kill me just once

They killed me.
My heart stopped beating. My sweat glands poured outrageous liquids. My body quivered. And then, everything turned blurry. Right then and there, at the corner of our small place, I’m dead.
I became a good daughter, a good sister, and an outstanding student but what did I get out of it? I can’t feel satisfaction in my life and I think that I can never be contented with my life. How can I prove myself? How can I face the world well in fact its turning its back on me? I just can’t figure it out. I know I’m lost. And I don’t want to be lost forever.
My tears dropped down to my cheeks until it fell down to my cold trembling knees. I’m not sobbing. I’m standing still with my fist closed pressuring its bones to release enough strength. My mind was confused. It can’t focus on what my parents were saying. I can’t open my mouth and every time I tried to, there’s no sound coming out. I’m so helpless. I whish I could just disappear because life is so cruel.
My mistakes are such a big deal. The people around me can’t get over with it. They wanted to inculcate it in my mind until I feel the pain of the reality of living. What about my good deeds? Where is it? Am I that bad? I’m so tired of crying. I’m so tired feeling pity for myself.
I’m always praying for a perfect family but I think that with me, present in a family, they can never attain it. It’s what I feel. It’s how they make me feel. They push me out of their circle. They want me leaving them in peace. Those are the times when I’m hardheaded. They want me out of the house whenever I did something bad for them like going home late
(12mn at most), breaking a vase because I’m clumsy, scolding my younger sister for a valid reason of course, and answering them back when needed. Is it a mortal sin? Nah, I don’t think so.
But that moment, when I was in the corner, trembling, that was for a different reason. They want my boyfriend out of my life. From two years and eight months, I’m used to having him beside me, but now, they want us to stop our relationship. For two years and eight months, we’re illegal. We have a rule in our family, that is, to finish studying first and find a stable job before entering a relationship. Imagine, we lasted that long without my parents knowing it. My sisters don’t know it either because I know that they won’t tolerate me. That very moment, they killed me. Now, I’m suffering for a double reason. First, I can’t have my boyfriend back because I just can’t assert my feelings because I do love my parents and I don’t want to hurt their feelings. Second, I can’t have their trust again. That’s the hardest reality that I can’t accept.
I’m struggling to make them happy. I’m studying hard to prove to them that I’m worthy. I need to prove something big not for my family but for myself. I ant to stand up again and say that I’m strong enough to face the challenges the world is giving me.
How I wish my life starts from being old then I’m going to die as a baby, happy, innocent, and carefree. That’s my biggest wish and also one thing that I can’t achieve! Could you imagine life like that? For me, it’s pretty cool. You’re going to enjoy living till your last breathe. You’re going to die happy having no problems at all.
They killed me once. Now, I’m not going to allow anyone to kill me once again. I have my feet standing still on the ground and yet to know where path I’m going to go through. I love my family. I want them to be happy and I want them at my side, nothing more, and nothing less. I want to be the real me. How I wish I could stop pretending that I’m happy even though I’m not. People often see my carrying a smile without noticing what my eyes are really saying. I remember the saying that, “ Please listen to what I am not saying.” Yes, I want that to happen to me.
They killed my heart. I killed their trust for me. Now, I’m still lost.

-may

to be wiTh yOu oNce again

When you waved goodbye
I felt my world would fall apart
and after that lonely and dull moment
all i can do is wait... and wait...
goodbye... the word i hate so much to hear
letting you go is the thing i can't do
tears are falling from my eyes
oh i was really hurt deep inside
you promised me that you will stay
and that you will love me always
that you will never let go no matter what
and that you will save your heart just for me
and so i waited... and waited...
then my prayers were answered
i guess I'm not dreaming anymore
you are now in front of me
whispering words so sweetly

to be with you once again

is the moment I've been waiting for

and now that you're here with me

I'll never let you go anymore!

