Funny Thing Called Love

I guess it's about time i resurrected this long dormant blog. Nope, contrary to popular belief, i have not committed suicide. So to that person who posted that comment, this should be proof enough. I'm still alive and very much kicking thank you very much. Well yeah, i have booze and drugs to thank for that, something i'm not proud of... but those things keep me sane during those times that  I'm about to lose my sanity. Because of those things i manage to remain functional. As long as I use them in moderation, they keep me stable instead of going on a downward spiral.

Well what do you know, i had no blog entry for the year 2013. It's not as if nothing much happened that year--- far from it. It's just that I've grown quite lazy. Before this blog was one of my outlets to let out the things I kept inside. I guess coke and weed were enough, there was no need to let all those things out in a blog. Aside from being the year when i've grown quite fond of May Jane and her ilk, 2013 was also the year i've rediscovered love. Sure i've been in quite a few relationships, but this was only the second time i've fallen real hard over someone. And to this day i'm not really quite sure why and how. i didn't even like her at first, but the was just so damn persistent that she managed to crack me open. And when she managed to do that, it's as if the floodgates had been opened. She gave me a totally different experience and i couldn't get enough of it. After that happy phase, I was treated horribly, once she got what she wanted i was discarded like some piece of trash, and i still didn't get the message. i was fucking used and i still didn't feel angry. How the heck could i have fallen so hard for someone who was so selfish and undeserving? How could i have stupid for so long that i couldn't even see the signs? maybe it was because that was the first time i couldn't get what i really wanted. Maybe because it had been a long long time since I have experienced rejection, everything was just so unreal. I kept throwing myself at her, and that only pushed her farther away. I mean, putting myself in her shoes, i would find the way I behaved back then extremely annoying. And like a pathetic fool i kept hoping that she would have me back, especially when i saw that my "replacement" was so much of a downgrade. But love is inherently blind i guess--- Because i was blinded as well. I refer to that first quarter of last year as my crazy phase. How else would i explain falling so hard for a person who was clearly beneath me in every possible way. Definitely, that was a case of temporary insanity. I'm so glad I was able to recover.

Love is a funny thing. Around that same time, one of that person's friends became my confidante. It's but natural i guess, to seek comfort in one of her friends to gain some sort of understanding. Who else could help me understand her? Unexpectedly, this best friend of hers fell in love with me, i don't even know why. She keeps telling me i'm perfect, that i'm all this and i'm all that, and it only made me feel very uncomfortable... and quite guilty because even though it was unintentional, i guess i led her on because i always kept her company. Here was a person who was throwing herself at me, yet i kept longing for that person who didn't love me anymore. Again, love is a funny thing. It's a pratical joke the Gods play on us as they watch our daily affairs from the comfort of the heavens. 

Here's a side note. I lost one of my closest friends two months ago. No he didn't die, but yeah he's dead to me now. See he's gay. But i don't really care about his sexuality, what he does is his own business. But i accidentally discovered that he was planning something nasty towards me on a soon to be drunken night... one that gladly didn't happen. One doesn't think of doing stuff like that to a close friend. Close friends are like brothers. When i confronted him about it, In defense he blurted out that the loves me. Jesus, what exactly did he think that would do? that doesn't justify the things he was planning. Did he think i would forgive him just because he said he's madly in love with me? well that didn't happen. It only grossed me out in addition to being angry. Good riddance. i do not need friends like that. Love is a funny thing.

Don't shed tears for me though. During the latter half of the year, i met someone. I could honestly say i love her as well, but for some reason it wasn't as great as the feelings i've felt toward that lesser person. This woman was better in all aspects but i can't seem to love her more. And evidently she is so in love with me, i can feel it in her every action and see it every time she stares at me.She says she loves me more and more each day, and me--- it's quite the opposite. Yeah i fall in love, but to me love has an expiration date. i hate it, it makes me an asshole, but that's just the way i am. There would come a point, after a few months or a few years, when it would all start to just be routine. A point would come when there would be no more spark, no more romantic feelings. If we don't end up hating each other, all that would remain would just be friendship, and instead of manning up i would continue with the charade and hope that her feelings would eventually dissipate as well. I never had the guts to end a relationship. passive aggressive behavior is the way to go for me. It always worked before but it doesn't seem to be working now. To be fair, i did try to end it last month when it became clear that nothing i could do could push her away. i said it out loud. But the moment i saw those tears in her eyes my heart broke. It was incredibly hard for me to hurt her because at that time she had already become my best friend, and i couldn't bear to hurt that one person in this world that i absolutely treasure. So now I'm stuck in a relationship i don't want for the sake of friendship, and yeah i guess for the sake of pity as well. Again, love is a funny thing. To those people who are madly in love it is an incredible gift. But to many people, it's nothing but a curse.

The Great Pretender

Well that felt like a huge slap on my face. the fact that it came from someone i hardly know made it even more painful. serves me right for trying to reach out. what came back at me was a little more than i can handle.


Truth is, i can see that she's nice. but i never really liked my brother's ex fiance for some weird reason. i dunno, i guess she just had a lot of eccentricities that push me the wrong way. but when my brother bailed on her four days before the wedding, i guess i felt her pain. no one deserves to be treated that way. a few days after that i sent her a short message, and when she replied... wow, that was overwhelming. basically, she read me right, she saw right through me. and i thought i was good at hiding my true feelings. She knows that the indifferent and happy go lucky, drunkard persona was just a front, and she could see all the angst i keep hidden inside. and she could tell that i was lonely, that i find it hard to talk to anyone in my family because i don't feel any sense of attachment to any of them, and she could tell that i've turned from bad to worse ever since my grandma died. Shit like that i don't even like to hear from my closest friends, and i most definitely do not want to hear crap like that from a person i only encounter casually. The truth hurts and that's why i often try to avoid it. I don't like it when people become all confrontational and shove the truth right at my face. 


But these past few weeks i have been coping. after that horrible news last march, remarkably i'm doing fine. the weekly drinking sprees help me keep my mind of things like they've always had. smoking a joint every now and then soothes my nerves too. but the thing that helps me most these days is rugby. that's right, after so many years i've started playing a sport again, and a contact sport at that. tackling people helps me relieve stress. hurting people for the sake of the sport soothes my nerves, and the fact that everyone is okay with it makes it a whole lot better. but i have to admit part of the fun lies in me getting hurt. i smile each time i get a new bruise, every time i bleed, every time my body aches. the masochist in me still rears its ugly head. i like getting hurt, because deep inside, a part of me still wants to be punished. a part of me wants to feel pain to pay for all the mistakes i have made, to pay for all the troubles i have caused on others. if i get stabbed or shot i would probably be smiling as i watch my reflection on the blood pooling on the pavement. staring at my reflection as my sight slowly grows dim, as everything around me slowly fades away. only then will i find true redemption.


my life right now may not be ideal, but i can honestly say that i'm okay with it. for the first time in years, i do not hate my routine. what i earn is more than enough for myself, and i have a lot of free time for leisure. even though i hate my job, all that free time makes it easier to compensate. as long as i do not trouble myself with the future, as long as i do not look ahead and just keep on looking at the present, i feel fine. problem is, i don't know how long this will last. sooner or later i would get tired of playing rugby, the same way i got tired of my favorite distractions in the past. sooner or later i'll be back to that destructive lifestyle wherein i have to get hammered and wasted everyday just to drown all the sorrows and anger away. for now, i am content with the present. who cares about what the future holds. as long as it remains dim, avoiding looking at it is the only way to keep myself from being insane. for now i can turn a blind eye so that my present would not be clouded by the dark visions of my future. for now i can pretend that everything is okay. though it has been proven that i may not be as great at pretending like i thought i was, for now i can still fool myself that i still am. what other choice do i have anyway.

