Dear barkada,

Like a flower I rose from bed; I fell into sleep for an hour a shallow one, just
enough to be considered as dreamy runaway from fading into darkness. It was 4:30
pm. I felt so light. Calmness then spread into my veins despite the vague but
banging urgency already present in my bloodstream for quite a long time.
We appreciate atoms more by knowing its components, including the electrons. In
order to understand my current composition and further tendencies, you have to
get acquainted with the things I carry that I consider as beyond me but is in me. I
know nows the time for you guys to know things about my past.
Im trying. Im letting the sound of red raindrops falling on my brains ceiling bug me
as I question myself as to why I still listen to my mind even if its so cluttered. I still
decided to take the first necessary step: to write this even if it means letting the
sound of the raging storm that once devastated and now traumatizing me every
time it makes itself striking enough to be remembered blend with the sound of the
fast trickling hot tears.
Rizal Boulevard. Bench. Wind. People.
The blowing wind, the falling tears and the deafening typing sounds I produce with
my cell phone keys.
Taking a shot of this day of freedom and lose chains.
No matter what, because I refuse to be a static wave.
--Mom gave me a 30-minute lecture about my incoming 18 th birthday.
First, she told me bluntly that I wont be having a party. I saw this coming because
its not practical to have one. If Ill have a party, of course my family wants to be
present, but that would mean around six to twelve thousand per person (even if
they avail promo flights) and I have two siblings. I decided not to multiply twelve
thousand and four to not have heart attack.
Both Mom and Dad have been expressing the impossibility of throwing a party in
Dumaguete for the whole summer. Its really fine if I wont have one, really. I know I
want things not as grand as parties.
Then she told me not to expect anything for my 18 th birthday because well, Dad.
Were still dealing with him and all the accumulating family problems far from
anything financial. We all brand him as our family provider. You guys got that right;
he wants us to see him just as our ATM machine. I know I want things not as a thick
stash of cash.

Were not in good terms for two weeks, I remember, during summer. I got
exasperated and tired of how hes treating us. He disowned me, and he meant this.
I can try to deny it by telling myself that hes still sending me to college and all, but
its ironic enough for me to take when he said I wont have a good future and he
wishes that for me.
Its getting harder, especially when you see him committing adultery in almost all
his ways. I can swallow the fact that hes being unfair to me, but to Mom?
Unacceptable. I cant take it.
Mom constantly reminds us to remain courageous and thats a trait I got from her.
She wants our family to be complete and for us not to experience how painful it is to
have a broken family so she stayed. She sacrificed her happiness for us. And of
course, knowing Mom, she loved my Dad. Even the imperfections she embraced.
She loved him so.
--I did not make any before-I-turn-eighteen-to-do list or do crazy stuff for my comfort.
These days, Im breathing and walking more. And sleeping, too. I dont know if Im
okay. I should know, right? Danger kind of lurks on uncertain emotions about
matters like this. I cant be spontaneous on this one.
--This is such a throwback.
I left a lot of places before. I left Marikina, Bulacan and now, General Santos City. We
have a house in Marikina and even when we moved to Bulacan, my dad still worked
as an industrial engineer in the same company. Later did I know that he had an
affair with one of our maids in Marikina, whos now in jail for possessing illegal
drugs.
I thought Ill stay in Bulacan for good, but no. I thought the only pressure I have to
go through is being an accelerated student; I skipped Kinder Two after taking a
special test in Montessori de Sto. Nino Meycauayan Bulacan. They said I dont need
to be in Kinder Two. But they didnt know I needed it in order not to feel out of place
with my regular classmates.
Before I turn Grade Four, Lucio Tan promoted my Dad to one of the highest position
on one of his companies, but that would mean moving to General Santos City.
Again.
My last night in front of our house in Bulacan was a memorable one. There are more
countless stars than the other nights I encountered. I laid in the long sofa I loved
dearly and felt cold because sofas are normally found on the living room and I found
myself on a big truck people hire when they want things moved.

Dad sold our house in Marikina later on, according to Mom to a very beautiful, tall
girl.
--I was bullied for 7-8 years in General Santos Hope Christian School, the best and
most expensive school in the city. Its a Chinese school where we are taught the
Asian way and everythings advanced. All of those years spent in school before I
went here, was an earthly hell.
Everyone says our batchs one of the worst. We have some smart ones but as a
whole, they said were not as academically competent as the other batches. We
disrespect a lot of teachers. Walkout scenes arent new to us. Our Physics and
Chemistry teacher even got hospitalized due to high blood. Lost and black sheep,
they described.
But the faculty and staff never knew that everyone in my batch bullied me.
I entered our Grade Four classroom in the high hopes of successful adjustment. I
was innocent back then. I was someone who didnt know how to say bad words
(thats strange for a Manila girl).
I wanted my classmates to know that I want to find myself in the new place. I
wanted them to understand Im still settling. I wanted them to accept me. I wanted
them to befriend me. These are normal wishes of a transferee.
Time began freezing slowly because I want my elementary and highschool years to
end.
I did found myself... I found myself breaking the small rectangular glass attached to
our classroom door on the third month of my first school year in Hope because my
classmates wont let me in; that was the time I realized what Im capable of with my
physical strength. I found myself chasing Darrell around our school gym after hiding
my backpack and school shoes and showed him my first ever middle finger sign
because I just cant take it anymore. I found myself visiting the guidance counselor
office often and become close to Maam Ester.
Darrell recently died due to nose cancer and Im still mourning. Maam Ester and I
are as close as Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz and Charlie and Bill.
By the way, dont ask what my brother, who saw glimpses of whats going on in
school (Im aware of this because he attacks me by screaming Even they hate you!
You dont have any friends! whenever we fight and that sucks too), was able to do
during those years I tried my best to hide things from him. Val, you remind me of
my Ahia Tim. He was the all-around student. He was our schools Superman. He has
a lot of extra-curricular activities and hes an honor student at the same time. He

