fairytales

She was reared by her biological parents. She grew up like a robot. She was started reading at the age of four and to her mom's excitement sent her to school at five. She was smart. Very smart. Her mom wanted her so much to excel to the point of snatching her childhood away from her. While other kids were playing outside, she was to read and study and make sure she aced her exams. Life was a living hell. She was obliged to join singing, painting, declamation and other contests againts her will. Everytime she wins, her mom will be beaming with pride but if she loses, she would be blue all over. Her mom would beat her up like she wasn't even a daughter. She would cry to the top of her lungs but her mom wouldnt care to listen and continue beating her up. She never understood why her mom did this. Why second place was nothing at all. She grow up thinking that being number one is the only thing that can make her mom happy. Her only option was to be on top of the class by the end of the school year otherwise her mom will never be talking to her. She developed a chronic fear of failure when on a National Essay Writing Contest, she placed only second. She saw her mom walked out of the auditorium leaving her to her teacher's care. Her mom couldnt accept the fact that for three consecutive years, her daughter was number one in the whole Philippines for feature writing contest and the last year of her supposed reign, she only placed second. She cried the hardest that day and vowed never to join any contests, never again. Her heart was torn a million pieces when her parents chose not to attend her high school graduation because she failed to graduate Valedictorian. Being second will never be enough. She received her high school diploma without anyone to cheer for her. Not a single family member was in the audience, She lived one hell of a life. Full of anguish and sorrow. Pain and suffering. Her parents had other stations to look after and eventually decided to part ways. Her brother, whom she dearly loves on the other hand, was brought up by her father in anger and fear. She lived with her dad and bro for a time but after that, she couldn’t wait to scutter away from them. The inevitable parting didn’t leave her unscathed. The dad and the brother went to Canada but she chose to stay. The truth is, as a result she’d inflicted herself some damages, some easily rectified, the others, irreparable.

That girl was me.

But life did go on. Five years had passed since the day I walked out of my father’s house after telling him that I won’t ever be coming back (hay well, I came back). And 15 years after my mom left us leaving me at a loss.

My life, like what I’ve said before, is stereotyped. We all have our own stories and cross to bear after all. These lives only differ in terms of how they were lived, being lived, and is going to be live and how they handle their stumbling blocks or stepping stones, and most importantly, how they use their lot of life.

In my case, I was momentarily blinded. Living my life in terms of the past. It was like falling asleep for years and waking up wondering what had happened to my life. Oh, not fell asleep as in Sleeping Beauty waiting for her Prince to come and do his cue. But it was living a life uncaring and unthinking of tomorrow. I used to ask myself, “What’s the use of studying? What for? When no one seemed to care if I did!” What for indeed? It was stupid and I knew it but I chose to be blind anyway. I didn’t stop to ask myself why not. I guess I just enrolled in a school to absolve my guilty conscience. Then I would tell myself, ‘I wish I stayed 7 years old.’

Although in retrospect, if I remained as I were, I realized that I would never grow, I would never learn. It is unnerving, how people would step into our lives and change us forever. It could be a good change, or a bad one that it could leave you scarred for life. Changes that could obliterate your reasoning and your line of thinking. But then, what’s being rational got to do with feelings/emotions? I’ve certainly learned some hard lessons (and facts in life) the hard way and I’m not about to forget them. I was young, I still am, and I lacked the judgment of an adult. But then again, it was harder for youngsters to hold on to life when all their idealisms and hopes and dreams are being shattered right in front of their own unblinking eyes. When people around them were not what they seemed to be. It made them wonder if there are such things as love, fairness, justice, truths, rights, and sometimes, God. And then sometimes we thought everything’s all right already; we believe it so badly we could taste it, only to be faced with stark, lurid truths in life. Leaving us just the same. I had it all, idealism, enthusiasm, hopes, and dreams. Then, and now.

When I came to my senses, I only had myself to scold, and blame, yes, but also to understand. It was wrong of me to forget my plans and give up my dreams and hopes. What was it that a poet had said? “To be without dreams is to be without hope, to be without hope is to be without purpose.” I know now what I want: I want to be a part of a bigger world. A world other than mine.

Sometimes I have this gnawing feeling that my dreams are impossible and hopeless to carry out. But I try to set aside those feelings because I believe in chances, however slim those chances are. And I try to set aside fears and miseries. If we have fears, as in fear of making mistakes (and repeating them) and fear of taking risks, we will never learn how to be brave. They simply are not the stuffs wherein life are made of. I try to set aside these feelings because I believe that something wonderful could happen in this life too. But most importantly, I believe in my dreams because I believe that fairy tales do come true, fairy tales like Cinderella stories, and we all know that Cinderella stories always have happy endings...

Someday, I'll have my own hapy ending.. Someday...