Here's to Another Shitty Year

I hate days when i have to pretend to be thankful, when i have to pretend to be happy, when i have to pretend that everything is okay. Yup it's my birthday once again, and i'm hating every minute of it.


I hate it when people greet me a happy birthday. I know that they have the best intentions and that they mean no harm. it's customary to greet people on their birthday, it just sucks that i'm not most people and therefore they would not get the usual reaction from me. I hate because i have to respond with a half hearted thank you. I'm certainly not happy, so the exchange of greetings turn out to be so fake.


Why should i be thankful that i have reached another year in this life? nothing seems to turn out the way i planned it. Nothing seems to turn out the way that i would have wanted. To whom should i be thankful for? To my parents, for that unprotected intercourse they did eons ago which resulted to an unwanted pregnancy? should i be thankful to my mom for not going through an abortion even though the thought did go through her mind? frankly i wouldn't have mind if she went through with it. Then i wouldn't have to experience living through this stupid little life.


To whom should i be thankful for? Should i give thanks to god almighty, creator of heaven and earth? that is so laughable. Thank you for never giving me what i want. Back when i was such a devout catholic up to the point when my faith was starting to falter, you never listened. Now that i don't believe in you at all, nothing has changed. I still feel as if i'm talking to a brick wall. Back when i was so religious, i believed all the bullshit saying that you're just giving me trials to make me stronger, and you never give people trials that they can not overcome. now i know that's all hogwash. People say there is a god because of the unexplained order in the universe. My response? what fucking order???? if you know shit about science, most particles would not jive with each other, that's why chaos is more often seen in occurrence rather than order.... but if you mix particles the right way--- they would adhere to one another. there's that slim chance out of all the randomness. mix all the particles the right way, and it can create life, or create an environment conducive to life. you don't need the hand of a superior being for that. shit like that just happens by chance, not because some superior being planned it. wow, you're saying that out of nowhere, some superior being suddenly decided to create life, just snapped his fingers and voila, particles just started coming together in the right way. you guys must give me some of that shit you're smoking. that stuff must be pretty dank.


when good things happen to us, it's god's blessings and we should thank him. if bad things happen to us, hey it's just god giving us trials, and no matter how bad it is, even if our whole family were massacred, even if a nuclear bomb was dropped on out country, hey God never gives us trials we can't overcome. these trials would make us stronger! if bad things happen to good people, those are trials. If bad things happen to bad people, god is punishing them. if good things happen to good people, they are rewarded. if good things happen to bad people.... well, just wait a while. karma's a bitch and they'll never know what hit them. whatever happens, basically it's god's will. those religious nutjobs are basically saying that we can't control anything because everything that happens to us is god's will. can't they see the randomness of it all? where's the order in that? I know an overly religious woman who lost her family in a natural calamity. and i know of this corrupt politician who has lived a sweet life all his life, and he continues to do so. when will this people get what's rightfully due to them? in the fucking afterlife? the afterlife that every religion has a different interpretation of? You have got to be kidding me.


I'm not getting matched to a residency position because i fucked up on my exams. I was overconfident, i didn't study hard, simple as that. It's not because it's god's will, it's not because he's just giving me trials. I fucked up, and it was my fault. I'm the one whose to blame. And if by some miracle that i matched to a position, it's because of the help of my friends and not because God wanted it. All of the religious undertones that some people put in everything just pisses me off. So i wish all those people would shut up when they say that God has other plans for me. There is no fucking God. Whatever shit i find myself in, it's all my fault. if it's not, then it's because of pure dumb luck. something random, it's not something that some divine entity planned. So who do i have to thank for this stupid little life? I only have myself to thank for it, thank you fucking much. I know some people have it worse than me, but the point is, i'm not living the life i want. because i fucked up, that's why i can't. Some would say i should be thankful for what i have, because a lot of people have close to nothing. a lot of people would love to trade places with me. But why would they? because they're not living the life they want right? We may be living different lives, experiencing different hardships, but we still all feel the same way.


Happy fucking birthday to me. Here's to another shitty year. More of the same crap, recycled over and over again. I wonder if i'll ever see the day when i would be truly be happy on this fucking day. With my dumb luck, that seems highly unlikely. It really fucking sucks to be me.

Disposable

I rarely get attached to people. I guess in a way, that's sort of a blessing. i wouldn't long for anyone. i wouldn't miss someone. i wouldn't die out of loneliness if ever i get marooned on a deserted isle somewhere. now that my grandmother's gone, i can't really think of any person that i would miss if ever i went away. sure i enjoy the company of different people, and there are a few select friends that i keep going out with because we get along so well, and quite a few that i trust with every thing about me, a few that i could even trust with my life--- but besides the need for pleasant distractions, i don't really depend on anyone for emotional suppport. there's just no need. i can live alone without the complications of complex human interactions. a downside to this is the fact that i tire of people easily. this is the main reason why none of my relationships last for a long time--- after a couple of months, i grow tired of them. many times, after sharing an intimate moment, i can easily discard women, like some piece of junk that i no longer have use for. On one hand, this is good for me. It means i'm independent. I can stand alone. but on the other hand, it doesn't make for a very good impression to other people. i mean, basically i'm saying that friends and people are disposable and easily replaced for me... and that makes me look like some sort of a prick.


Friends--- they come and go. Although i can name several people that i am really close to, several people that i have poured my heart and soul a couple of times before, i never really felt that need for constant companionship with them. I could go on for months, heck probably even several years without any form of communication with them and i won't even miss them. truth is, they're the ones who keep the flow of communication going, saying hi every now and then, whenever weeks or months have passed by without talking. I may feel the need to reach out to a fellow human being, but i don't need to keep the people i reach out to constant--- why would i, when there are people practically anywhere. and most certainly i would eventually get to have a couple of new friends. maybe the relationships that i would form with those new people wouldn't be as deep as the relationships i've formed before... but so what? i'm not looking for anything complex or deep. a superficial relationship, one that involves just hanging out and doing stupid, funny stuff would suffice for me. i'm not really fond of pouring my heart out to other people anyway. I'm more comfortable in keeping such thoughts to myself, or just ranting in an anonymous blog like this one whenever i feel the need to put my thoughts into words. I'd much rather be alone with my thoughts and let all those feelings pass, instead of pulling another individual into the abyss that i'm in. people already have a lot of things to deal with, they don't need to worry about my problems. and besides, the thoughts going through my head are too dark and complex anyway. most people wouldn't really understand.


