You talk a lot
Senseless
But I learned something
Not from what you said
But from what you did not
You cover yourself with no sense
But, some day…
Someday when I’m already yet
I’ll gonna peel that layer of nonsense
It’ll be painful
But the ghosts, they’ll be gone
Gone for good
And someday, when you remember
You’ll just laugh at them
Laugh like what they did to you
And laugh because they can’t do it anymore
Never again, ever.

Who, where and what will I be after ten years? Well, I could see myself in two different conditions. And what will I be after ten years depends on either of these two things: pessimism and optimism.

Okay, let’s get on the bad side first. I’m not anticipating the negative things, but sometimes, I just couldn’t help to be pessimistic. It saves me from disappointments. Like, if you expected you will never make it—and you didn’t really make it, it saves you from being disappointed. It was like expecting the worst. I don’t want to detail the bad things that crossed my mind lots of times. Let’s just put it this way. Maybe after ten years, my ashes were probably thrown and scattered around the pacific, on the Bermuda Triangle or somewhere because I killed myself by either sleeping inside a parked car in a mall’s basement or drowning in the bath tub, ha ha.

Let’s get on the best part—the positive. I would be twenty-eight turning twenty-nine ten years from now. At that time, I already passed the licensure exam. Probably I’m already done with the masters and doctoral degree in clinical psychology; and I took some art classes. I would be a clinical psychologist and an art therapist at the same time. I will be treating and inducing people with Dissociative Identity Disorder. I would be part of the team who will create the DSM VI. I will develop a projective test that will require the subject to make a story out of my childhood pictures optical illusions I made myself. Like, if the patients suffer from depression, they will see a red dragon and; if they are manic, they will see a blue butterfly on that same picture. I would go to Japan and do a research on their culture and why do Japanese dudes commit suicide on a regular basis. I would conduct a research on one of the fields of psychology which I was first fascinated, Parapsychology. I would be traveling around Europe to check out their art, music, and wonderful statues and structures. Probably I’m also on concert tour with a band as a guitarist. I will be writing stories and novels that will be bestsellers and the books will be shipped around the world, changing people’s lives and perspectives on things. My books will be turned into films—which will be directed by either me or Mel Gibson, ha ha. I will be planting trees in exchange for the papers that will be used in publishing my stories.

I’m confused. Lots of things would come into my mind and won’t just leave. Sometimes they would invade in my sleep. The other night, I was expected to polish our script for the class play and I fell asleep instead. In my dream, several times I stood up in bed and did write some parts of the script. When I woke up, there’s nothing I get done! Tired? Yes.

I feel unstable. Like I would feel high one morning, looking at the rising sun, feeling how silly I was for being hopeless last night or a few days ago. Then, there’ll be a sudden moment I’d really feel down. Like I’m nothing, wanting to disappear, thinking how pathetic I am and my condition is, and all the negative things would come swallow me.

When at home, I’ll just lie in bed for few minutes then it’ll turn to hours. When I woke up, I wouldn’t get up, I’ll just lie down there contemplating about my problems and how I wanted to leave myself (don’t take it literally).

Organization. That’s one of my major problems. School year is gonna end in two months and we’re already preparing for the election of the new officers. I have been an officer of that org for two consecutive years (I was the second year representative last year and VP for Documentations this year), and I don’t want be part of it for another school year. I’ve sacrificed a lot—time, money (have to print countless documents), sleep, even my academics is suffering. The problem is, our department head wants me to be the next president! How could one say ‘no’ to somebody in authority? So I’m praying real hard that I won’t win in case I got nominated in that position.

Academics. I know I’m not doing well in any subject. I don’t know why it’s hard for me to concentrate in things which must be prioritized. I sometimes will not go to school and patch it up with excuses like I had fever.

There is another problem I don’t want to talk about until it is done.