-kacie-

From A Corner of Baguio City

Whenever I go to this place, I have to ride a Trancoville-Plaza jeepney. It passes through Harrison Road and Magsaysay Avenue. I would then get off the jeepney when I reach the fly-over going to La Trinidad. After crossing the two two-way streets, I would reach Adarna St. of Dizon Subdivision. From there, I would take around 200 steps to get in front of a brown grilled gate with a number eight on its side. Behind this gate is a three-storey, two-unit apartment with an off-white-painted body and green roof. The first and second floors are parts of the first unit and the third floor is another separate unit which has a separate entrance located at the side. I need not knock on the door anymore. I just enter the unit and there, an unusual living room appears before me—an empty, unfurnished living room with just a two-pane window and a mirror hanging on the wall. There’s this brown wooden stair leading to the second floor. On top of the stairs is a wooden harang to keep people from accidentally falling down the stairs. Facing the stairs is a mini refrigerator. Beside the refrigerator on the right side is the sink where a few used plates are still unwashed. Beside the sink is a plate organizer with only a few plates, and just in front of the organizer is a two-burner stove positioned sideward. Above it are three kitchen cabinets with other kitchen utensils inside. Beside the stove are the door of the restroom and another door of one of the three rooms in the unit. Two young ladies occupy that room—Mara and Ate Pate. To my left, a living-dining room appears. There’s an old television, a square monobloc table covered with a red table cloth, a few monobloc chairs, and a window with a peach-colored curtain. There are two other bedrooms. The room just beside the stairs is the room of Kuya Joey and Kuya Angel and the room adjacent to it is the room of Don and his older brother, Kuya Gel. Actually, Mara, Ate Pate, and Kuya Joey, Don, and Kuya Gel are cousins and Kuya Angel is Kuya Gel’s very close friend. I first went to that unit on June 8, 2005, Wednesday, with Don, who was my boyfriend at the time. I can still remember how hard the rain was on that day. When we got into the house, he introduced me to Kuya Angel who was the only person there at that time. Don and I had tocino and canned tuna for dinner, and went to bed at pass nine in the evening to sleep. The next day, I woke up beside a tall, chinito, and young man—this young man that I loved truly for the first time. It has become a part of my everyday life to go there especially when I have a lot of vacant time. Whenever he would take me to their apartment, our tambayan would be in their room, and there we would spend the rest of the time watching the television or just chatting about what happened to us that day. I sometimes sleep and often spend my weekends there with him and his brother and their cousins. Because of that I became a part of their family already. Whenever we were together, I would cook for him, we would do our school work together, clean their room which was most of the time a bit messy, and do our favorite pastime—eating. At night, before we go to sleep, it was our “ritual” to look outside the window beside his bed. From there we could both see the lights of the houses and buildings in the city. The tall buildings of the University of Baguio and Saint Louis University were also visible from that point. It was the best view I have ever seen since I came to Baguio. It was a very beautiful view that Don and I shared together from that spot of their apartment. That house saw how my 16th birthday celebration on the 22nd of June 2005 was spent, how I took care of him when he got sick for almost a week, how we worked hard to finish his Chemistry project, how he gently caressed my hair before we slept, how he pinched my cheeks after having tasted the food that I have cooked for him, how he hugged me so tight every time that I arrived there, how he whispered “Goodnight wifey…I love you,” when I was about to sleep. I was so overwhelmed by these experiences that I didn’t think our relationship would have an end. We both felt so secure with each other that the thought of having problems didn’t ever occur to us. Since we became lovers on May 18, 2005, we only had small fights which were just normal in a relationship, konting tampuhan as they say. But then, not every love story goes smoothly forever I guess. Even before when we were still friends, I already knew that he would be going to Spain, where his parents were working, sometime in November 2005. His flight was scheduled on the 18th of November. We were together for the last time on November 4-5 at their apartment with Kuya Gel and his girlfriend, Ate Lhai. Sadness and fear filled the atmosphere of the house. On the night of November 4, Don and I were talking in their room about how it was going to be once he’s already in Spain. We were both crying at that time. He promised me a lot of times that he would be back by May 2006. I didn’t want that night to end because I knew that that would be the last time that I would be with him. I was staring at his face, memorizing every detail of it. Although his eyes were wet because of crying, it still looked a lot like the eyes of Rain, the Korean actor/singer. His nose also looked like the nose of Rain. His lips were pinkish, though a little darker than the usual pink that we know. We almost didn’t sleep that night. We just wanted to talk while we looked outside the window and stared at the usual view that we were always staring at. The next day at around four o’clock in the afternoon, both of us had to go to the lowlands already—Don to their house in San Manuel, Pangasinan and I to my uncle’s house in La Union. Before we went out the house, I went back to their room to take a last look. I couldn’t stop myself from crying the moment I had a last look at the window beside his bed. I wasn’t sure at that time if I would be able to see the beauty of Baguio at night through that window again. I then closed the door of the room and had a glimpse of the entire second floor of the apartment—the monobloc table where we used to eat our meals, the stove where I would always cook his favorite foods, the sink that was always untidy, and the refrigerator that I once cleaned up because it was becoming so dirty and stinky. That was the last time I laid my eyes on that house.Then Don flew to Spain on November 18. From that day, when he flew to Spain, I lost communication with him already. I didn’t know what happened to the promises he made and to the love that we shared together. Until now, I still can’t get over him. I still have no idea on how could I ever forget the times we spent together, most of them in their apartment. That house that I used to go to may seem to be just an ordinary house when seen from an elevated portion of New Lucban. Jeepneys and cabs may just be passing in front of it. Different kinds of people for sure are to occupy that house as long as it stands there. That house was witness to a love that was pure and true. It was where I once experienced how to be loved purely and faithfully. It was wherein once in my life, someone made me feel special and loved. That house became a witness to the ups and downs in our relationship. It was where we started dreaming and planning our future. It was where we had tons of laughter and tears together. Nowadays, whenever I go to the veranda of SM Baguio and see the big area of trees near Quirino Hill and Dreamland, I know, just below that area is that house—full of cherished memories and unforgettable scenes that have stayed in my mind and heart. Until now, I still can’t go back there because of what happened. Once in my life, going there was a part of my daily routine, but now, going there means recalling every single memory and event that Don and I both knew, which just makes me once again feel the pain that I felt on the day he flew to Spain. I still love him as much as I loved him before he left. I think I’ll always feel that way towards him. I’m still hoping that I could be with Don to continue the love that we once shared together the next time I visit that house on #8 Adarna St., Dizon Subdivision, Magsaysay Avenue, Baguio City.

-kacie-