Yes, to me friends are easily disposable. no matter how long i've known them, no matter how much i've shared with them, no matter how strong the bond that we had was... i can easily set them aside. yeah that makes me a prick. that makes me some sort of an asshole. but what the heck can i do? that's how i am, it's not how i chose to be. about two months ago i've decided to keep away form certain friends. my gay friends, including those that i'm only suspecting to be gay. I chose to avoid them, like a plague. just like that, all of a sudden, no apparent reason. i don't think they realize that i'm avoiding them. it's easy to make excuses that i'm busy with work because i do have work--- i've been doing more work lately compared to the past couple of years. and it's easy to say i already have plans because i am seeing someone regularly. it's not a relationship, i'm just going through the motions, but it does offer  a convenient excuse. one person though seemed to have realized something was wrong, because we used to hang out a lot often, now it's been months since we've last seen each other. three of those gay folks are my closest friends. i know, how the heck could a guy like me have so many gay friends. and i'm not even counting those gay friends that i am not close to.  i dunno, it just happened. the fact that the medical field seems to attract a lot of people whose sexual orientations are questionable doesn't seem to be helping. truth be told, i haven't met many straight guy friends in med school. a lot of em profess they're straight, but they act so effeminate and they like too many girly stuff, i have to keep myself from laughing out loud every time they talk about girls and shit. the fact that we found  a few of them keeping gay porn materials wouldn't be of much help to their cause, but hey i'm friends with them. whenever people ask if they're gay or whenever they ask me why do i hang out with such people, i tell them my friends aren't gay even if i know they are. and jesus, it's not like one can actively screen the people they become friends with can they? friendship is like love. you don't choose whom you fall in love with. it's something that just happens.


People have ask me a lot of time why i hang out with them. i don't find the term fag stag endearing. and i have accepted the fact that people would assume i'm gay as well when i keep hanging out with them. i've just learned to ignore that through the years. i know i can't hook up with someone when i'm with them, and there's no use making a move on anyone. i'm with them just to hang out, i'm not looking to get laid, so why should i care what other people think? especially people i don't even know? that's my way of thinking for the past couple of years. that's why i don't really know what happened. why the sudden change? i'm sure as hell not embarrassed when people see me with them. until now, i still don't care what other people think. what changed is something inside me. the fact that they talk about a lot of things that i couldn't relate to is one thing. i've been annoyed by that fact ever since. whenever they talk about boys or put the gay speak on overdrive, i feel like i'm being shut out. and frankly, i find some of the stuff they talk about downright disgusting, i just choose to be quiet about em. the fact that some of them could be wanting more than friendship isn't even an issue. as long as they keep their hands off then it's a none issue. if something happened due to alcohol intoxication, if they have been really good friends i could also get over that after a couple of months. heck, i've done a lot of stupid things when i'm drunk, i can't possibly hold other people accountable for their actions when they are under the influence without sounding like a hypocrite.... so that's also a non issue. maybe it's the fact that i've been hanging out with alpha male types for the past couple of months have something to do with it. we have conversations where i never feel shut out. I feel really part of the group, i never feel like an outsider. we share the same interests, and i can talk to them about things only straight males can understand.  after such a long time, I feel like being part of a pack again. I feel like such an ass for feeling this way, but as of this moment, i don't really feel the need to reach out to my gay friends ever again. maybe this is only temporary, i don't really know. I can't just throw all those years of friendship away of course. i can still go out with them, i can still talk to them. I would still call them friends. but it can't be more than that. it can no longer have any deeper meaning. maybe i'm just not meant to hang out with people like them because they are so different. i can get along with them, but it could only remain on a superficial level. instinctively, we seek out people who think the same way we do, and it just took me years to realize that. or maybe and more probably, as i have concluded earlier, i am just basically nothing more than an ass.

Hello

Well hello there blogger. it's been a long time old buddy. You've probably been wondering where i've been, what I've been doing. Heck, the thought that i have finally committed suicide had probably crossed your mind. Not to worry, old pal. I'm feeling real good actually. You notice how i often turn to you whenever i'm feeling down or really angry?  you notice how i always turn to you when all the world seemed so fucked up? That has been your main purpose, old friend. You serve as my outlet for all those turbulent emotions. I turn to you because you're the only one who would listen without any sort of prejudice. I guess you figured it out somewhat, and you should be happy for me. If i have been silent for a long time, that means things are finally going my way. It's one of those rare instances that i have the courage to be optimistic. So yeah i'm home again, and yeah just like before i feel shitty. Who wouldn't feel this way, coming back to the shit hole that any sane person would want to stay away from? but alas, this shit hole is the place i call home, but if things go as planned this time, i wouldn't be calling this place home any longer. I can finally leave this place for good--- all those painful memories, all those places that i've grown to hate, and all those people who continue to disappoint me. I gave it another shot, and i feel really optimistic this time, and i have my friends to thank for that. True, it wouldn't be the life that i really wanted, but it will be a life that is so much better than the one i have now. And my future would be brighter than any future that i could have staying here at home.



The problem with being optimistic? well i guess i would feel worse when things don't go exactly as planned. But that's still a few weeks from now. For now, i'd continue to live my life, smiling as the world around me watches me passing by. I just hope that several weeks from now, i wouldn't have to turn to you for comfort again.... and the longer i stay silent, the more you should be happy for me. We have shared great times together, you and I.... but in all those times, i was at my worst, and i'd hate to see myself in those situations again.  But if ever i find myself wallowing in desperation again, i know you'll be here at this exact same place. I can trust you, i can depend on you. And in some fucked up way, you're the only one who truly understands. That's why you're the one who'll be with me until the very end.

That Fine Line

I hate being sick. Whenever i'm sick, i lose all sense of reason. I lose all control. Whenever i feel this bad, this weak... whenever i feel this shitty, it just makes it so much easier to end it all. When i feel well, i'm not someone who would back down from almost anything, but when i'm feeling this way, i'm someone who wouldn't even put up a fight. Right now i'm wishing that when i fall asleep later, hopefully i won't be able to wake up anymore. Problem solved, this miserable feeling would go away in an instant. I know i have the means stashed someplace that's easily accessible... but simply thinking about going through all the motions leaves me tired. All i want to do is lie down and wait. I'm groggy from all the meds i've been taking. If there really is a supreme being, he should be aware of how miserable i'm feeling right now. If he could only show a bit of mercy, he would take me out of my misery.


Even before this infection hit me, i've been feeling really down these past few weeks, i dunno why. About two months ago i was feeling fine. That was when i've come up with a plan, something that seemed really feasible back then, but it seems pretty bleak now.  I wanted to give it another try, but then it hit me. If i didn't make it before when my chances were better, i guess i probably won't be able to make it now. I've been doing a lot of crazy things, things that i would never have done a few years or even a few months ago, when i was still my normal self. But with the way i'm feeling now, nothing really seems to matter anymore. who gives a shit about consequences, who gives a shit about personal values and convictions. who gives a shit about principles. Certainly not me. Whatever i do, whatever i choose not to do, it doesn't really matter since i'd be gone in a few years anyway. I don't care about anything anymore. I simply refuse to. I have become morally and spiritually numb.


