Nothing to do

i’m cleaning out my book-shelf-closet, the drawer that contains documents and certificates that confirm my existence, who i am, when i was born. it’s funny how your whole life can be so real to you, but turn out to be a figment of the imagination if nobody else knows of your existence. it doesn’t matter that you remember details about your birthday, memories of friends, how warm or cold or bright the day was when you first met the person you eventually end up sharing your bed with, if there’s nobody in power who can confirm your existence.

if my birth certificate and driver’s license and NBI clearance and all such documents were to disappear without a trace, who will i be? how will i live? should i keep my name? should i still believe that i’m a girl? will i suddenly feel older or younger? can i be someone else? will i WANT to be someone else? or will i fight, insist that all those 23 years or so of living were true, and that i don’t need papers to believe my memories?

i wonder what will happen if my birth certificate would suddenly disappear? what if all work-related documents - records of my contracts with my company, my employee number, my email address - were to disappear? would my coworkers look at our pictures and wonder, well then who was this girl we spent that day in the beach with? will they doubt the company, or will they doubt their own senses?

i just… it makes me sad to think that we have to have SOMEONE confirm our existence. if i don’t leave the house for more than a month, i’ll start to think im imagining my life - that i’m really in some asylum making up a family and a job and friends so i’ll have something to breathe for.

that’s why i like going out. it’s true what they say, going out among people makes you feel alive. have you ever felt like the only person in the world when you’re in your room, suddenly jerking awake in your bed in the middle of the night, and it’s all dark and you swear you can’t hear a single soul?

what if my school diplomas and exam records and receipts suddenly disappeared? will my friends insist that i’m real? that we even went to a wedding together? that i was there in their graduation, and i’m more real than any scrap of paper that could have belonged to anyone of the same name or any piece of photo with a face that could have been anybody’s? or will they think they’re going crazy, and try to forget memories of me because, well, nobody wants to spend a single minute in the nut-house right? besides, we only see and hear and smell as far as our body allows us. and how we feel… well if chocolate can imitate love, how can other emotions not be mimicked likewise?

and what about me? if i find out that i’ve been in a coma for three years and have dreamed this all up… will i insist that i wasn’t dreaming? that THIS is the dream and all i have to do is to wake up and everything will be back to normal again?

i’m sorry, i know i’m rambling. there is NO POINT to this entry. i just want to know that i’m not a character in somebody’s story…. sometimes i feel like everything i’ve been doing is routine, as if i’m following a trail that’s been mapped out for me. like i’m in a weekly sitcom that follows the same pattern, and of course as the audience, you know exactly what will happen, when the punch lines will be delivered, even when the plot twists.

i can’t be the only one who feels this way sometimes right? because if i am…. i guess im doomed….

in the midst of half-read books sitting in my shelf lies ‘waiting for my cats to die’ by stacy horn. i’ve been pretty slack when it comes to my reading lately, but i was just glued to this book. it’s usually witty fiction, fast-paced or dramatic, that gets me hooked, but this one’s not even fiction - it’s like reading a really long and sometimes redundant blog by a scared 40-year old (43 to be exact). but her thoughts are so real and basic that i found myself nodding my head and sharing her fears.

here’s the gist - she’s a tv-addict whose two cats are dying smack in the middle of her mid-life crisis, and since the future is a speck in the horizon, she’s desperately looking to the past for answers - about death, about what life is about, about meaning, about love. she loves graveyards because she says bringing lost names on those anonymous epitaphs to memory - getting to know about the bones that used to be people - is like scoring over death, because she’s bringing them back somehow.

here’s a short excerpt: "Someone like me is going to read my book someday and wonder, ‘Did she ever find it (love)?’ And maybe someone will know and say, ‘Nope. I heard she died alone with a bunch of cats.’ And the someone like me will reply, ‘That’s so sad.’ Then, if she’s really like me, she will wonder, Could that happen to me?"

i used to think i’m the only one who likes walking around in memorial parks and browsing through old yearbooks and wondering what happened to all those young, hopeful faces. whenever we’d visit my grandparents’ graveyards, i’d look at the epitaphs and compare each death date with the birth date. i felt sorry for those who died so young, and wondered about graves that looked unkempt and dirty. why didn’t anybody ever bother to visit? where are this young girl’s parents? i wonder if these used-to-be-people’s families really meant what they had engraved on the epitaphs, or if they were just generic messages that you’d find on every other epitaph.

