Looking back. | December 2016

Sometimes I wish I stayed, but leaving gave me a reason to breathe.

I was browsing some Facebook a few moments, and came upon the pages of my old friends. Old, and not ex, because really, there's no bad blood between us. Just a lot of misunderstanding and miscommunication that was mostly due to me. Now I realize how much of a shitty friend I was and I wish someone called me out and guided me. Then again, stubborn me won't listen till I've learned things the hard way.

Anyway. So I was looking through their photos and posts, etc, and I saw how many moments I could've shared with them. I could've been part of an actual barkada, or had a solid group of college friends, but I guess that's not meant to be. Either I inherited my father's "loner" side or I just can't support long term friendships. I always have to make a mistake or do something wrong or offend someone and be too shy to admit my mistake which leads to a gap and a falling through.

To be honest, I don't see myself as a loner type of person. I mean, yeah I enjoy my alone time, but that's about it. I still enjoy time with friends and meeting new people and being there for them. I see myself as an open book, sharing my experiences and giving advice and showing my true self. Bubbly, as my ex-stepmother once said. Friendly would be what my grandmother would call me. Dependable, my teachers would say. Actively engaged is how my TL's would describe me. Confident, my friends and peers' first word for me.

And yet.

And yet, even after all those faces and personalities and so-called friendships, why is it that when the time comes, I can only call on God to listen to my deepest and darkest fears and my 2AM thoughts? Why can't I bring myself to call my bestfriends of 14++ years and talk about my insecurities? Why do I always keep the bad stuff from my family's ears? Why can't I cry my heart out in front of my boyfriend?

Why can't I let my hair down and bare myself naked -- truly naked to a fellow human being?

I don't really know.

All I know is that I have to be perfect all the time. Be happy all the time. Be accomplished. Be successful. Smile during the worst days of my life. Be a prim and perfect girl. Is that who I am? Or am I the feminist that I claim to be?

All I'm sure of is that something snapped in me a long time ago. Something got slashed away from me, which led to my inability to make a long term relationship.

Was it when I lost contact with my sister? When I was calling my grandmother everyday through a payphone because I was so scared and homesick that I would just cry then and there? When my father threw my childhood relics in front of me and disowned me? When puberty hit me like a motherfucking train and left me with scraps of my childhood?

Remembering those feels like reopening wounds that are not fully healed. Not sure if that makes sense, but let's go with it.

Reopening those wounds are not pleasant, so I'll just end this here.

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