This is fate. This is destiny.

Perhaps there is really an intended design of the universe, designed by The Malevolent Designer: That no matter what you do or not do, you will and will always arrive at your destiny. Whether you like it or not, every day of your life is a step towards your final end. There is no stopping. You cannot do anything about or against it but to just go with the flow until you become The Malevolent Designer’s intended form, until you have served your purpose – to please The Malevolent Designer, by being wretched!

I’ve been telling my students to look or search for the meaning of their existence; to ask themselves what is the purpose of their life, to ask what is their meaning. I speak about bravery, strength of character, and the courage to say, “Yes” to life, despite frustrations and difficulties that they are encountering right now, or obstacles that they are yet to encounter. Yet every time those words of encouragements come out of my mouth, my heart keeps on protesting, shouting against the words I was saying.

Lately it has been really difficult for me to speak in my classes because I, myself, am not convinced with what I was saying already. I’ve been telling rose-colored things to my students that are totally in contradiction with what I feel, with what my soul is shouting at the moment. Yet I cannot stop. I must not stop. It is my job to talk and talk and talk in class and I am paid for it. I no longer have a work; I only have a job. Yeah, maybe, sooner or later I will just be like everybody else: corrupt, and does things only because of money, money, money, and money!!!

And I hate my self for these!!!

Easier said than done

The comment of JustAHuman in one of my poems still rings through my head: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you did'nt do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.“

There are really lots of things that I want to do but I just can’t; I’ve got lots of responsibilities. I don’t know, duties, obligations, etc. I really feel as if I am driven by everyone, especially my own family. I’ve got lots of things to prove, lots of things to improve, lots of things to maintain, lots of things that must be accomplished, lots of things to… aahhh… I’m tired! But I can’t just stop and rest. I’ve got to move.
I live in haste…always in haste!

I wish I had the courage to just do what I want to do, to live my life. But how can I? If I live for other people, I suffer. If I live just for my self, I also suffer. What then is the difference between living and not living an authentic life? I can’t see. I can’t see.

“Falling in love.” Just the thought of it makes me shiver, terrified, afraid! Love has brought destruction to my family, especially to my mom. It has brought destruction to the people around me, to the environment I grew up with, especially to women, implanting terrible consequences to my soul. And although I’ve been doing my best to forget, it is just so difficult to let go. Those images of misery just can’t get out of my mind.

My colleagues, friends and co-workers never see me being romantically involved with the opposite sex. How could they? I don’t have a boyfriend. I never had a boyfriend! Sometimes I can’t help but to be upset every time people tell me that I ought to get married now, or at least have a boyfriend. Sometimes they’re even the ones setting up dates for me. It’s not that I’m too ugly not to have any suitors and admirers; it’s just that I don’t want to. I don’t need to (at least for now). I can have friends but definitely not “lovers”!

I am aware that people often associate being alone as being lonely, but I’m not. Well, okay, I admit I am lonely and melancholic. But it’s not because I’m alone. Rather, it is because I feel most lost when I’m with the crowd.
I’m the type of person who loves to be alone with my self, and although many times I tried to reach out to people and get out of my cocoon, I always find my self longing to be in solitude. Although I am open with the possibility that I will also be married someday and have my own child, at the moment I just can’t imagine my self, involved in a romantic relationship with the other sex. Sometimes I am pressured and can’t help but to be bothered by my colleague and co-workers who are always teasing me. But hell! I think I’m self-sufficient.

I can’t force myself to love someone or to pretend to love someone just to show the world that finally, I am “romantically involved.” Why should I force myself just to please others, to meet their standards? Whatever…

When the time comes, it will just come….

It’s been so long since the last time I looked at the stars at night. Time has passed, too fast that I didn’t even notice how much my face has changed. I have indeed grown old! Things are really different now, very different. Or is it?

I don’t know what really happened… as if I’ve gone to many different worlds, to another universe. Everything was uncertain. Everything is uncertain.

One thing is for sure though - that I’ve missed a lot…

that I’ve missed my life.

why?