All the shit that goes on around the world certainly does not help change my perspective. People aren't good by nature. That's nothing but a fucking myth. People are selfish. people are assholes. People are by nature destructive. There are a few good souls here and there, sure... but they are grossly outnumbered by the scummy majority. Humanity is not something worth caring for, it's not something worth fighting for. When the time comes that i have to leave this world, humanity is not something i would miss. It would be a great relief to be away from such horrible beings.

Maybe i'm just saying this because of the things that have been going on around me these past few weeks, all that shit has definitely put me in a pessimistic mood. but such things have been happening for the longest time right? I just wasn't aware of them before. It's just not my family. It's not just about what's happening to my close friends. It's about what's happening everywhere around the world. Grave robbers continue to loot my grandparent's mausoleum. I dunno how we can stop them from doing so. My close friend's dad was killed 2 weeks ago, when drunkards beat him up real bad for no logical reason resulting in a traumatic head injury. And then i look at what happened in norway. in london. What's still happening in the middle east. It's as if all sense of reason has gone out the window. Civilization has regressed to its barbaric nature. It's as if humane and ethical means of solving problems and voicing our grievances have become totally unheard of. There can be no peace because man is by nature primitive and violent. Who can be optimistic when everywhere you look, there's nothing to be optimistic about? When even the educated show glaring signs of stupidity, when even the so called intelligent ones aren't capably of sound reasoning? I'm not really being pessimistic, i'm just being realistic. There's a fine line between those two things, the same fine line that separates optimism from stupidity. I see a lot of things wrong with the world, and that surely doesn't make me stupid. I'd rather call things as i see them, and not pretend that everything is fine and dandy when it's clearly not. I have valid reasons for feeling this way, i have reasons for being depressed. People say i have a lot of things to be thankful for,  they say that i'm luckier than most, but are those enough reasons to be happy? Are those enough reasons to keep on smiling and basically ignore everything that's wrong in our lives? Anyone who says that this world is worth fighting for, that this world is worth living for is either ignorant or a liar. I'd rather die now and be free from all the crap the world throws at me than to continue living more years in a lie. As i've said, i'm not being pessimistic. I'm just being real.

My Own Private Suicide

If i went through with my original plan... well, to put it bluntly... i should be dead by now.


It wasn't that hard to plan it. Nothing like the cold winter nights of december to put you in an introspective mood. Nothing like the stillness in the air to make you look back at the sort of life you've lived, and look forward to the sort of life you'd end up living. And all the things i've seen were nothing short of depressing. I had one shot, i had that one chance to make a difference. If i blew it, i probably won't get another chance. If i miss that opportunity, I'd be stuck in the same old rut. Rather than continue living a life that i hate, i'd rather just end it. There was no other way.


July 1. That was the day that i was supposed to do it. That was the day of change. If i got lucky, i would be out of here, and i would never look back. If luck wasn't on my side... well, i'd still rather be out of here, and there lies the attraction to that other option. Win or lose, come July 1 i'd be out of here. No matter the outcome, come July 1, the life that i knew would end. That was it.


I came home on the last week of January. Being surrounded by all things that i hated made it so hard for me to hold on. It was so tempting, yet i had to wait. Things may turn out for the better after all. It was too early to tell back then. By mid february, i started making all preparations. After months of planning, i already knew how to go about it. I knew the things that had to be bought, i knew the things that would be needed. More than a decade ago when similar thoughts clouded my head, i wanted to make the most impact. I wanted it to be as bloody as possible. I wanted it to be messy.I thought about jumping off a tall building. I thought about bleeding myself slowly to death on the bathroom floor. I thought about shooting myself in the head with my grandpa's gun. But after more than a decade, i have somehow become more subdued. I didn't want a violent death, i was more at peace with myself. I want to go out quietly, subtly,  without much noise. I chose my weapon of choice. It was a drug that was easy enough to procure as long as you have a medical license. The only problem was, i could fall asleep before the the toxic dose has been pumped into my veins, thereby foiling my plans. So i figured out the delivery method. Five times the lethal dose would flow through my veins. I would be long dead and the drug would still continue to be pumped through my bloodstream. Once i flipped that switch, there would be no turning back, there would be no recovery. When i realized that, although i was drowning in depression at that time, i managed to smile. And it was a genuine smile. I was really happy.


It was a rainy day in mid february when i bought the drugs. The weather was fitting, i thought to myself. It was easy enough to buy 6 vials, no questions were asked. The salesperson didn't even give any second thoughts. Everything was set. I had everything i needed. After a month i would know whether I would have any use for all of it or not. I hid my armaments in a place no one knew of. I practiced inserting an IV line on myself just to make sure no hitches would happen on the big day. I encountered no problems. It was gonna be easy. I didn't want to leave any suicide note because i thought that would be cheesy, but i guess I owed my family at least that. No explanations why i did it, just a few words directed at them. To my dad, i wouldn't say that he's one of the main reasons why i hate my life so much. I would just say that it's not yet too late to make a change, and i wish he would finally wise up and use his remaining years to fix his messed up, god forsaken life. To my mom, i really don't know what to say. Except maybe i wish we could have been more closer to each other... so that i can sincerely say that i would miss her. And to my siblings... well, although i never really felt close to any of them, i would say i'm extremely proud of those three. They are all younger than I am, yet they have already managed to accomplish so much more in their lives that I would ever dream to accomplish in my entire lifetime. And i just want them to know that. They make me so god damn proud. Everything was ready. All preparations were done. All i had to do was wait.


That week in March was definitely the lowest point in my life. There it was, in bold letters. They didn't even try to sugarcoat it a little. I failed. I sucked. i was a loser. All was lost. I tried so hard not to use it back then. I knew it was too early, but i really wanted to end it all back then. I already brought the drugs out. I was already setting up the IV line as i was crying, I was already hanging the soluset, i already inserted an IV catheter on my right hand... i managed to take several deep breaths before i managed to control myself. Yes, it was too early. I can't stray away from my original plan. those few months in between were meant for me to tie up many loose ends, to settle any unfinished business, and to say my proper goodbyes to the very few people i cherish. I can't deprive them of that. Besides, the death anniversaries of my grandparents were coming up, plus the birthdays of all my siblings. I didn't want to steal anyone's thunder. i wouldn't want to cause grief on their otherwise happy days. I had to wait. If i wanted to go quietly without any noise, I had to force myself to wait... and waiting was such an agony.


One of my online buddies told me that what i was thinking of doing was selfish, and i disagreed with him. We had one long argument because of that. I told him it was selfish for other people to deprive one person of his only form of escape. We may argue that there are other ways, death is not the only option, but we can never really understand what another person is going through because we do not live the exact same life that he is living. If you are thinking that it is selfish because the person contemplating suicide doesn't care about the grief that he would cause others once he takes his life away, then it is just as selfish for those loved ones to force a person to continue living a life that brings him nothing but agony just so they can save themselves from grief. But in the end, that was what stopped me from doing it. Because if i went through with it, it would have really been selfish... but not because of the reasons that he stated. If i went through with it at this time when our family is still finding it hard to make ends meet, i would be causing a lot of problems, especially financially. As of now we have no funds for emergencies, and another funeral so soon after the death of both of my grandparents last year is definitely not on anyone's list of expenses for the year. I don't really care about what they would feel when i'm gone. But leaving such a material and concrete burden to them does seem selfish. If I leave them with a lot of problems, i won't be able to go out quietly. I'd still be making noise long after i'm gone, and all I want to do is to leave in peace, leaving no troubles and problems behind.