then in college, one of my favorite spots was the back-section of the Filipiniana section of the UST library. behind the shelves, there’s this little nook by the window where i just cozy up and read. it’s totally silent there, and i can pretend im the only one in the whole library because the shelves hide me completely. and of course, it’s air-conditioned. hehe. i loved looking at the old yearbooks. the really old ones, like from the early 1900s’, only had a handful of students per course. i’d wonder if they ever got married, if they had kids, and if they did, if their kids went to UST too.

i’d wonder how many of them ended up with what they alway happy - a wife maybe, a career that pays well, kids, long life. and how much of them ended up being lost souls who didn’t really know what to do with their lives? how many of them died alone, on the streets, wondering where it all went wrong? how many stopped believing in a God, in family, in relationships, in themselves?

and finally, in the end… how was it like? do snapshots of your life flash before your eyes like in the movies? do you close your eyes as you take what you thought was your final dying breath, only to open them again a moment later to find yourself back in bed, all sweaty and shaky, having just woken up to realize that death is just a bad dream and life really has no end? how does it feel to know, that last few seconds, when you’re certain you’re going to die… what do you think of?

how do you know that your life has meaning? does it hit you? if your life where a resume, can you sum up your purpose in a single-statement objective? can you draw a map and put a check-mark beside every marker that lets you know you’re on the right track? how do you you’re living it right? is it POSSIBLE to live right? if i could talk to someone who’s already died - no spooky ghost scenes please! i’m thinking quiet meadow, with a white bench in the middle, over-looking the yellow flowers and the hills, sitting on the bench with a one of the names on the yearbooks looking just like they did in the black-and-white pages - i’d ask them if they have any regrets. does death show you the bloopers you never realized, and show you how you should have done things?

since i’m afraid of the paranormal, this scene would have to have a sound-of-music feel to it. hehehe….

in the book, stacy realizes that she can’t do much for the past, and the future is just a couple of dates and plans. it’s the present that matters - it’s the remedy to the past, the way to the future. it’s where the analysis, the execution, and the planning happens. it’s the only thing we have so sure, so we might as well make it count. since i read that book, i’ve been keeping count of things i’ve been doing. no, i’m not falling into that i-have-to-do-everything-i-havent-done-before trap that’s so easy to fail in. i’d rather keep track of the things that i AM doing, how happy they’ve made me, if i learned anything, if i was able to make them count. i don’t know if it’s a coincidence, but my weekends have been pretty full lately. i don’t go sky diving or party all night - but i have gone on a three-day vacation to the beach with my long-time friends, something i haven’t done before. i have stepped out of my comfort zone and gone on a new career path - i got promoted, and right now im just crazily trying not to mess everything up but all things considered, i’m ok.  i hang out people i don’t usually hang out with - i’ve been trying to step out of that glass wall i’ve carefully built around myself for protection and which ended up caging me in. i’m seeing myself as honestly as i can - i’m not as smart as i thought as i was, and writing isn’t really my passion, stories are, and i mistook my love for reading as passion for writing. i’m loving my job now, and i know some of my friends think i’ve sold out doing a no-brainer job for big bucks, but let me tell you, there’s nothing easy about this job - it’s challenging, it takes you by surprise, and you constantly have to be on your toes or your pink bubble of happiness will burst right in your face and create an ugly mess.

and so i realize - ive been alive for 23 years, and i still have no idea where i’m going, or even where i want to go. but then, no one really has a final destination. there’s always somewhere you have to be or something you have to do at a given time, and just maybe, life isn’t really about grand dreams of changing the world or being who everybody thinks you should be. maybe life is about whatever you’re doing at this very hour, who you’re with right now. if anything, life must be a jigsaw puzzle - you work it out piece by piece, with no scheme or plan to follow, just finding out that this piece fits here and the other fits there, and before you know it, you’re down to your last piece… and you can see the whole picture….

if your life is as uneventful as mine, a trek to the volcano and trip to the spa in tagaytay qualifies as an event. my dallas boss went here and wanted to go on the trek so we all went. ok, from the start….