Why do we have to laugh when we feel like crying?
Why do we have to smile when we feel like bursting into tears?
Why do we have to pretend to be strong when we feel like kneeling down?
Why do we have to mature so fast without experiencing how it is to be a little child?
Why do we have to search for the truth when in the end you’ll only regret what you’ll find out?
Why should one continue living when s/he desperately needs to die?

Why….

What is there to be afraid of? Nothing. What happen happens.
Life is a mystery, so don’t problem about tomorrow anymore.
Live every moment of your life at a time. Just let the days pass by.
You’re still breathing now but who knows you’ll be in your grave later.
Don’t be afraid of death; instead, be thankful of it because it’s a solace.
Yes, death is a solace!

Whoa…. Why am I posting these?…
It’s my world anyway…. So…
the following are just some of the comments, cards and letters given to me by some of my students under the course title, Philosophy of Man.

Thank you for everything poh! = )
I’ve really learned a lot from you
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Salamat poh sa lahat ng tinuro niyo! Dami ko po natutunan…
God Bless Po!
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Thank you so much for everything that you imparted to us. In some ways, you were able to change our lives through all your teachings and you have helped us to realize ourselves. Your part in our lives is definitely remarkable to all of us. In the short time that we have been together, you were able to help us to appreciate ourselves and try to know the meaning of our lives. Thank you for being patient to all of us and teaching us what you know. We’re grateful for the opportunity that you have been our teacher. Thank you so much for everything and we’re looking forward on seeing you again.
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Thank You!Salamat!
Agyaman kami!
It was appreciated!
Dacal Salamat!
Daghag Salamat!
“You will be remembered forever.”
Take Care!
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Thank you po ma’am for being with us. For the times we are in front of you, I enjoy every single moment we are sharing, laughing and discussing.
Thank for everything.
Best regards to you and God Bless You.
Sana makasama pa namin kayo.
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salamat po sa pagpa2xncia po samin at sori po if nahurt po nmn kau
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Ma’am, I just want to say Thank You! I’ve learned a lot from you, you’ve helped me widen my knowledge about life. Experiencing what real freedom is. What love is and all. Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us. I really can’t enumerate all things I’ve learned from you…there’s a lot words can’t say.
I have learned a lot and experienced some of it. And now as we all continue, I hope in our prayers and hopes, we will continue this life with strength. Discover ourselves and share our knowledge and our experiences…
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Hi! Maam,
Thanks po for everything you taught us and I really learned a lot…
So, I just wanna say, Gud luck po and I wish you all the best…
Enjoy life… :-)
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Please don’t lose hope for humanity. Not to flatter you ma’am but honestly to me you are the best philosophy instructor. And I’m sure my classmates feel the same way as I do. I am very thankful that you became our instructor; I enjoyed each and every moment of our class. I’ve learned a lot from you, which helps me become a better person.
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Ma’am honestly you have such a very strong influenced in me. You changed the way I look at reality and life. Thank you very much!
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Thank you for the human in you…
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When I am able to touch other people’s heart and helped them go back to the core of their being, my hope for humanity is gradually reviving. I’ve showed them the other sides of reality, the multifarious colors of life, the joyous and melancholic sounds of music…and they were disturbed, awakened, cried, began to question, to search….

Yes, to search….

I graduated Bachelor of Philosophy just last year, April 2004, and it was my first time to teach, formally as an instructor in my Alma Mater – Saint Louis University, Baguio City, during the 1st semester of school year 2005-2006. I never dreamed of becoming a teacher (especially a philosophy “teacher”!)! But hell! Here I am, teaching!

Even when I was in the undergrad, of all the branches of philosophy, I hated Logic so much! I told my superiors they could give me any of the branches or major subjects in philosophy except Logic and yet, they have given me 18 units teaching load for Logic! And only 6 units for the Philosophy of Man! (Actually I had 12 units for each subjects during the prelims and then comes midterm, there was a reshuffling of philo instructors for some stupid reasons, taking my 2 ‘philo of man’ classes, replacing it with 2 other logic classes! Humph!) Many or most of my students in the Philosophy of Man adored me, idolized me, looked up to me, and even claimed, young as I am, I’m the best teacher they ever had! What a lovely melody to the ear, right? Yet when it comes to my classes in Logic, I felt crap, stupid, incompetent.

