Amir, I know how hard your father was on you when you were growing up. I saw how you suffered and yearned for his affections and my heart bled for you. But your father was a man torn between two halves.

So he took it out on you instead-, the socially legitimate half, the half that represented the riches he had inherited and the sin-with-impunity privileges that came with them.

When he saw you, he saw himself. And his guilt.

You are still angry and I realize it is far too early to expect you to accept this, but maybe someday you will see that when your father was hard on you, he was also being hard on himself. Your father, like you, was a tortured soul.

And this is what I want you to understand, that good, real good, was born out of your father’s remorse.

I know that in the end. God will forgive. He will forgive your father and you too. I hope you can do the same. Forgive your father if you can. But most importantly forgive yourself. 

-taken from the novel, The Kite Runner

Non-Conformance of My Fallen Angel

The problem is distance and time.

I don’t have to know your past. In fact, I do not want to know your past.

But, I want to know your present.

I just thought that we agreed to keep each other updated with whatever that’s been happening in each other’s life through constant get-togethers. I thought it was a good done deal. On the first couple of months, we were doing that and it was fun. In fact, I was happy to see and talk to you every time.

I still remember how you texted or was it Wanda that Friday night. I sensed how you wanted us to make “gala” given the fact that I was already someplace else with someone else that night and that I still have my Singles’ night right after that. I felt YOUR urgency. I think now that I was misled into thinking that night that you missed me or my presence in your life.

And so we celebrated Ynna and Collie’s birthdays. I can still remember it was you who informed me through a phone call of Ynna’s birthday. And on that night, there began your “privacy”. I suddenly had been so sensitive to your non-verbal gestures. You kept on looking at your watch and at your phone. And if I will be reading your thought bubbles that night, it’s as if the night with us had been that boring to you and that you would rather be with other people.

That night, I wondered how many times you did that to me on the duration of our over a year friendship while we were going out. It occurred to me NEVER and so that was the first time. But that did not just end to that night. It happened again and again. You made me feel as if I’m begging you for your time. Like I always say, “The greatest thing you can ever give to someone is not love, but your time.” And so, I’m begging for your time. Me?! Begging you for your time?!

 Until I became tired of the sudden change in the routine. In your routine. When we used to talk until 11pm or so and that we didn’t care if it’s Tuesday.

And so I came to have these hauntings.

I would compare you to Jef and that Jef is better than you in the sense that he is consistent in his attitude. He was not expressive then, and until now he is still not expressive, unlike you who used to be expressive then, but now, so elusive, so private.

I would compare you to Jane because you are just like her toward her High School barkada. And that Jane and I were never that close friends in the first place because I was never part of that High School barkada and that Jane and I were just merely colleagues. So, I've been thinking, since I no longer work at SMA, and we are no longer colleagues, so what are we now? Aren't we friends? I remember you said how you desperately wanted to be with them and that they’re mad at you because you are not able to go with them. Well, as for me, I don’t know them, what I only know is the concept of a friend. And that if you are really friends, they will not get mad, instead, they will understand.

I would look at us, three, you, Yssa and I that somewhere along the way, I was being left behind.

I would look at us, three, you, Joan and I which made me rethink that maybe you really wanted her to be over and done with him so you can have her. And just because things did not turn out to your advantage toward Joan, I will also disappear in the picture.

You made me felt like a querida, begging for your time. You made me felt like a whore, being used. That I was just a convenient means to your ends when all I was to you and am still, regardless of this chaos, a sincere friend. 

I guess, I just came into a realization that I do not deserve your kind of treatment. All I was hoping was that I could keep you as my lifetime friend because you were a good friend back then and that we had that connection when you helped me move forward. 

I'm a good student, you know. And I can say, that after these realizations, you are a good mentor. You taught me how to let go- big time. Unfortunately, the thing that you taught me also became the armor I used to cut the ties that bonds us. 

I am sad, very sad to the point of regret, actually. But I guess, this is the consequence of learning what you taught me.  

Hindi ako ang nagbago. Weird pa rin ako until now. At hindi ako ang unang bumitaw sa bond. Hindi ako nagbibilang kung sino ang mas may nagawa at kung anuman ang mga nagawa, hindi rin ako nangsusumbat, pero I guess, I'm still a teacher, after all, I understand through explanations. Until then, I guess I'll be over. 

Fruit of my Labor

August 1, 2013

I expected for the usual salary that cut-off. But, lo and behold, the HR already adjusted my rate according to my MA units earned, and so there was the increase in my salary. I know it was not enough, but I gave them something to suffice, somehow. I gave them their part. And yet, it was never enough for them. Never. They asked for another and another and another until the tenth time and it was excruciating to hear and see texts from them second after second reminding me of my “obligation”, as if I have not given them enough. For me, the increase in my salary was a grace from God because I asked Him for it. I had too much payable myself and I know that the unadjusted salary will not be enough to pay for everything. And so the sudden increase was an answered prayer which I did the night before the cut-off.

I wanted to teach my class as enthusiastic as I can but how could I do that if I kept on thinking of their texts and how to get the extra money that they “need’.

I felt so sick and tired of the whole scenario in rerun in my mind and in my soul. All philosophies break lose. I took them for granted. Bad, wrong, and immoral and selfish as it may sound but I ignored their plea. There was really nothing I can give anymore. And even if there was really still some to spare, I was traumatized already to have the energy to give it to them. To those who said not to bite the hand that feeds you is utterly correct. I felt I couldn’t stand anymore the unjust treatment.

And what do I get in return?! Huh?! What do I get in return?! Nothing! Do I get a thank you? No! Do I get a hot soup every time I felt cold because of menstrual cramps? No!

And what do you get from me?! You get a fruit of my labor and ask for its roots.     

Do I complain? Huh?! Do I complain?

Don’t wait for me to complain. If that time comes… you will never see me again.