1-10-10

okay, the title sounds quite emotional. ayoko ng ganto eh, natripan lang magblog. if you’re thinking this blog would make sense atleast, well stop reading now because it won’t contain anything useful for you!

nakakaasar lang kasi, dahil na rin sa pagod. i feel like crying, napipikon kasi ako sa mga nangyayari. it really feels like the world has grown upside down. kanina lang eh nagpractice kami ng play at yung ibang classmates intentionally di umattend. nakakaasar di ba? and to think na hello? NEXT WEEK FRIDAY NA TO! gumagana pa ba mga utak nio? sorry ha, i bet you won’t read this naman. naasar lang talaga ko, and i don’t care if you would read this.

after play practice, we went to sm manila naman para magpractice ng song na tutugtugin namin sa gig. we have to wait til 6:30 pa bgo magstart. seven natapos. nakakainis kasi kanina parang super joyous ko kasi first time ko makajam whole band. nakakainis kaya minsan i regret to get happy just for a short while, kasi maya maya lng eto n naman, down. pagdating ko hauz, only to find out na there’s a big possibility na di kami makapagplay dun sa gig.

I’m so upset, nakakaasar talaga. pasensya na kung paulit ulit. can someone please save my sanity? i don’t have anyone to talk to, ever since. sometimes i like it that way, but sometimes i wish i could always have someone to talk to, kahit stuffed toy lang. pero i don’t talk. It’s hard to let things out, kahit sa stuffed toy, kahit walang makakarinig. and i’m used with it.

i don’t want to blame people, that’s why i’m upset. nakakainis, ayoko na. ngayon naman pnpolish ko yung script na ginawa ng classmate ko kasi labo labo. wala talagang pahinga? 2:15am na, alas syete pasok ko bukas–> comparative anatomy, may quiz pa. leche, ayoko na talaga. nakakairita, baka dahil na rin to sa ininom kong kape. ayoko ng kape pero uminom ako para nde makatulog. kasi nga kelangan na yung scipt! kasi nga next friday na yung play! kasi nga!!!! madaming kasi!!!!!!!!!!!!! >_<

1-1-10

So yeah, maybe I’m a bit too late to greet everyone a Happy New Year. It’s better late than never and you could greet anyone a happy day any day anyway (I didn’t intend to rhyme it, honestly), so why would you bother to greet them a happy new year? Okay, it’s my anti-norms attitude sprouting out again.

This previous year lots of terrible things happened and I bet our lives won’t be the same. I’m not speaking in general, maybe there were still people that were not really affected by those sort of tragedies, numb peoples, catatonic schizophrenics, haha! However, what I’m saying is, this year really changed our family’s way of living. My grandma was stroked and there are lots of arguments revolving between my parents and my father’s brother’s family (yes, I hope you get that, haha!).

Some things I learned this year:

What’s abnormal and what’s not.

I’ve understood that I’m unusual (statistical rarity) and I’m not like everyone else. I knew that long time ago but it was only this year that I’ve given lots of contemplation about it.

The world seems to get a lot scarier each day you wake up. It has something to do with my anxieties of growing up.

That killing animals is neither right nor wrong in some circumstances, after our class dissected more than a dozen of frogs in general zoology. This year, next would be the cats for comparative anatomy. It’s not that my moral standards that had gotten low, or maybe it had. But anyway, that’s my point of view now.

“Why can’t I be like everyone else?” that’s not the question anymore, but “Why do I have to be like everyone else?”

That what I experienced three years ago was a real depression (after we have discussed the real symptoms of depression) and not just the effect of media hyped term “emo”.

Some people tend to be narcissistic in nature and you can’t blame them. Maybe they just want to protect their self-esteem.

It’s okay to bother people. It’s always a choice. If people don’t want to be bothered, they can complain. But as much as possible, don’t bother people with senseless things.

Define senseless. To be honest, it depends on your own judgment. One thing could mean a lot to a person but that thing could mean nothing to another. See?

It’s okay to be alone.

“What else is there to know when your bible’s here?” A line from Meg & Dia’s Black Wedding song. Myself isn’t really convinced with the bible, honestly. My grandma inflicted religious belief on us when we were little. We do rosary, and another rosary with 12 beads and 12 mysteries, another rosary with eight beads and eight mysteries. But, my faith, I could say, is drifting.