I got very high score in the Department Head and the Director’s Evaluation during the class observation because it just so happened that the director went to my Philosophy of Man classes. The director was impressed for my mastery of the subject matter, for my excellent teaching method, and praises, praises, praises. However, I am not sure of the Student’s Evaluation of me because misfortune of all misfortunes, the director went to my most hated class in logic, and curse of all curse, I walked out of that class just a meeting before the evaluation! (We meet every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I walked out on Saturday, and the Student’s Evaluation was on Tuesday, at random). Because the class were so noisy and were complaining a lot regarding their exam scores for not reading and not following the instructions, as clearly stated in their test papers, and because I was actually not feeling well on that Saturday but I still entered my class, I became so sensitive and felt disrespected and preferred to leave the class although it was too early for class dismissal. Damn! Make one mistake and you’re doomed!

Ah, whatever…. Just as not everyone will hate and curse you, not everyone will love and like you. As seen in the list of Student’s comments, it is divided,or shall I say, inconsistent. Some thinks I’m good, some thinks I’m worse. Some liked me; some are not. Anyway, the 1st semester is over and I’ve learned a lot from it. I promise to keep on improving my teaching method, and be the best “teacher” that I can be. ;- )

Student's Comments

A while ago the secretary of the director of the Institute of Philosophy and Religion handed me a copy of the comments of some of my students in Logic - the class wherein I once walked out. Here it is…

- She discusses the subject matter clearly to be understood, but sometimes not.
- Please don’t walk our again. (Yes, never again)
- Don’t let your students overcome yourself. Don’t walk out.

- She should be more patient to her students.
(Well yes. But sometimes enough is enough!)

- She should know how to smile and not to look as if she is always angry at everybody. She must talk properly and clearly so that we could understand the lesson.
(Honestly I’ve always been the serious type of person, heheh! And hey, I talk properly but I’m just not used talking loudly, I’ve always been soft-spoken person so those who are seated at the back can’t hear my voice clearly).

- Improve your teaching. (Yes I will)
- Friendly, approachable. (Thank You)

- She masters the subject, but she does not excel in teaching it. (
Yes, this is actually the primary reason why I don’t want to teach Logic! It stays in my head and I don’t now how to share/to communicate it!)

Sometimes she does not apply the principles in it, and she makes errors in the recent exams. She just returned the paper and went away. There is no consideration for any corrections.
(No one is perfect, heheh! And oh, I’ve already made lots of considerations just to increase your grades, and you were already used to it, and so you don’t use your mind anymore so that even simple instruction you cannot follow).

- Ms. Abordo is very patient to her students. She is also very approachable and has a good or she knows good relation to her students.
(Thank you very much!)

- She must improve her teachings…
- Improve her teaching and her approach to the students. Also improve her attitude. ( ;-) Ouch!)
- She’s happy most of the time, which is a good thing because not all teachers and instructors do. At times she gives second chances to students who failed the quiz to bring up their grade through seat works. (Thank You!)

- Ma’am you need more practice…since it’s your first year of teaching, we can’t blame you but please improve for the betterment of Louisians…anyway, thanks!
(You’re welcome, and thanks also)

- Good luck to your other years to come.
- Ma’am Abordo is nice. She’s a good teacher and I do like her. Keep up the good work.
(I’ll keep the good work; I’ll improve whatever is lacking. Thanks!)

Think for a moment of what it would be like to have the remainder of your life laid out in front of you, in detail.

If we know where our life is leading to, would we still do the things we want to do if in the first place what will happen in the future is already right before our eyes – that we/you aren’t going to succeed anyway? Or will there even be excitement when we already know what lies in the future?