I still have everything that I need. The drugs won't expire until after four years, that gives me plenty of time. I haven't scrapped my plans, i'm simply postponing it. For now i'm working again, i'm saving up for my funeral. Once I have saved enough, i'd still be going as planned... Unless I find that reason for living that I have been continuously searching for... always searching, but never finding. That's the only thing that can stop me from leaving. But at this point in my life, the chances of that happening just seems like wishful thinking. But who knows, a lot of things can happen in a year or two. Instead of saving up for my funeral, i could be saving up for something worth fighting for and worth living for. But for now, I shall keep it all inside, my own private suicide. each day that i keep on living i'm slowly killing myself inside, but i have to force a smiling face so that no one would ever know that i am slowly tearing apart. In my life, nothing has changed. i'm still floating alone in this river of misery. I'm just going where the current takes me. I'd just shield my eyes from all the pain and ugliness life brings, i'd just try to be numb and take everything in stride. For the next year or so, i'd try to continue living. The world will continue to move on, and for now, i will just be.

Letting the Guilt Go

It's been a year since my grandma passed away. I used to think that it would be easier as time went by. In a way, it is easier. But in every idle moment, certain images still haunt me. Whenever i find the time to stop and think about all the things that have happened, whenever i find the time to reflect, all those painful memories come rushing back. A year has passed and i still feel as lonely. A year has passed and i still feel as guilty as i have been a year ago.

Every now and then our relatives would ask me if I dream about her. They are a superstitious lot, especially the old ones. They believe that dreams are one of the ways that those who have moved on to the afterlife communicate with those who are still living. I do not believe in such nonsense, but to answer their question--- yes, I dream about her. A lot. Not because she's communicating with me, but because she remains in my consciousness. And even at those times when i'm preoccupied i still think about her subconsciously. She's always present in my mind.

On most dreams, we are simply talking, as if she's still alive. And i remember waking up with a smile, and that warm feeling would quickly vanish once i realize that it was all a dream and she's long gone. Several times i dream of the last day she was alive, but i did things differently, things turned out well and i managed to save her life. Everything's fine, and i would wake up feeling so happy. And like most dreams about her, that great feeling that everything is all right with the world would disappear the moment i realize it was just a dream. All those dreams were so surreal, all those dreams were so vivid, i always thought that they were real instead of make believe. But that's just the way my life plays out. It gives me one fleeting moment of happiness, then in an instant it would take it all away and push me back into the darkness where it chooses to keep me.

I had several dreams about here which were so horrible that i wake up shaken and afraid. I never could remember what those dreams were about except for one, which was as vivid as it was disturbing. Again the last day of her life was being played out, but this time it was in an old, gothic, dilapidated hospital, the type of building you'd see in an old creature feature. Cobwebs abound, mysterious eyes shone in the dark, the floors would creak with every step--- stuff you'd usually see in those old horror movies. In this dream my grandpa was still alive, and we had to carry my grandma's body down to the morgue because in that hospital, it was the duty of the deceased patient's loved ones to bring the patient down. As we were carrying her i noticed that she wasn't that heavy. I remembered that i couldn't carry her on my own when she was still alive, but at that time i thought i could carry her easily. With faulty logic I just figured that's just how it is when a person dies, a lot of her weight would disappear. The morgue was filled with lighted candles, and there were a lot of coffins inside. I wanted to hug her for one last time so I pulled back the sheets that were covering her body, and it turned out all that was covered underneath was her spine connected to her head, her intestines, plus a big blob of blood. There wasn't any skin. Blood poured down on the sides of the stretcher, then my grandpa vomited. From out of nowhere my dad came out shouting at me, blaming me for something i could not understand. Then a little boy came out of the darkness, splashing about the pool of blood on the floor. He then reached for her intestines, then started nibbling on it. While he was chewing on her innards, he was looking at me and he was smiling. That was when i woke up.

My life as it is right now is in shambles. The fact that she's gone just makes things so much harder to bear. I never realized it back then, but she used to give me a reason, she used to give me a sense of direction. Now I don't know where i'm headed.I'm like a sailor out at sea, with no specific destination. I have always been lonely. I have always been angry. But not to the extent that i am now. Ever since she passed away all these negative feelings have been magnified. Oftentimes, i just feel like crying for no apparent reason. Not a day goes by when I don't lose my temper. Not a day goes by when i don't want to beat someone up. Whereas before i can easily keep my emotions in check and keep all the anger inside, nowadays i always feel the need to show it. For the past year i have provoked a lot of people into fighting me, just so i could release all the hate inside of me, but so far no one has been stupid enough to fight back. I've know what it's like to beat the hell out of someone who has done you wrong, and it felt so damn good, i have actually been craving for it. The satisfaction it brings is immeasurable. But the opportunity to release all this anger onto another person hasn't presented itself yet, so i have to be content with spending several hours in the gym. Some people think i've suddenly turned into an obsessive compulsive health nut. The truth is, i've been going to the gym frequently to release all this anger. Lifting all those weights and hitting that punching bag again and again is strangely satisfying. I just have to imagine that I'm hitting another person... someone i despise... someone who has done me wrong. And somehow, as i transfer all the pain onto an imaginary being, the pain i feel inside would go away, even for just a fleeting moment.

If she had told me that she was ready to die, maybe it would be easy to let go. But the very last time that i looked into her eyes, i knew that she still wanted to live. By the time that we've managed to get her inside my car, I already knew that i let her down. And with the way i'm living my life right now, i'm letting her down again and again and again. I know i can't let go of her memory, but her memory is entwined with such great feelings of loneliness and guilt, it makes the very act of living so damn difficult. It would be so easy to just give up, especially since i still have no apparent purpose, and i see no compelling reason. I know it's not the sane option, but giving up may be the only way of letting go of the guilt that's continuing to haunt me in this life.

Nines

I've had a number of close encounters with death in my life. Just a slight miscalculation, or one seemingly negligible change in the chain of events could have led to a very different outcome. I have cheated death more than once, and i wonder why it had kept on evading me. The existentialist in me would believe that i still have a purpose, there's still something that i have to do in this life, that's why it just can't let go of me. But the pessimist in me would dismiss such beliefs as hogwash. It's all coincidental. There's no higher power. There's nothing more to it than luck. Nothing but pure, dumb, stupid luck.

When I was 10, i remember floating in outer space. It was such a vivid memory. I felt so serene and at peace, but that feeling didn't last long. Aliens appeared out of nowhere and they began to chase me. No matter where i would hide, they would always find me, and i was so afraid of them. They could catch me any minute and i was sure that they would kill me. I didn't want to die, but that's exactly what's going to happen when they catch me. I couldn't fight them, there were too many of them and they were so strong, running and hiding was my only option. I felt as if my heart was going to explode from all the fatigue. If they didn't kill me, i would die of exhaustion instead... but that would still be the better option. Better than dying in the hands of those space creatures. It lasted for days before i finally escaped. And the visions of outer space and my intergalactic horrors slowly faded, at first merging with reality before disappearing completely. I was bedridden at home for a week before they admitted me to a hospital. Everyone thought that it was just a simple fever, but it turned out i already had meningitis. The doctor said they administered the antibiotics in time. If treatment got delayed for even a day, i probably would have died. I didn't understand all the fancy words i was hearing back then, but i understood that it was serious condition, and i was so thankful that everything turned out right. I was 10, i had so many things to look forward to, i had so many years ahead of me. I was happy to be alive.