All these things I’m saying don’t mean I have fully understood the world. Not even close to that. described me in facebook as someone who have the ability to see both sides of a coin. That’s one big compliment but I disagree. I’m just trying to explain things with my own sensation and perception of the world. Maybe you wouldn’t agree, but that’s how it looks like if you could see the world through my eyes.

And one of the most disappointing things I’ve ever learned in my life was that Blue Moon isn’t really blue, haha!

While I’m signing, he said, “Pressured.” He said that some people have expectations on me that I’m afraid that I might fail. My classmate said, “Sir, president kasi yan ng LPS eh.” That is quite correct. He also said na ‘pang matalino’ daw yung signature and he said, “Ganyan din pirma ko dati.” Hahaha. “Pag to na-inlove… May boyfriend ka ba?” My classmate said I have none. “Pag ‘to nagkaboyfriend, parang wala lang. Bato lang eh.” Maybe he was talking about being not intimate or not loving at all, that made my day! During the trip home, Wrong Turn was playing on the TV, they were telling that it’s a horror film—which I do not fancy at all among the other film genres. I was readying myself to sleep when my professor told me, “Dapat nanunuod ka ng mga ganyan, mga horror. Para magrelease ng dopamine.” Dopamine is the chemical substance in the brain which is responsible of falling in love.

I together with other 9 students were tasked to bring the patients to the room where we will hold the socialization. Then I saw a familiar patient I knew last month. I said, “Kuya, diba ikaw yung sumayaw?” then he just gave an awkward smile. He’s a small, slightly chubby, brown man with a funny face. We also saw the patient who performed his own composition with a guitar on the seminar and we waved on him, saying we knew him. I hope they would feel that we appreciate their talents.

Anyway, the mental institution is called Cavite Center for Mental Health. Most of their patients are schizophrenics. It was mentioned during the seminar last month that some of the patients were ‘taong grasa’ that were picked on roads of Cavite and other provinces of Region IV. Some were abusing drugs which cause their hallucinations and delusions. It was also said that some of them came from the Drug Rehabilitation Center in Tagaytay because the said institution couldn’t handle their cases anymore.

After the socialization, we were tasked again to bring the patients to their cottages. I asked my partner patient, “Kuya, ano na gagawin niyo pagkatapos nito?”. He said, “Magpapahinga, para gumaling. Nagdrugs kasi ako kaya ako nandito.” He was only there for about a month.

Were the streetlights all out that you did not find the way home?
But we share the same sky and do you see the star I wished upon?

This place is not a home but four corners of blood and stone.
Staring at the ceiling, found myself thinking of something.

I wont quit, I’ll just wait here and sit.
Till you and I finally meet.

Were the streetlights all out that you did not find the way home?
But we share the same sky and do you see the star I wished upon?

This place is not a home but four corners of blood and stone.
Staring at the ceiling, found myself thinking of something.

Please tell me now, i can’t stay like this and regret later.

Were the streetlights all out that you did not find the way home?
But we share the same sky and do you see the star I wished upon?

This place is not a home but four corners of blood and stone.
Staring at the ceiling, found myself thinking of something.

If I knew I wont see you again, maybe I kissed you goodbye.
-end-

http://www.myspace.com/sweetlemonmechanism

This song I wrote on which our vocalist had put on the  tune is dedicated to her father. Her father went away when she was only two and hadn’t seen her since then. But they never lost communication through phone calls. She also has some problems at home with her siblings. ‘Something’ meant suicide–hanging on the ceiling. She mentioned before that one of her siblings tried to commit suicide by slashing his wrist.

During the discussion, this particular person entered my mind. She became our professor twice in Filipino subjects and she always wears terno clothes (including the shoes), dangling earrings, etc. which could be considered as weird for someone of her age. Some of my classmates also thought about her and we were mumbling her name at each other.