I guess this is the beauty of mystery - to anticipate, to hope, to take a leap to the ‘beyond’.

Many of us just refuse to travel back to the core of ones being. Whenever the person tries to introspect, that is if ever s/he tries, s/he just couldn’t accept his/her deformities, weakness. I think there is indeed truth with the saying that “Truth hurt,” most of the time.When other people criticize us, or point to us our weaknesses, often we hold grudges towards the other, hate them, abhor them. What they may be saying are not true of who we really are, but most often than not we have such resentments because what they’re saying are indeed true and we just cannot, or shall I say don’t want to accept it, don’t want to recognize it

…and so the ugly reality of what we are keeps on banging into our face because we don’t learn.

We refuse to learn.

Is it wise to assume that every solution has a problem or that every answer has a question?

Whatever…

For now I just want to believe that every problem has a solution or that every question has an answer…

What is the difference between noise and silence?

Nothing!!!

If anything is meant to last forever, it is change. Nothing is permanent except change: people change, things change, the world change…beings change.

Because of change nothing is certain…

I’m not certain who and what I was. Who and what I will be. Nor who and what I am right now. Where have I been? Where will I be? Where am I?

How can I bring together the broken pieces of my soul?

I’ve been going back to the beginning to fix the shattered being that was left behind…

but it seem to have been lost forever.

How can I find, grasp, or even embrace that soul when for a long time wondering in the dark abyss…

it has already ceased to exist…

physicality doesn't come with age

Do you look much older than your age? I am. I remember when I was still at grade five when a man who is eighteen years older than I, was trying to flatter me with all those words that most species of my kind loves to hear - telling you to have the beauty of a goddess, the kindness of a person asleep, the industriousness of an ant, etcetera, even though you’re not. Funny how most men I know have the same style just to trap a ladies heart, huh! I didn’t fall into his trap though because first and foremost I was too young for those things, and second first and foremost he is not handsome! (Indeed there is first first and second first, heheh!) Call me superficial but come on…get real! Physical attractiveness often land at the top list, if not the topmost, of one’s criteria of who and what kind of lover one wishes to “have.” Anyway because the man thought I was already 16 or 17 year-old, he started courting me, only to feel ashamed when he later found out that I was only 11 year-old! I’ve also observed that most men who get “interested” of me are at least 8 to 10 years and up, older than I am. Can we consider them pederasts? Nah. It was my appearance’s fault. Can’t blame them for “falling in love” with the beauty of a woman when she is still actually a girly girl. Whoa! (Do you think a storm is approaching already? Just let me carry my own chair, after all, it is only in imagining and writing that I can become whatever I wanted to become). Well anyway, I also had some childhood puppy loves; Tin-Tin my favorite, her brother Tan-Tan, their mother Delilah…I loved puppies, heheh! If you’re thinking of humans, forget it, heheh! ;-)


What am I saying in here?
Ok, I’ll get serious now….

Ah, forget ‘bout it. I don’t wanna be the next one being lamented in the funeral soon, you know (Well, that is, if ever there are people, or even someone to lament my death, heheh). Now, where am I… Uh, yes, because my father is so strict I remember that some college ladies would even have to ask my dad’s permission if I could be their friend saying, “Uncle pwede ba naming maging kaibigan si ate Anabelle?” Gosh! I was only in my high school years yet those college students were addressing me as “ate” or “manang” already! ggrrrrrrr!!! Hey I am not an over-age either, ok. It’s just that I really look older than my age.

