left alone inside her room. Somehow, being inside her room gives me comfort. Staying in her room fills me with grief... the rush of painful memories is just too much for me to bear... but it gives me an odd sense of comfort as well.

I really don't understand why my parents and my siblings are behaving that way. I guess people who are not in the medical field see things differently. they are prone to religious manipulations, and are more receptive to folklore and superstitions. i don't believe in ghosts. i don't believe in spirits who choose to remain with the living because they still can't move on for whatever reason. With the number of deaths that I have witnessed, with the number of times i spend alone in dark and secluded places, if those entities were real, i would have seen one by now. Every now and then i hear people saying that they have seen ghosts, that they have seen departed loved ones... in my head, I just keep on saying bullsh*t. There is absolutely no proof. All we have are anecdotes, people swearing by what they thought they have seen, but with absolutely no tangible evidence to support their pronouncements. It's been well documented that people are prone to experience visual and auditory hallucinations whenever they are stressed, whenever they experience much grief. I have tried to explain this to my mom, to my aunt, to my cousins who have sworn that they've seen their departed loved ones reaching out to them. but even with sufficient evidence, when it comes to the battle between what's real and what's only an illusion, people would still choose to believe what they want to believe. I can't really say I blame them. When the truth hurts as much as it does sometimes, it is better to believe in lies when they give us so much comfort.

My family believes that my grandma's presence is still in her room. That's the exact words of my dad. Let's say for the sake of argument, she still is. her spirit is still with us. I am willing to suspend my disbelief. I just can't understand why they are so afraid of her. She played a big part in all our lives. She played such a big part in my life. How I can I possibly be afraid of her. If it's true that she's still there, i would spend more time there, talking to her, trying to reach out to her. And that's exactly what i have been doing for the past few days. i suspended my disbelief, and tried to reach out to her.

Most of the time I just sit on her chair. Looking at her photo albums, watching TV, eating a snack, but most of the time i just sit there doing nothing. i try talking to her, asking her how she felt about me, if she was angry, if she was disappointed. I tell her how sorry I am for not doing enough. for never doing enough. but most of the time, i just sit there, in silence. And then without warning and without any provocation, I always start to cry. There were still so many things that i wanted to do, and so many things that I wanted to say, but i just couldn't. Because the belief that she's still here with us is nothing but superstition. I never wanted to admit this, but everyone knows that i was her favorite grandchild, and I just find it impossible to believe that she reached out to our family driver, that she made her presence felt to our housekeeper, but she never tried to reach out to me. The things that they say they've seen, the noises that they say they've heard, the things that they say they've felt--- all of those things are nothing but figments of their overly active imaginations, because their minds have been programmed to react in such a way. Because the minds of most people have been programmed to react in such a way when faced with death. All those hours that i spend inside her room, those two nights that i cried myself to sleep in her bed, all those times that i have been talking to her, crying out to her, and i never got any answer. not even one small sign that she could hear everything that i have been saying. I try to convince myself that she's still there, but i never got any confirmation. Because all those stories are just lies after all. Lies created by people to give themselves comfort. Lies that are passed on in every generation, so that it would be easier for all of us to cope with such loss. So that it would be much easier for us to move on. We pretend that it's not really too late because there's still an afterlife, and our loved ones are still watching us, guiding us as we go on with our lives. We pretend that it's never too late because they can still hear us say thanks, they can still hear our apologies. But it's all just a myth. There is no afterlife. Upon death, there is only nothing. We created this selfish fantasy so that we could feel good about ourselves. So that we could get rid of the grief... so that we can be free from the guilt. so that we can avoid all the pain that we deserve, all the hurt that we should be feeling indefinitely. We can say thanks, we can ask for forgiveness, we can tell them how much we love them, we can tell them all the things that we never told them when they were still alive... we can tell them all those words that would have mattered if we had told them when we could still hold their hands, when we could still see their smiles, when they could still answer back... but all this would be futile, because all those words wouldn't reach anyone. We could still make believe and convince ourselves otherwise, but the truth is, it's all just a myth. it's all make believe. It's all bullsh*t. I can no longer reach her, no matter how hard i try... because she is long gone.

And that only makes the guilt, the loneliness, and the pain that i have been feeling so much harder to bear.

Poignant.

here comes the rain again
falling from the stars
drenched in my pain again
becoming who we are

as my memory rests

but never forgets what I lost
wake me up when September ends.

Eternal Lament

All alone, I walk on this road to nowhere
Weighed down by all the guilt and regret.
I look on beyond all that’s left behind
As I try to move on, as I try to forget.

I feel her warmth as the sun burns my face.
When she was still here, I always found my place.
As the wind blows I hear her whisper.
The last words that she spoke, I will always remember.

I feel her caress as the wind blows through my cheeks
She gave me all her strength whenever I felt weak.
I sat on the ground, finally beaten and weary.
too late to say goodbye, too late to say I was sorry.