Then suddenly my professor said, “May prof nga na ganyan dito eh.” “Pag nakikita ko nga ‘yun eh pakiramdam ko magpapasko na.” “Nakita ko nga pati casing ng cellphone nun eh violet.” It’s the least you would expect to someone who’s very strict to say, so it turned out to be very amusing and funny at the same time.

One of my classmates asked, could be a person who’s into cosplaying could be considered as someone who has Schizotypal PD. My professor answered, “Kabataan ‘yun, eh matanda na ‘tong pinaguusapan natin.” Hahahaha! Confirmed. We’re all thinking of the same person.

When all usefulness is over, when one is assured of unavoidable and imminent death, it is the simplest of human rights to choose a quick and easy death in place of a slow and horrible one. I have preferred chloroform to cancer.

The Yellow Wallpaper is a literary piece about the struggle of a person suffering from postpardum depression. The protagonist’s doctor suggested the ‘rest cure’, a therapy wherein a person is asked to do nothing but to rest. In her case, the therapy wasn’t beneficial at all–in fact, it worsen her illness. My professor said that our brains need stimulation. The protagonist found stimulation on the patterns of the ‘yellow wallpaper’. The patterns on the wallpaper were moving, then she saw eyes on it looking at her, and the worst part was when she saw a creeping woman and eventually women on it–a sign that her condition was worsening.

I can tell I am affected,  because I’ve read the Yellow Wallpaper. We’ve discussed this short story in class.

Yes, you saved me. It was night and the skies were clear. You were standing at the opposite road. You smiled and waved. Well, that saved me.

I didn’t know what a smile means. I didn’t know how to smile either. That’s because nobody ever smiled at me and nobody bothered to explain it to me. But, I know it must mean something pleasant. I read books and I’ve read about smiling, having friends, and falling in love. So it must mean something beautiful.

I told you I don’t have any friends but the books and my doll, Christene. You asked how I made friends with those things because they don’t have lives. At that moment, I wanted to tell you to not take things literally. I used to confine myself inside the closet—to hide myself and make the people believe I’ve already gone to school. Inside the closet, I read books. That’s from where I read about your disease.

The firs time I saw you was in the school clinic. I faked a fever and you were there lying on the bed next to mine. We were separated by a thin plain curtain. As you sat up and collected them on one side, you told me you were from the moon. I turned my back and ignored you.

I asked you why you would be hospitalized for simple injuries. You just smiled and said you were different; you’re not a human being. And that’s how it is for beings that came from the moon. Because of that, I read tons of books about astronomy—and I read it’s impossible for people to live in the moon. I believed you were from the moon and the books must be lying. You were different. That must be the reason why I made friends with you.

I was also different. My parents brought me to a doctor who made me draw things and shapes and asked me to complete sentences. They said the doctor can turn and make me like those young people the same age as mine. Why can’t I be like everyone else? Maybe I’m from the moon too, like you.

But, why do we have to be like everyone else?

You were different because you’re from the moon.

I’m different because I used to shut myself inside the closet.

But—we’re not really different from them, you see?

You had this disease wherein even simple physical harm and bleeding can cause your death. So you were not allowed to play outside, just to protect you life. You were not from the moon at all.

The day I saw you across the street, I was waiting for the traffic lights to turn green. I was planning to end my life by jumping off into the speeding cars. But you were there, standing across the street with a smile on your face.

Anyway, I googled suicide notes and found out that most of the popular people who committed suicide were poets / writers, some are actors. I’ve read months ago that there is a relationship between creativity and proneness to disorders. Well, we could say it isn’t normal for people to commit suicide. And we could also say that people who commited suicide were probably depressed. But not in all cases, there are 4 types of suicide–which I wouldn’t be explaining at this moment.

I’m having this strange feeling of caught in between living and dying. Let’s put it this way, I don’t want to live but I don’t want to kill myself either. Maybe it’s a matter of motivation? Or perception of what is right or wrong? If I only knew the concrete answer, well I don’t have to post an entry like this one.