I think the reason is more because of thinking too much. I’m not saying I am a genius because I am not; I’m simply the moron of morons. Well anyway, I always appeared to be serious all the time, aloof, and distanced. I don’t know but I used to busy myself thinking of possible solutions of how to eliminate the virus that has consumed the human heart. Perfectionist that I was (well sometimes, I still am), I easily get depressed with people, with things around me, and even with myself, that I often withdraw to my distant world. I considered the world, or life for that matter as a problem to be solved, rather than seeing it as a gift to be enjoyed. Moreover, with the kind of family that I grew up with, my ability to paint my life with bright colors was crippled, that I just often find my works dominated with dark hues. I was really crazy (actually I still am, only in different ways now, bwe,hehehe) thinking I was a hero, born to save the world from its impending doom. But thank God (if there is God) I woke up from that long nightmare and realized that the world doesn’t need a hero after all. Or, even if they needed some, or one hero, they fail to appreciate them anyway. What’s the sense? Thank God (if there is God) I woke up to my senses and realize that I am not a hero after all. I never was, and never will be one. I was just pretending, and it’s all over.

Some people consider me deep, mature, and grown up beyond my years. Well not because I look older than my age but because I always seem to be serious, cultured, mannered. But honestly I am still immature, “childish,” “mababaw” in a lot of ways. Being serious does not necessarily mean maturity. Stop smiling does not necessarily mean being a grown up person already. Aside from being dominated by a black bile, that is, aside from having this melancholic temperament, I was “forced” to “grow old” at the very young age. I had to be “serious,” to assume responsibilities, and if possible to stop fantasizing already. But then it was (and still) my imaginative ability that saved me from total self-destruction. If I can’t be a child in real world, why can’t I be one in my world of fantasy, right? It is by holding on to ones dreams that one can still manage to smile though reality is to be lamented upon. Sometimes it becomes more depressing though, knowing that oftentimes it is difficult to extend that light from the world of illusions to reality.

Here I am, 22 years old, and it’s only now that I am beginning to feel how it is to be a child. Being serious could be so tiring. I also want to laugh out loud, to shout at the top of my lungs, to sing though it may cause storms and thunders, to dance though it may cause earthquakes, to write as if no one is going to read it, not minding my poor sentence and grammar construction, to draw my master pieces although they may just be crap to others, to speak my truth, my dreams – or die in the attempt.

Somewhere else I read that we don’t stop playing because we grow old. We grow old because we stop playing. To my fellow student of life, life is too short to waste it. Growing up doesn’t mean adhering to society’s standards, or to old people’s criteria of ways of living. Growing up is learning to be oneself, affirming what life has to offer regardless of how miserable it seems, at the same time giving ones best to live authentically.

My aunt once told me, “Smile not because there are reasons to smile but because your smile itself may give others the reason to smile,” or something like that. Whether one looks older than her/his age or not, or whether one is indeed biologically speaking, old or not, may we at least be young at heart, like an animated child at play. Let our motto be, “My existence, My pleasure!”

Love and Hate Collide

Was there ever a time wherein you hated someone (or perhaps still hate him/her) yet there is still an element of love that you feel for that someone, and so you now tend to hate your self too, for still loving that person despite the fact that you hate(d) that person so much?

Deep inside me I was so happy when I saw my dad cry in front of me! I was so happy he came to realize he is not at all a god; that he is poor, weak, wretched! For the first time he called me “anak!” Am I supposed to be proud of that? No! I felt shameful, disgusted, for someone like him owing me as his own child! I never wanted him to be my father, nor be his daughter. I am never proud that part of my being came from him. Never!

As I reminisce that event in time, I always seem to be elevated. Wow! For the first time a god asked for my strength! For the first time a god wanted to hear my voice, willing to listen. For the first time he wanted to “see” me. I was in bliss for knowing that someone like him also knows how to say “please,” also knows how to cry, also know how it is to be hurt. I thought he doesn’t have a heart, and that he is like a statue that is just incapable of crying, of feeling. For one, all my life he showed stubbornness, thinking he is a god, an all-knowing, the strongest man, the most responsible husband to a wife (to his wives/women/concubines!), and the most responsible father to his children. Finally he has proven himself wrong. Yes, he is wrong! I was glad he came to discover that. I was really, really glad!