If I choose to turn back, all that I would find is nothing.
That’s all that is left of what was once my everything.
If I choose to remain still, maybe things would turn out well
Until the storm has passed, I’ll remain inside my shell.

If only there was a way to turn back time
I could be free from this personal damnation.
I could try to erase all past mistakes.
I could have listened to the voice of reason.

I convince myself that I’m perfectly fine
But it’s just so damn hard to pretend.
I may move on, but I can never forget
For so many words were left unsaid in the end.

09/15/10

Grey Skies

I've been back in the dumps for a few days now, and I'm hating every minute of it. The disdain that I have felt towards this place has grown incrementally through the years, and now I've reached the point that I can't possibly be any more jaded. For the past few days I have been confined to my room, and honestly, I prefer it this way. To heck with boredom, to heck with monotony. As dull as it may seem, this is actually more convenient. And this is the easiest way to avoid confrontation.

During the few times that I went outside, I just couldn't help but feel pissed off. I mean, who wouldn't when everywhere you look, all you'll see is disarray. A stupid and completely f*cked up government. utter mismanagement on all possible levels. Mass media without an ounce of responsibility, only self righteousness. Citizens who are apathetic. People behaving like savages. People driven by greed and nothing else. People who fail to see their mistakes, let alone admit them. Everywhere I look there is chaos. Maybe it's because I was away for so long, that I was no longer used to such disarray. Until I've learn to adapt to such savagery again, i guess it would be best to just stay in my own little universe for now. Every time i go out, I feel as if my head is going to explode. This is what's best for whatever's left of my sanity.

The other reason... i choose to stay in my own little world to avoid loneliness. The same loneliness that I felt two months ago when I left. More than anything else, I needed to leave because i just had to get away from it all. And for the most part, it worked. During those two months that I was away from home, there were only three instances that I felt depressed. The first part was the extension of the grief and mourning resulting from my grandmother's passing. Coupled with the feelings of guilt and regret, it was hard to escape from depression. But I've managed to keep myself busy and therefore divert my attention to other things, and the distance helped a lot. Being far away with no contact to the people at home, it was easy to pretend that things remained as they were. The next instance was when I got my exam result. Yeah, I passed, and some have said that passing alone was already a cause for celebration... but I barely passed. And that sucked so much because my grandma paid for that exam, and again she's the one who funded my trip posthumously... I couldn't help but feel that I let her down again. What even makes it harder to accept is the fact that I have been studying for that exam for 6 months, and a few weeks before the exam I felt that I was really prepared for it... and then it happened. Some of my friends said that it's not my fault. After all, i wasn't in my right state of mind when i took the exam. truth be told, i wasn't really thinking half the time I was taking it... i guess it's a miracle that I managed to pass. But I was counting on a high score on that exam to boost my resume, and I blew it. I can't help but feel that even after my grandmother's death, I still keep on disappointing her. That fact alone makes it so much harder to bear.

The last instance that I felt lonely was those few hours that I was waiting at the airport for my flight back home. That was when reality had set in. In a few hours, I'll be back to the place of anger and loneliness, to the place i despised for so many reasons. I'll be back to once again face the things that I would rather leave behind. And when i got back, i chose to continue the strategy that I have been doing for the past couple of months, which is avoidance. As long as i remain inside my room, it's easier to pretend that nothing has changed. For the past few months, this is where I spent most of my days anyway. Just studying and doing nothing. I just go out every now and then to check on my grandma. And after spending a couple of minutes with her, I'm back in my room, doing my usual routine, oblivious to the world outside. As long as I remain inside my room, it's easier to think that nothing has changed. As long as i remain here, it's easier to pretend that everything is all right.

Everything was fine until I made that stupid decision to go inside her room. When I sat on her bed, the emotions came flooding back in. There it was, the reality that I have been avoiding for the past couple of days. There it was, the reality that i almost forgot when I was several thousand miles away. The pain and loneliness were as fresh as they were two months ago. I used to laugh when I see similar scenes in movies, yet there I was doing exactly what those actors were doing. Crying as I hugged her clothes, crying as I was looking at old photographs, crying as I embraced her pillows. Besides memories, all that remained in her room was emptiness. Despite all the clutter, all that remained was nothingness. All that's left is a void that couldn't be filled with anything, and that's what makes it so hard to accept.

If only life had a fast forward button, I'd be pressing it right now. For me to move on, I need to be far away from this place because it brings out nothing but the worst in me. It's causing such a drain in my emotions that I am left being incapable of doing anything else. All the anger and loneliness would keep on consuming me until I am left with nothing. A year from now I should be out of here, and hopefully it's for good. And if the myth of heaven turns out to be true, a year from now when my grandma looks down on me, she'll finally see a grandson that she could truly be proud of. For now, I am still the exact same person when she left. For now, I am still the same. But i'm looking forward to a brighter future, though I'm still unsure of what lies ahead. I am hoping for the best, things can't possibly grow any worse. Hopefully, by this time next year, my life would no longer be the mess that it is now. Hopefully, a year from now, I will no longer be me.