so we checked in to the renaissance since the van was to leave at 7 am in the morning and i was sure i wouldn’t get myself to wake up after at least 9 hours of sleep after the previous day - hectic! we had our christmas party, i had 2 beers, and just 1 hour’s sleep that noon!

ok, so we went to tagaytag to trek to the top of tall volcano. i was wearing sandals so i thought i’d be comfortable enough. it just didn’t register that 3-inch sandals would make stepping over steep trails difficult… well how was i to know??? ive never been on a real trek before - i sort of thought we’d just be walking along this nice straight path with green grass at the side and flowers everywhere… i guess i was thinking alice in wonderland…

IN ALL FAIRNESS, despite my terrible choice of footwear, i made it. yep, this chubby, 3-inch sandals-clad smoker made it to the top of the volcano and back down without even making so much as a 3-minute stop. the view was really nice, and it was cool and windy at the top so my sweat dried up and i could pretend the stench was just the horse poop training the path.

the guide offered to have me ride back down on a horse. HA! i showed him! (besides, im afraid of heights)

we had to cross the lake to get to the volcano, which was in the middle of the lake. i got on the boat last so i ended up sitting at the very front, but the guide was kind enough to let me sit at the very back so i won’t get splashed on.

for some reason, i got wet the most.

you know the universe is against you when you bring out your umbrella and discover that it has holes all over it. very funny universe.

our plan was to get massages at sonya’s, but we weren’t sure if we brought enough cash, so we had to stop at atms. they were all offline. haha.

got to sonya’s, it was soooo beautiful!!! there were flowers everywhere, and pretty drapes, and huge carved tree trunks for benches. the only thing missing was unicorns.

our boss was vegan so we had to keep it all organic but the food was great… nice to eat to your heart’s content without feeling like a puffed balloon…

i had a foot spa and back massage… by a guy. it’s a good thing he was sort of, kind of, not ugly… ok ok he was cute! i tried to think of him as a professional as he massaged my feet, my legs, you know, the same way you’d think that it’s ok to let your doctor touch you since he’d know what he’s doing. he did my back massage too - this time, i had to keep up a chatter so he won’t notice my discomfort.

"ay kuya nabasa ko pala yung tuwalya nandun lang sa may shower."

(punch punch punch from the back down to my butt… hey!!!)

(he mutters but doesn’t really say anything… which makes me feel silly so i shut up)

i didn’t get to take pictures which was a shame because the only ones i had taken were when i was all sweaty and panting during the trek… so sue me for not being photogenic!!!

i’ll probably go back to sonya’s again… i ABSOLUTELY recommend going there for a day or two of R&R… and if i get another massage from the same guy, well, who am to complain right? hehe….

Couldn’t think of anything to write, was staring at the monitor for what seemed

like eternity with a blank page and mind wandering everywhere. Then I went

down for a yosi break with two officemates, and one of them was talking about

crying over a conversation she had with her friend, reminiscing about the past,

happy times and being grateful for all the good things that she’s had this part

year (Nina, your friend’s a wise girl J).

I remembered, it’s thanksgiving. Sure, it’s an American holiday, but we’re

getting 2 days off for this and I figured, anytime’s the best time for smiles and

thanks. So I made a mental list of the things that made a niche in my life for

the soon-to-be-over 2007, and I surprised myself by realizing that a

LOT

has

happened. I used to feel like the year just zoomed by, like I’ve been waiting

for the year to begin just as it is ending. Then it hit me – all these great

things have been happening to me all this time, and I’ve just been too big of

a brat to appreciate them and accept them for blessings. They’re not quite what

I wished for when I was contemplating life and the future when 07 was just

beginning. This post is dedicated to all the good things/people that got me

through my self-inflicted lows. J J J

Thanks for/to:

words, friends/friendship and everything in between, money, disappointment, hopes, pick-me-up knick knacks, comfort food, Korean films, DVDs (!!!), embarrassments, tiangges, red box, MUSIC, angst songs, badminton, rain, sunshine, the night, smokes, blue skies, gray days, anger, health, sad songs, sadness in general, meanness, fun, LAUGHTER, masks, beaches, coco beach (special mention!), support, understanding, books, stories, light, change, light-bulb moments, gratitude, work, chances, faith, love….