I can't exactly remember the reason why i felt so bad at that time, but back when i was around fifteen, i thought my whole world was falling apart. I felt that there was no other choice, i had to escape. On hindsight, i believe it was a combination of multiple superficial and insignificant things that just piled up. To my present self, whatever problems i faced back then were nothing compared to the ones i encounter these days... but back then, things were so different. When you are young, everything is amplified. Nothing is insignificant. Even the littlest things can cause a great amount of pain. That was when i found myself standing on the top floor of our house. After an hour or so of crying, i decided that it was time. There's no other way, all i had to do was jump and it would be over. I stood up, i closed my eyes, and just when i was about to leap forward, a strong gush of wind pushed me back and i fell on the floor. I was a religious person back then, and i saw that as a sign. That I still had to keep on fighting, i still had to keep on living. I still had a purpose. I could almost feel death breathing down my neck, and just like that, i decided against it. I saw something, but in truth there was nothing. I believed that a superior being pushed me back and kept me from making a huge mistake, but in truth it was all coincidental. I was the only one up there on that ledge and no one else. No one prevented me from jumping but myself... back then, i just couldn't see that. It was easier to believe in superstitions. When you are young and you haven't encountered all the different types of shit that life throws at you, it's easier to turn a blind eye. It's easier to pretend and make believe.

It was a few days before Christmas on December 2003 when i fell asleep driving on my way home. I had a number of exams on that week, and i slept for only 2 hours each day. The night before it happened, i didn't sleep at all. I came from my friend's place and i left as soon a we exchanged Christmas presents. The last thing i remembered was i was driving at about 140 km/hr on the highway, and then i woke up with a lot of people surrounding my car. Someone was knocking on the windshield. I looked ahead and saw that I crashed into a parked car and its rear end was totaled. In order to get there from where i was, i had to make a U turn, do a quick right turn and pass by an intersection. I couldn't have possibly done that unconsciously... to be able to make it that far without hitting someone, without crashing into something else was quite impossible. My faith was already wavering that time, and i doubt if some superior being had any hand in it, but i had to admit that what happened was a miracle. My car wasn't damaged as much, and i didn't even have a single scratch on me. Everything about that event was nothing short of a miracle. It's probably dumb luck, but it was really miraculous just the same.

January 2008. That was when my highly publicized accident happened. My car was a total wreck, it burst into flames and nothing could be salvaged from it. It was funny. I could no longer count the times when i went home drunk and still managed to come home in one piece despite the fact that i couldn't remember how exactly i got home when i wake up in the morning.... and on that one time when i just had a few drinks and i wasn't even tipsy, i decide to drive too fast just to get that adrenaline rush and then ---- BAM! Driving on a curved road above the speed limit was a disaster waiting to happen. It was all over the evening news, and the footage can still be seen on Youtube up to this day that my friends continue to bring it up every now and then much to our amusement. I could laugh at it now, and i could poke fun at the fifteen minutes of fame that the incident brought me, but it wasn't funny back then. My life was already a mess back then, as messy as it is now, that if i died back then i wouldn't even care. If there was an afterlife, i'd probably be looking at the wreck, looking at my lifeless, bloody body and i'd most definitely be smiling. Because it's all over. It's finally all over. But I had a friend with me at that time, and that made all the difference. I may not regard my life as much, but to take another life with me as i throw away my own, whether intentionally or not... that's not something i could bear. If i was driving alone, i would have wanted things to turn out differently instead. It would have spared me from all the shit that i had to deal with in the succeeding years. But i wasn't alone, and that's one time that i have to thank my dumb luck. It was one of those rare occasions wherein luck was on my side instead of against me. It wasn't divine intervention. It was just plain luck. Something that happened by chance, something coincidental. To put reason into a non specific chain of events would be over analyzing. But for the sake of argument, if some superior being did keep on saving me all those times, then it must be a superior being with a wicked sense of humor. A being that finds it so amusing to keep me in this rut. I couldn't put much faith in such a being now, can it?

I have cheated death so many times, i often ask myself if there's a reason why. Do i really have a purpose in this life? is there really something that i still have to do? can i really make a difference? With the number of times that i have cheated death, anyone who's even slightly superstitious would probably say yes. Something like that could be seen as strangely logical. If i have some sort of purpose in this life, i am not seeing it. If i have to do it in the future, how many more years do i have to wait? how much longer do i have to languish in this purgatory? I would say that i have touched the lives of a few people. I know of two people who have said that their lives are better because they got to know me. And for some weird reason, someone told me once that i gave her inspiration. In my line of work, i know a number of people who are alive because of me. Either i've directly treated them, or because i was able to help them financially to afford the medications and procedures that they needed. If that's my purpose, then it's not enough. Those things do not happen often enough. I need something like that constantly, i need something that would keep me pushing and fighting continuously. Opportunities that happen sporadically aren't enough. Everyone needs a purpose to go on through life. It may be something that inspires you, it may be something that drives you insane, but either way, it keeps you going. To live a life without purpose would be dull, uneventful. It's like you're not living at all. A life without purpose is a life without meaning. You'd often wish you were just dead because it would seem you're not really living anyway. Your body may be functional, but everything else is just lifeless. It wouldn't make any difference whether you're still alive or already dead.

Through the Negativity

I couldn't say i was surprised. It's just that i was hoping that i was wrong. I suspected it when my cousin was diagnosed with shingles. He was fit and healthy, he was not in any undue amount of stress. There has to be a reason why he became immunocompromised. So i forced him to undergo some tests, just to rule out certain possibilities. When the results came out, i was right.

So yeah. He's HIV positive. And he also has hepatitis B. At first he was just laughing about it as he told me on the phone. He kept making jokes, injecting humor in a very serious situation. So i went along with him. But the next day i received a call from his sister, and she told me that when she visited him he was laughing at first, but the wall that he surrounded himself with suddenly fell down, and all his tears came rushing out all at once. He told her he wanted to kill himself. Maybe he would ask for my help so he can get his hands on a lot of prohibited meds, swallow all those pills in an instant and let it all be over and done with. I didn't know what to say. I would say that we're pretty close, but i never saw that side of him. I've always known him to be that happy go lucky guy, that guy you can always count on if you want to have a great time. He's the guy you can count on if you want to leave your problems behind... albeit temporarily. Come to think of it, that was how we became close. He always gave me some sort of escape whenever i needed to.

