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!