I can use up thousands of words to count the ways they’ve made my life

better. Suffice it to say, these are my life. These are what make people say

that the body is just a husk – empty without that thing that give meaning to

the coming and passing of time. The soul – this probably started when people

began to feel beyond the senses, when we realized that fire is not the only

thing that burns, and death is not the worst thing that can happen.

I offer my thanks J J J (with a smile, since as Jane said in the movie

“Becoming Jane”, a truth must always be said with a  smile, or else (I’ll)

be forced to regard it as a lie), to everything and everyone who makes me

think beyond the logical, that makes me feel beyond my skin. If someone is

looking down from the cosmos past the stars, it’s important to know… I’m

humming with joy. J

It seems I’m always fighting that low-spirits plane that I’m

constantly finding myself on these past few… mmm… weeks?

Months? I’ve listened to all my rant songs every night to keep

afloat (under pressure, just like heaven, collide, going under,

angels or devils, into the ocean, lips of an angel, etc.), and they

sometimes help, but at the end of the day, it’s all up to me. I

have to help myself. Have to keep from self-destructing. So,

here’s the mantra that I’ve been playing over and over in my

head:

Maybe if I try a little bit harder, they’ll see.

Maybe if I bend further backwards, I’ll get it.

Maybe if I give a little bit more, I’ll be rewarded.

Maybe if I wait a little longer, it’ll come.

Maybe if I keep smiling, I’ll find peace.

All in due time.

Once in a while, I revert back to my usual rants of I’m not pretty

or sexy so I have to work my ass off because I’ll never get no

slack from nobody (*see rants 2 posts ago for more). And that’s

true – there’s no one who can truly help me but myself. The

thought used to depress me.

I realized that I have to somehow make it work for my

advantage. It has to somehow make me stronger, push me

harder.

And it will. You’ll see. Just you wait.

i’ve only recently started listening to rolling stones and the cure songs. i never thought i’ve been missing out on this much! those years of not knowing their wisdom - such waste! ok, so they might be of the pepe smith specie, but their songs make me strong, and if you listen close enough, you just might find….

you get what you need… because…

you can’t always get what you want… you can’t always get what you want… you can’t always get what you want… but if you try sometimes, you just might find… you get what you need…

this is my present mantra. im at a point in my life where the things that im looking at from outside the store window are zooming past. so when….

pressure… pushing on you, no man ask for…

are you…

under pressure… that burns a building down, splits a family in two, puts poeple on streets… it’s the terror of knowing what this world’s about… watching some good friends screming, let me out… this is ourselves… under pressure…

… when it gets that bad, just sing: you can’t always get what you want… you can’t always get what you want… but if you try sometimes, you just might find… you get what you need…

… i know it’s old-fashioned, but it’s the only way that you can…

get some satisfaction… satisfaction…satisfaction…

now, more than ever, do i believe that age really is just a number. i’ll be 23 by the end of august, but i can’t name a single tangible change in my life no matter how hard i think. i didn’t lose weight, i’m in the same position i’ve been in since last year, i haven’t visited the places i’ve always wanted to visit (not even vigan) and i can’t park a car in a crowded lot if my life depended on it.

some people will say these are just the superficial stuff. but if getting the superficial stuff’s so darn hard for me, what more for the deep-inside-yourself stuff?

i’m trying not to be depressed - happiness being a state of mind and all that jazz. it just… makes me wonder - why do we bother counting the years when nothing changes anyway? why not measure life in terms of events? like, i remember i was in second grade because that was the time when my front tooth started growing back, or something like that. but then again, that’s just me.

im not ranting about life and the cosmos or anything… im just… getting a little impatient i guess. this isnt how i pictured my life would be when i was younger - this isnt where i thought id be 5 years ago when i turn 23. but then again, i’ve never even been to baguio, so what do i know right?

**********************************************************************************

ok ok… somebody commented that my blog’s a bit gloomy. so, a few laughs below:

DJ: “So Mimi, what’s going on there in

Quezon City

?”

Mimi: “Oh, I don’t know I’m inside the house.”

*******************************************************

As told by Mau:

Larry King interviewing Daniel Radcliffe

LK: So, if you were to have a super power, what would it be?