If only I could lengthen the time of his sufferings…if only I could make him cry more…I would! But he is still my father. Although I hated those people who almost destroyed my family, at the back of my mind I was thanking them for being more powerful than my dad because they were able to devastate him – to make him feel hopeless, weak, stupid, wretched! Thanks to them, for they were able to make him realize he is nothing! How I wished they could have inflicted him more pain, drained more tears, and crash into pieces his towering pride! For the first time he asked me to save them…to save him! The world turned upside down; he needed my help – someone he has always put down, calling “Idiot! Hopeless! No bright future!” etcetera.

But why? Why do I still love him? He shattered my soul, devastated my being! Things were never enough for him…. because he is too much – much boastfulness, much greediness, much pretensions, sadistic, torturer, psychic vampire, self-righteous! But why do I still want to please him? Stupid thoughts I have! I still want to prove to him I am much, more than what he thought of me, by wanting to give him more material wealth, fame, prestige, and power, as I carry this foul, shameful family name I inherited. Shit!

Just because I wanted to prove him I am not who he think I was, just because I wanted to show him what I really got, just as he crushed my heart, mind, and soul…instead of inflicting him pain emotionally, I seem to make him happier, delighted. His happiness is my misery. Yet I’m also in pain seeing him miserable. Why do I still want him to be proud of me when all he has given me are heartaches? How much my mom and us-his children, has suffered from his egoistic existence.

How dare is he to claim for himself the sacrifices given to me for my education when it is actually my mom who has given the most, who has sacrificed the most! How dare is he to claim to have suffered from us when it is actually us who has suffered too much from his devilish, selfish, self-righteous, pretentious attitude! How dare is he!!!! And how dare am I to still want to make him happy, to give him luxury…so he could boast more, be proud more, be a god-pretender more. How dare am I to feel as if it is one of the greatest achievement I ever had, or will ever have, for a devil like him being proud of me, and consider me his Ace. How dare am I!!!! How dare am I…. I’m just so stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Where am I going? I have no idea….I always plan things ahead of time, but oftentimes events just don’t turn out the way I wanted them to be. If one cannot cope with the changes of time, then s/he may be doomed.I guess to live is to be flexible, like the bamboo tree that is able to bend with the course of the wind.

different

Sometimes I pity them for being so simple; for not dreaming as much, for finding pleasure to small things. They’re just too shallow. I look at them with disgust, with shame! They could be more, they could have done more but no, they content themselves with the little things that they have.

I prided my self for being complicated, for my flying ambitions, for having a high taste of art, for being considered intellectual (or perhaps I’m just pretending to be one? I have proven so little. Or maybe I have not proven anything yet…) But who is suffering more? Who… Why… Why do I feel wretched, lost? Being deep I am drowned. Flying high I can’t breath. The more I thought I am magnanimous the more I come to pity myself for magnanimity because the more I see that I am useless, senseless, different. Yes, different!

…I wish I am normal.

one can choose to be happy despite all the evil things that s/he is seeing, despite all the pains s/he is suffering from, or just keep on whining for his/her existence because the world is harsh and cold.…but then, there are just lots of things that are not in our control that sometimes we just have to kneel down and cry.

i don't care...

Why the hell should I keep looking for life’s meaning when there is actually no meaning?!
Why the hell striving to be a good person when man is actually a wolf to one another?!!
Why the hell trying to “save” the world when I could not even save myself from this emptiness and wretchedness I feel inside?!!!
Why the hell trying to be solemn and gentle when all I wanted right now is to shout out loud, to let the world know I am angry, to let them know I am hurt, too…

Why go on pretending? Why?

I want to kick that person’s ass! To smash the chairs! To break the glasses!
I want to create trouble with people! Fight with them! Slap them! Spit on them!!!
I don’t care what will happen!
I don’t care what will they think of me…
I don’t care if they will abhor me! If they will hate me!
Go on…curse me!!!!
I’m done! The world shits!! People shits!!! Life shit!!!!