I've had several misadventures with him. During my carefree days, back when i didn't give a fuck, he showed me all the perfect spots, where to pick up the hottest girls for the cheapest price, where i can really have a good time. He taught me all there is to know about the trade. You could say that he was my mentor. Maybe it was inevitable, that he would catch something serious. Two years ago he got infected with gonorrhea and we were laughing about it as i was treating him. He got laid very often. There was a time that he got laid almost every night, and each night it's with a different girl. And he never practiced safe sex. Whether it's with prostitutes, with some girl he knew from work, or some random chick he met at a bar, he never wore condoms. I always tell him to wear condoms, but he would just give me that cynical and smug look of his whenever i told him that. The fact that he knew for a fact that i don't always practice what i preach makes me sound like some sort of a hypocrite i guess. He even got laid two weeks before the results came out. And he still had shingles back then. I didn't know what surprised me more. The fact that he could still have sex even when his arm was painful as hell... or the fact that some chick could get horny as fuck that they would screw someone who had a lot of lesions in his arm.

I saw him the other day. I made a medical certificate for him, diagnosing him with some bullshit sickness, the most plausible illness that i could think of just so he can get transferred to the morning shift. Morning shift = less stress. That was how i justified my recommendation without going through the specifics. He wasn't ready to tell people yet, and i understood him. No matter how much people say that they understand HIV and AIDS, discrimination still exists, especially in the workplace. People will avoid him, like that asshole brother of his, who left their apartment the very minute he found out because he believed he will get infected. He could even lose his job if his boss makes up some silly excuse just to get him fired. Stuff like that happens. And he cant afford to lose his job, especially with his many future expenses. If they ever found out that i made some bogus diagnosis, i could get reprimanded... heck, i could get suspended but i didn't really care. All I wanted to at that time was to help him, and i was willing to do everything i could.

When he entered the clinic, i no longer saw that smile that he always wore. now he doesn't even make any attempt to hide his true feelings. As I was explaining to him the results of all the exams, as i was discussing his illness and his prognosis, he became teary eyed. And then he started to cry. There was nothing i could do or say to make him feel better. Any word would just seem like horse shit coming out of my mouth. So i just let him cry. After a while i told him that i knew what he was thinking. His sister told me that he was contemplating suicide. It's not the end of the world. He could still live a normal life. He still had so many years ahead of him, he can still do all the things he wanted to do. There's no need to let go of his dreams and ambitions. But we both knew that wasn't exactly true. We both knew that i was just trying to make him feel better. His condition may not change everything, but it changes a lot of things. On many drunken nights he had told me his goals in life. How he wanted to start his own business. How he wanted to earn a lot of money so that his mom no longer had to work. How he wanted to send her niece to school and finance her education until she finishes college... because his good for nothing brother didn't want to have anything to do with his own kid. And how he wanted to have a family of his own someday, once his family didn't depend on him as much as they do now. For someone who seems so frivolous on the outside, this man has such noble goals. His dreams in life prioritizes the needs of other rather than focusing on his. There are so many things that he can no longer do. Several of his dreams can no longer be turned into reality. And i guess that's what hurts the most--- to have your dreams crushed in front of you, just like that. As i look into his eyes, i see myself in him. I knew exactly how he was feeling. We both wear this facade, we want to show the world that we are carefree, that we have no worries, that there's always something to be happy about. We always wear this smile, we try to project this aura of happiness just so we can hide the mess that we are inside. I know what it's like to be filled with dreams, and just like that, because of some bizarre twist of fate, everything is taken away from you.... leaving you with no hope, leaving you with no purpose and no sense of direction, leaving you in such a state of disarray. After our long talk, i've managed to cheer him up a bit. He told me that somehow I've managed to give him a little bit of hope. He's probably lying, i know. He's just trying to make me feel better, as much as i was trying to cheer him up. It would talk more than several inspirational words to lift me out of a state of misery. If nothing can pull me out of this present state i'm in, i doubt if anything can pull him out of his either. I may not be able to make things better for him, but i wanted him to know that i'm here for him. And unlike the many people surrounding him, i understand exactly how he's feeling. I'm pretty sure he's not aware of it, i've never taken off my mask in front of him... but I am a kindred soul. As we continue walking through this joke that we call life, we can't really do much. It's either we give up now, or we keep moving as we laugh along with it. And as long as i'm able to, i would be laughing along with him if he chooses to.

Bygones

It's been more than a year since i've been to the top floor of our house. That was February of last year, two days after i came home. That was when my grandpa was asking about the things that were happening to him, and i gave him one wrong answer after another. On that top floor, there was my grandpa's room. Adjacent to it was a makeshift basketball court where my brother and i used to play when we were kids. On the rooftop was a small garden, and when there weren't too many building around almost twenty years ago, we could see as far as the ocean back then. Back then, it was some sort of sanctuary from me. Back then, it was all serene and quiet, and i used to go there when i needed to get away from it all. It was yesterday afternoon when i decided to go upstairs. There was no specific reason. I just thought of going up there all of a sudden.

Most of plants have died now, save for a few which were beginning to wilt. The soil was dry and cracked. The iron chairs we placed there were now all rusty. Privacy and serenity were things of the past. Before our house towered all above the others, now several buildings were around us, and the tenants of the apartments right next to us can see me clearly if they chose to look out their windows. I could no longer feel a breeze, i could no longer breathe fresh air. I could no longer see the ocean. All i see are smog and skyscrapers blocking the view. It's no longer a view that can foster joy and relaxation. The sight i see now is simply depressing.

I went inside my grandpa's room, and it looked as if a bomb hit it some time last year. The sight that I saw shocked me. The last time i was here everything looked okay, it didn't seem so dilapidated. I dunno, maybe it was and i just didn't take notice. Now all the paint on the walls were peeling. Thick dust covered his bed and the floors, i left shoe prints everywhere i walked. I saw family pictures beneath the glass covering one table, our faces unrecognizable due to the damage caused by water that had managed to seep through the walls. It's amazing how a year of neglect can make such a difference. Before, proper maintenance managed to hide all the wear and tear. Now it's exposed for all the world to see. If i didn't know better i would've thought that this room had been abandoned for years.

And then i looked up and i saw the basketball ring. I was never good at that sport, i never played it unless i had to, like during our physical education classes because i had to be graded, or during intramural games in high school because our class lacked players. But playing with my brother when we were kids was the exception. There were no rules, there was no pressure to perform well. We played by our own rules and we made them up as we went along. Come to think of it, the only times my brother and i got along well was during play time.... until we argued about something about whatever we were playing, then we'd end up fighting like we always did. lol. But I spent many summers up there with my brother, and during the extremely warm days of summer when i close my eyes and everything's all quiet, i smell fresh grass. I smell the flowers on our rooftop. I hear birds chirping. i see myself playing on the streets with people i've already lost touch with. I see the view of the ocean from a distance. i see myself playing with my brother on that makeshift basketball court in our rooftop. And I hear my grandpa cheering us as he watched us through the window of his room.