DR: (five seconds or so)

LK: (expecting an answer)

DR: Gosh that’s a hard question

DR: (five seconds or so)

LK: (What the hell’s wrong with this kid?) (expecting a joke as a reliever)

DR: (five seconds or so) I’m really stumped

LK: (you’re using up air-time) (expecting director to cut to commercial and save day)

DR: (silence)

LK: Well, how about world peace? How about having the power spreading world peace?

DR: Yeah… I kinda like that….

Mau: Waaahhhh!!! Bobo si Harry Potter!!!

*********************************************************

RANT: I hate it when people proudly say their Filipino is very poor, and that back at school, they got better grades in English than in Filipino. It’s silly. I mean, think about it, what does that make you? Obviously, it’s some kind of twisted status symbol: I speak barok English so I’m rich. As I said, twisted.

“I know, I’ve been living in the Philippines my whole 20 years or so of life, but really, I’m still barok in Filipino…hihi.”

Yeah right. This actually translates to: “I’m better at English than at Filipino – I even almost flunked Filipino.” What grade did you get in English then? “Um, 80. hihi.”

Moron. ARGH. Being verbally challenged is not something to be proud of, unless you’re making a stab at being funny by ridiculing yourself.

RANT: People who say what they think about you out loud. If you’re entitled to freedom of speed, I’m entitled to HATE you.

RANT: “Hoooo… diet diet… Ang sarap sarap kumain e…” I feel fat. Instead of complaining, I actually go ahead and do something about it by controlling what I eat as opposed to not eating anything. I know misery loves company, but please please please don’t daunt my efforts.

RANT: “Because it’s that way it’s supposed to be.”

Why should women subject to men? “Because it’s the way it’s supposed to be”

Why should men not show emotions? “Because it’s the way it’s supposed to be”

There’s ALWAYS a reason. You just have to be passionate enough to know what it is.

RANT: People who always, always, ALWAYS complain. Once in a while is interesting. But on every occasion, always about the same topic? Seriously, do I look interested?

RANT: “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Uh, no (It’s ok, really, I’m even smiling as I say it)” “Oh. Well don’t worry, darating din yan (smiling. I just want to swipe that smile off your face).” Yes. I know. You asked me, remember? I didn’t exactly volunteer the information. WHY do people think I need to be consoled???

RANT: “Ang seryoso mo naman… ngiti ka naman… / Wag mo isipin yun, iniisip ka rin nun.” Let’s get one thing straight: This is genetics at work. This is the way my face turned out when my mom’s egg and dad’s sperm were baked in the cosmic oven. I don’t frown for your attention or entertainment.

RANT: People who ask for your help, don’t give you any credit, and step ahead of you up the success ladder. I am NOT your counselor or parent or mentor who’ll just be thrilled to see you suck up what I have to get ahead. Friends and family not included – I’ll be genuinely happy to see people I’m fond of get ahead, if only for a step or 2. Honestly.

RANT: People who succeed by flirting. People who can hide away their ignorance by flirting. People who know they don’t have to lift a finger because they can get away with anything by flirting. Excessive giggling, inappropriate personal remarks. Probably because I can’t get away with it – I have to fight for every inch. Lucky me.

RANT: Parang. (Parang ganito yan e, Yung (blank) kasi, parang…etc. etc.). It is what it is. If not, then it’s not. Be straight to the point, and at least TRY to have confidence in what you have to say. Say what you mean.

RANT: Paligoy ligoy. Please. Be. Straight. To. The. POINT.

RANT: People who obviously prefer other people because they’re pretty or sexy or rich or cool. I’m not sexy (in the everyday sense of the word), I’m not pretty, and it’s exhausting to be a good girl and do the best that you can do all the time hoping that other people will notice. I get tired from fighting all the time. How nice do I have be to get a break?

RANT: People who obviously cut other people TOO much slack out of pity. That’s an unfair advantage – I’m not always, naturally lovable. I’m bitter. So sue me.

RANT: People who complain about their bodies ALL THE TIME. Get your nose done, do lipo, have your consciousness transferred to an altogether different body – I don’t care, do something about it! Nobody is perfect. It’s wrong to dump insecurities on someone else. Fight it, deal with it.

RANT: People who get praised and noticed by EVERYONE for small things when you’re saving the world and noone even cares.