People have been turned into zombie-like creatures because of custom and habits. Since we are used to be doing the same things, seeing the same things, et cetera, many of use are not critical or rather refuse to be critical anymore. People’s actions become mechanical that many don’t even sit down for a while and reflect for a moment where their lives are leading.

seeing darkness through the shadows

I don’t know if to be born in this world is a blessing or a curse. Oftentimes I find myself asking if I should be thankful I was given life. Here I am lying in my soft bed, sheltered in a strong house, protected from the cruel tempest outside, got wonderful friends, and a very understanding, loving, and supportive mother. Yet despite all these I always come to the point of concluding there’s really nothing that I should be thankful of.

How can I be comfortable lying in my bed when I know there are lots of people who are suffering outside, trying to ease themselves lying in a cold cement; people who could hardly able to sleep tonight from the savage storm? How could I? How can I? How can I claim life is beautiful even though I am surrounded by colorful flowers, hearing lovely music, reading philosophical novels, watching immortal work of arts, and a lot more, when at the back of my mind all these things are only a part and parcel of reality. For whenever I go down from the clouds and am with people, acquaint myself with the common masses; I see wider reality – a grotesque reality. How can I laugh when I always hear people’s cry?

Am I just too demanding? A perfectionist that is never satisfied with what I have? A hopeless ambitious who wanted to travel the world in search for magnificent views, yet fails to appreciate the things around me? Or perhaps a lost soul in the universe, finding meaning in nothingness? Or an idealist who wanted to promote peace, yet in constant war with my own self? I don’t know! I don’t know….

They say things are easier said than done. Or does it? Sometimes we just have to do things and let the moments pass without uttering a single word. Or, do we even need to act at all?Sometimes just allowing ourselves to be lost in nothingness eases the pain that one is suffering from…inside….

stranger

I’ve been trying to travel back to the times when I was still very shy and wretchedly suffering from inferiority complex. But I can no longer conceive how it felt. I know that for most of my life this has been the greatest battle I had ever faced – to overcome my sense of inferiority and learn to affirm my self. I’ve always known that I am much, more than what meets the eye. I knew deep inside that I have more to give, better things to share, to offer, than what I am usually showing to people. But as to how to bring myself out, I didn’t know. I don’t know.

I developed a sense of shame and doubt; a very low self-image and self-esteem that almost all my school years I’ve always preferred to stay at the back of our class. And whenever the teacher calls my name, I really have to die at that very moment (I needed to die!). I would suddenly be lost in the universe that even though I had lots of ideas to say and reflections to share, I often found my self trembling in fright, which make it very difficult for me to utter any word, which often give people the impression that I am the idiot of all idiots, or the moron of all morons for that matter. Funny I even tried any reading materials that give tips or information how to improve oneself. I watched movies or talk shows that gives advice and heard many people around who cares (or rather pretend to care) sharing their words of encouragement. Yet still, I could not save my self from this misery.

Everyday seemed to be a tormenting hell that I’d rather withdraw from the cold world outside into my own universe. I have been a living dead. But as if resurrected from the grave, a new person emerged; a new me was born!

Tonight, as I try to reminisce the person I used to be, I can only remember I’ve been a crap but I don’t know, nor remember how it used to feel like it anymore. Now I tend to look at people who have an inferiority complex as I had suffered before, with embarrassment and disgust! I hate looking at them.

But why? Why? I used to be like them. I am supposed to be the one to understand them better…but I don’t. I don’t like them. Is it because they remind me of who I was? Perhaps. But isn’t it that I can no longer remember how it felt… Is it because the “old me” is indeed dead? But then again, yes, I don’t feel anymore…but I still remember…. I remember how people crashed my soul, shattered my being, and devastated my life. I wanted to inflict them pain. I wanted revenge! I crave for their wretchedness! WHY?

I learned to trust my self, to affirm my self, to face giant people, to affirm life no matter how strong the storms and thundering are before me. But I am not sure if I have become a better person or not. I’m not sure… I don’t know…

Nevertheless I want to believe that I have become better. Or if not, at least to pretend I am a better person now, as compared to who and what I used to be…

Yesterday I was living in my past.

Today I am living for tomorrow.

Why can’t I live now?

Tomorrow, can I live “now?”