was our SG president and editor-in-chief before. Hes also good in dancing, just like
you.
Beyond having my bleeding fist and heart, I also had a lot of suicide and goodbye
letters and mini notes I wrote on my diary. My Dad came in my room one night and
saw me crying while writing in my diary. He immediately confiscated my diary and
forced me to give him the key.
I was writing another suicide letter for my classmates to read. It was actually
supposed to be the last letter Ill be writing. My plan back then was to leave my
diary with the key inside Darrells bag early morning and ditch school to kill myself.
Darrell, I want you to keep this notebook I just want you to know that I forgive
you.
Thats the last sentence of the suicide letter.
My Dad called Mom and they both read my diary. They discovered that Im in pain.
Mom went to school the next day and scolded all of my batch mates. I cried oceans
and my throat was dry that day. They sang different tunes of apologies in front of
my Mom and adviser, and the next day everythings still the same. I felt so alone on
group activities. No one would choose me as their partner during paired work.
Things got worse when guys started to have a crush on me, even one of the most
popular guys on our batch and in the whole school. All of them expressed their
feelings to me through chocolates, roses and sweet words, but I was known to be a
glitch so they decided to hide than seek.
I also never thought Id have my first encounter with the word hog. I never knew
theyll refer me as someone who can be roasted and inhumanely killed through
electrocution or being immersed on acid or hot water just like that documentary
about pigs Maam Capulong showed us one Religion 11 morning class.
I dont know what level of pain you guys feel whenever you watch movies that
tackles bullying, but this is a cancer that sticks forever. I believe no one can find its
cure. Only mitigation.
--How I became a good friend all of you have been describing me all along surprises
me.
Im just someone who just woke up from a nightmare. And whats more tragic is the
fact that Im actually awake all along. If everyone thinks Im the sensitive one, its
true. I dont know friendship. I feel like I dont deserve you guys, but thank you for
sticking with me. What I just wanted is to do a good job being your friend. Thats all.
I have you guys. I dont have to do anything grand having you guys is the best
thing that has ever happened to me. Im still convincing myself that Im now on the

safe side. Thats why I still cant look straight to people, especially to you guys I
guess. Im scared. Im so scared
Im a pot who just wants to be normal yet the Potter has greater plans. Im meant to
be carved. That takes pain that I know I can handle. My soul sways along with His
perfect will and I trust Him. After all, its His overflowing grace that keeps me alive,
going, and sane.
I think God had let me endure all those years to prepare me for each one in our
barkada, the best set of friends I have. You guys are more than just a primary group
to me. We didnt just become a barkada because of same schedule. We stick
together and we cannot fully fathom how we connect.
I want all of you to know that youre all amazing. In the quiet and my silence most
of the time, I will always assure: I love you all.
To the point that when the atmosphere of secrecy in the darkness of my insides
makes me throw the am-I-doing-a-good-job-being-your-friend question to the air.
Am I doing a good job? Im not saying this because Im trying too hard for people. I
dont want to explain how I want everything I do to be out of love or how pure my
intentions are because I know better than that and I know no one will fully
understand everything Im writing right now. I dont even know why Im opening up
now. I. Dont. Know. I dont know. At least Ill be able to let each one to see real
things. The real side. The real me.
Im sorry. (Why am I saying sorry? Sorry. Im sorry so sorry)
I want you guys to remember true love each time I come across your minds. Im
sorry for the inconsistencies, because I know there are a lot.
I keep on finding ways. My thoughts are so scattered right now. Queenie Alana
Hannah Val Charlemagne Prince Mike Luke I love you guys. Thank you
for sharing your lives with me.
Clich as it sounds, it seems like it rains the hardest to people who dont deserve
Nah. Who cares. I have people who love umbrellas. I have you guys. In fact, well
sing, dance and get wet under those gray clouds but were together. Were
conquering things together. Were growing together. Were embracing life together.
Were together and thats whats important.
--Almost all of my June 30-s before was visited by heavy rains. I spent them just with
my family and no one asked why I didnt invite anyone. Everything conspired to
make me hate birthdays, to be very honest. I dont know

Mitigation, not eradication. Yes. I wont let gravitys pulls win by turning my smile
into a frown.
I really have to smile, especially because Im a wallflower not as physically cute as
Logan Lerman.
Its just that smiling has been harder lately.
And yeah, Marvin. I dont know if he still likes me that much as before but I guess
Im worth leaving behind for. Hes amazing and I dont know anymore. Im
willing to wait for him. I feel safe around him. Hes different. But its one-sided. He
doesnt feel the same, and somehow its sad. Sometimes I need his hug, or more
than that, but no. Just no. And its making me sad too. And broken. But life it goes
on. And again, thats sad. For me.
I want to let him know a lot of things to how he means so much to me and
distance is nothing as long as he assures me things. How much I waited for him
how much I I dont know anymore. Sometimes I just dont want to have a heart
anymore.
I promise Ill be happy on my birthday, dont worry. Im okay. Im writing this as a
survivor. I cant even remember almost anything anymore. Faded tattered jeans. Im
left with closing times, once wounds now scars. Its just that its reopenings my
choice. With all smiles, sniffs and kinds of liquid.