RANT: People who thwart plans and good intentions by mockery or ridicule. It’s not my fault you can’t come up with a decent creative idea if your life depended on it. Don’t take it out on me.

RANT: People who play dumb because it’s cute (for crying out loud!). That only works for Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, and Jessica Simpson. Stupidity is a way of life, not a trait.

RANT: Lazy asses with big dreams. Seriously.

RANT: MGA PAPANSIN (is suddenly nice to you when other people are looking, talks out loud about the most nonsensical things when everybody’s listening, makes a fuss over the silliest things)

RANT: People who make up stories to seem cool. BARBERO. This takes the cake. This is not only irritating, but disturbing.

RANT: Stupid people who think they’re smart and think you’re stupid. It takes all the strength I have to not strangle people of this kind when (these are what usually happen): -

• Person A, not getting what you’re saying, will start raising Person A’s voice when explaining their reason, their side of the story, thinking that you don’t get it. If you don’t get it, you’ll require them to explain better, not to shout. They think you’re stupid, not deaf remember?

• Person A, not getting what you’re saying but thinking you’re stupid, will insist on their reason, oblivious to the fact that Person A is repeating Person A’s reason over and over again. Yes, it’s a vicious circle. As the saying goes, mahirap makipagtalo sa tanga.

RANT: SPOILED BRATS

(AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

No, just because you insist on getting what you want doesn’t mean you’re a spoiled brat. Emphasis on the word get, actually doing something about it. Moping and crying and pulling at your hair in the hopes that you’ll get what was denied you shows total lack of comprehension which nobody should be proud of. There’s a difference between not getting what you worked for and not getting what you asked for. Spoiled brats only ask.

(AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

(AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

(AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

i’ve always been the peacemaker. ive accepted that role a long time ago because somebody has to be that person. somebody has to be quiet and still and strong when everyone’s gone crazy. somebody has to hold the world steady when it’s spun out of control. that’s me. i think i might have an atlas complex, the world on his shoulders. it can be very frustrating and exhausting, but somebody has to do it.

if you ask me if something’s wrong, if im ok, ill say i am. as long as i can hold it in, i will. i hate bothering people, i hate knocking on somebody’s door for help. i’ll shoulder what i can.

maybe that’s why im barely noticeable. i stay out of everybody’s way because i dont want to be a bother. but it would be nice if, once in a while, the attention shifts to me - i can use some support. i know i should do something to let people know if i need them. but how?

what should i do so you’d see me?

i saw this article in the internet that says irregular sleeping habits can cause mood disorders and depression. id like to say this is the reason for my mood swings, but the people i work with seem pretty normal, so this argument doesn’t seem to hold much water.

it might be that "STUPID" thing at work that’s got me all worked up - i even cried once. it’s just that this "STUPID" thing was having another episode, and my chest felt so tight and squeezed and i had to go to the bathroom - anywhere away from "STUPID". so there i was inside the cubicle, just sitting on the toilet with the seat down, thinking of how i could feel better. then it hit me-what if i cried? would it make me feel better? i did - i couldn’t stop once i started. it was childish and immature and indulgent and i felt silly afterwards.

which is why i have to put an end to these mood swings, because i hate crying because crying makes me feel silly and stupid afterwards. and yes, my posts don’t make sense when i’m depressed. i need to pull myself together and DO SOMETHING. and that’s exactly what im trying to do - with cold presicion and logic, i like to believe. it’s just that sometimes, i do feel powerless. sometimes, the rage is just SO GREAT, and instead of smashing my PC, i cry. yeah im learning to control my temper. in the past, i would have had an unsuppressable need to smash something - it was still there, but suppress it, i did. 

then there are times when i just dont care, and i feel that any effort i can exert will just be a waste of time. sometimes, i just dont want to bother. but it can never last, because i know i DO care. im good at it, DAMMIT!!!! im one of the best!!!!!!! and I WONT LET ANYONE TELL ME OR MAKE ME FEEL OTHERWISE!!!!!!!!!

so, this is a promise. i promise to never let them do that to me again - intentional or not, it hurt.

nobody has the right to trample on what ive built.

i WILL be heard.

i can live without it - it needs me more than i need it. which is why i won’t let it matter too much. i wont be afraid to do what i want as long as i know it’s right.

you’ll see…