I have no idea when that backboard broke and how it broke. I guess 20 years is a long time for even the sturdiest of boards. Twenty years is a long time for anything. Anything is bound to break sooner or letter, all things tend to pass away some time. It's funny how time flies by so fast. It seems like it was only yesterday when everything seemed so much different. People just become so preoccupied with many other things, most of them unnecessary, that we tend to become blind to the changes happening around us. We tend to ignore the changes to the things that we become familiar with, to the changes in the things that we used to cherish. To the things that were once essential, but has since lost relevance. I guess i went upstairs because i remembered the feeling of peace i felt back then, every time i spent all those afternoons alone on the roof top alone... and i really missed that feeling. It was something that i wanted. It was a feeling that i was yearning for. But when i went up, i discovered a very different place. It all seemed very alien to me. It could no longer offer the peace of mind that i was looking for. Its time had passed a long time ago. I never went back when it could still give me that reprieve that i needed. Like may things in my life that i have somehow neglected and disregarded, the realization came too late. It's a sad fact of life. For most people, regrets always come in the end. All we could so is wish for a way to turn back time, but there's nothing more we can do but wish for the impossible. We failed to act when our actions could have meant something. We never think of doing something until it's already too late.

A Reason

I've been thinking a lot about life these past few days. About how ephemeral it is. About how insignificant and superficial one's life is in the grand scheme of things, yet at the same time eerily profound. I've been thinking about how it holds great importance to some people... no matter how miserable their lives are, they still see some sort of beauty in it. Some people just see life as redundant. An endless cycle that we have to do again and again just to get through with it. Life brings no misery, yet it brings no joy and excitement either. It's just one monotonous episode after the other. To others, life brings nothing but pain, and that they would do anything to be free from it, no matter how beautiful and blessed that life is to to other people. I've been thinking about how life can be viewed differently. Depending on which perspective, depending on the circumstance, depending on who's living it. There are so many facets in life, a single person can't possibly see each one of them. We can't really see how life is through another person's eyes, and we can't really see life in its entirety.

I've been thinking about work. I guess it's about time i ended this routine of doing nothing productive and move on to the next routine--- one where i could at least do something of worth, no matter how small the impact may be. I've been unemployed for more than a year now. I'd much rather sulk all day, lying alone on this bed, wallowing in guilt and misery... but i realize i can't go on living like this for the rest of my life. I've got to do things to keep me distracted, to keep me away from certain thoughts... at least temporarily. For the time being, I have to pull myself up.

During those years that i have been working at different hospitals, i've gotten to know a lot of patients. There were those who were completely devastated when told that there was no cure for whatever ailed them. There were those who would move heaven and earth just to receive the proper treatment. There were those who would stubbornly hold on, even when all hope was lost. When i looked into their tearful eyes, i saw the same thing. They were asking for mercy, for another chance, practically begging me for it... as if i had the power to change things. Most of them were old, most of them were weak, most of them weren't well off. And therein lies the irony. I never knew them well enough to know how they lived their lives, but i guess in their eyes, life was beautiful. Life wasn't something you'd give up just like that.

On the other hand, there were also many who didn't give a damn at all. They were usually the young and the strong, those who seem to have great potential. Some were rich, some had great jobs, some had a lot of things going for them. They come in after a failed suicide attempt, and they look at you with hatred as you're treating them because you have deprived them of their chance to escape... to escape that life that seemed so perfect to others. And then once they've calmed down, they look at you as if you have betrayed them. They look at you as if asking for mercy, because they know you have the power to make things all right again. Sometimes I wonder if we were doing the right thing back then. I could never know how life was for them. I'm not them, i wasn't living their lives. Life must be really bad for anyone to consider doing such a thing. Sometimes I wonder if we should just let these people be. Because what happens after we have saved them? Most never recover completely. A lot of them would suffer from a lifelong depression. Then there are those who are left completely paralyzed, there are those who could only feed via an intravenous route for the rest of their lives, there are those who can no longer speak, hear, or see... what kind of life did we give them? WHat kind of second chance? I'm not sure if we really did save their lives if we only made their lives so much more miserable. We had to sacrifice their own happiness just to make their loved ones happy. If it wasn't considered a crime, if it wasn't considered unethical, maybe it would be better if we just put people like them out of their misery.

As i'm sitting here alone inside my grandparents' room, I've been thinking about life. I guess it's my room now. I've been thinking about the past. I've always thought of my grandpa as some sort of a fighter--- he's not gonna give up without a fight. He wouldn't let go just like that. It was early March last year when i heard him say the words I'm giving up. Those words took me by surprise, because I never thought of him as a person who'd give anything up. But when i looked at him, how weak and tired he looked, i began to understand. He wasn't used to being so dependent on others for anything. He wasn't used to being carried all around, he wasn't used to being spoonfed, he wasn't used to being treated like such a baby. We never told him that he was dying, but I'm sure he knew. A few months back he could do anything he wanted, he could go anywhere. And then last March, that was what he was reduced to. By that time, life already had no meaning for him. There was nothing left. If he still wanted to do certain things, he must've realized that no longer had the strength to do them. He depended on others for every single thing, and to him, that wasn't living. When a person has reached that certain point in his life, that's the time to give up. We will all reach that point in our lives, some sooner than later.

This is the room where my grandma breathed her last breath. In fact, I'm facing that chair where I found her slumped and no longer breathing. For the past couple of years I guess i was the one she depended on mostly... at least next to my dad. Whenever i went out at night, she would ask me to come home early. I used to think that was just her being overprotective as always. And every time i'd get annoyed. But as her health gradually worsened, I saw an increasingly worried look in her eyes, as if anything could happen any minute. She had a point. My grandpa had a separate room upstairs, my dad didn't live with us, and my brother was seldom home. If she needed to be brought to the hospital, no one could bring her there immediately. She had to call me or my dad. That happened several times during the last few years, but i was always at work when it happened. I guess that was just dumb luck. She had to wait a few minutes before my dad came, but they always made it to the hospital just in time. Maybe that's why we have grown complacent. She always made it in time. She always had that worried look, and that's how I know that she's the type of person who'd continue clinging on to life for as long as she could. On her last few days I thought she had already given up. SHe refused to go back to the hospital no matter what. She'd rather stay at home. But somehow she found a reason to keep fighting near the end. That woke her up from her state of temporary hopelessness. But it's just her luck that I was the person at the house that time and not my dad. I know, i did everything i could and things probably wouldn't have gone any different if my dad was the one at home with her that time, but that's one fact i can never erase. I was the one who failed to bring her to the hospital in time.

My grandpa didn't find any reason to keep on living, that's why he gave up so easily. My grandma found one and that brought her in a proper state of mind, though that realization came a little too late. That's what gives every person the strength to move on. At least one reason to keep on fighting, one reason to keep moving, that one reason that continues to give hope. I'm looking at my past, and there are so many things that i regret. There are moments of happiness, but they are all mixed with so many painful memories, things that i wish i could easily forget. I'm looking at my present life, and i fail to see anything of worth. There's just nothing. I try to look at my future, and the uncertainty is just so damn depressing. There's a hint of certainty, but that certainly looks bleak. It's that certainty that i do not want to face. It's not the future that i was hoping for. But i guess i'll just have to go with the flow, go wherever this monotonous life takes me. And I hope that somewhere down the road i would finally find my reason to keep fighting, my reason to keep on living. A person can only take so much, a person can only wait so much. It is uncertain at what point our travels would become tiresome. Without a definite target, to keep on walking would be deemed pointless. Without something to hold on to, sooner or later, any person is bound to give up.