Once more it’s a Dead-End

I feel like my life’s going downhill at every turn; and I just wish I could make everything alright again. I’d never admit this out loud but I am lonely– not in the sense that I am looking for any romantic relationship like every hopeless damsel in distress but just lonely that I’ve cut off my relationships with people and ended up with somebody ugly. I can’t find meaning, my innings are empty. I’ve been misplaced.

Nothing in my life’s particularly beautiful anymore, including myself, and every single day I am facing the darkness, waiting for the grace to be free of this; to be free of me and all I’ll never be.

I’ll never be is what haunts me. A lifetime is awfully long when the word never is at its head.


I am thinking about death. And all the little things you would’ve done different if you knew. I am thinking about how unpredictable it is; like death could come knocking at your door any second and you wouldn’t know. You’d skip out on saying goodbye to your mother because you’re late for school, ignore your little sister when she asks to play with you because you’d rather watch television or read or do something else than little kid stuff, tell your brother to go away when he barges through the door because you’d rather be alone. I’m thinking of all the moments I would’ve changed if I knew I’d die tomorrow. I would reach out to my dad for one, and ask him to come home, just so we can have a family dinner once more. I would call all my best friends and all the ones I wished were my friends, tell them how much I admired them and inspired them, all the things I was too afraid to speak out, let them know that without them I wouldn’t know who I’d be. I would lay under the nightsky on spiky itchy field grass and look up at the stars, watching them twinkle, letting my thoughts and emotions rise like the world has stopped moving, like I didn’t have better things to do like homeworks and projects, and feel so small. I would reach out more, to a particular boy, tell him I like him and kiss him under the rain, wanting my chance at love. I wonder about death; the unfathomable kind. The one that enters and takes away, leaving nothing but gripping coldness and ache at the now empty space left. The universe gives and takes and I am afraid I won’t be able to do the things I’ve always dreamed my life I’d be doing: doing the things I love every single day, never held down by insubstantial matters. I don’t want to worry about accounting or theology, about school papers or losing weight or the fact that I don’t know where my future is headed. I wonder about death, and it taking away those who barely had a chance to live, or have lived but not in full. I wonder how it chooses, in random or in kind, a fate that comes to play as punishment or maybe gratification, an end to the suffering at its tail. I wonder about all the people I’ll forget to say I love you to, all the people I’d never tell goodbye, all the secrets that would be buried with me when it’s my time to croak, and all the life that slipped away under my fluttering fingers, a one-winged butterfly crashing, crashing down to the blackout. I think about death– the sad kind of not being able to live enough, and I wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to be taken away first before anybody else gets taken away before me. After all, the only thing that’s worse than leaving is being left behind to face the wake.

I am beautiful too!

 “See I just want you to know that you deserve the best

You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful
Yeah and I want you to know                                               You’re far from the usual, far from the usual”

– Lil Wayne, “How to Love”

I’m going to be painfully honest here, not to anybody out there who stumbles across this blog and reads this particular post but to myself. I can’t deny this anymore: I do not feel beautiful. I think it’s particularly hard being a woman because there are the pressures of society that every woman tries to fit in– the idea that women should be beautiful, and graceful, sexy, and alluring that guys have to fall over their feet when she passes by. She’s supposed to exceed a kind of elegance that’s mesmerizing and attractive to the masculine character, and at the same time she has to be strong and confident. There is no helplessness now; no longer damsels in distress on our age and time. But here I am left with the things I have been given: a body that’s bulging out in all sorts of places, fingers too short and stubby for my liking, chicken legs like sausages and bucked knees I can stand on the account that I wear jeans anyway to cover them up, small chubby feet with a massive bunyon to go, and a double chin that’s started to form since I’ve gained weight. I have messy hair on most days, pimples that ascend from stress and spurs of hormones, and a kind of slow awkwardness when I move; far from the kind of motion men seem to be drawn towards. Don’t get me wrong: I used to feel pretty. When I was younger, I had people tell me “you’re so pretty,” and I had a swimming teacher say “you should join the Ms. Philippines contest,” and then there were the occasional foolish boys who had crushes on me, the boy in the park who asked if I was a model, and the European men who hit on me like I was the last woman on Earth. I still feel pretty some days, when I dress up in something loose enough to hide the things I don’t want particularly revealed, but as a woman I want to say that there will be times when I want to wear a dress or a skirt or shorts, wear sleeveless tops and look good in them, and wear slippers that accentuate my bare feet. Here’s something I wish to point out that most men do not seem to understand: women will always want to feel beautiful. It’s the epitome of being a woman: beauty. There are so many beautiful and slim women out there and there will always be days and moments when I feel embarrassed for myself– because I’m not like them, and I can never be. I will never have pretty legs for one thing; it was something I was born with and can never replace. My fingers won’t magically grown unstubby and unshort because these are my dad’s, unless I have them surgically prolonged which I would never result to. To consider surgery just to feel beautiful is wrong in so many ways and I do not wish to go down that road. I want to work on myself and feel beautiful on my own.

I have always wondered why I have never got a guy to be particularly attracted in me, enough that he’d think it’d be worth it if he got to know me and asked me out. I still wonder if I will ever get a guy to want me for me– flaws and all. I have always thought that beauty was a light within you; like a trait that shines through your personality that draws attention. It’s nothing really external; it’s more of in the way you move– a kind of mystery to uncover in a person’s actions and behavior. But again here I am: awkward and stumbling and ungraceful. And I have to remind myself: nobody’s going to love me if I’m not going to love me. I have to learn to love myself, first and foremost, with everything I am and everything I can still be. I think the most heartbreaking thing I am doing to myself is that I won’t even give myself a chance. Here I am a little bit over the weight I should be and I’m still eating and eating without a little effort on exercise or reducing my take in. I am not taking care of myself and being good to myself like I should be. The sad thing is that even I won’t want me enough to work on me and I have to firmly tell myself that this has to stop. I will have to do a little more work than others on being beautiful but I think that’s something beautiful in itself: effort. Like how you can only appreciate it more when you’ve been through the exact opposite of what you’ve achieved. It makes you grow and it makes you better and that’s the thing I am always looking forward to every day; the reason why I haven’t given up hope. I am still in change. I have modifications to go through but I am not yet done; I have ultimately many more things to adjust and revise on myself. I am going to love myself so much that I am going to give myself second chances, every single day I fail or feel like giving up, I am going to stand my ground and tell myself to try again because I AM WORTH IT. I am a beautiful human being in the making and I hope that one day, somebody else will fall head over heels with me and realize it too. I will aspire to inspire and admire: “I can’t be as beautiful as you. But I can be as beautiful as me.” 

Here is my yes to change and to effort and to struggle because like a mother experiencing the agony and the shooting pain for hours upon the delivery of a baby and the tedious months of care before that, a new life is born. Surely I am on my way.

On being a major with a double minor

I want to talk to him but I can’t, so I’ll just write myself away. Distractions are good for this: moving on and knowing that you have to let go, for the good of both of you. It makes it easier when there’s something to keep you from losing control.

I am a bit wary and uncertain of my near future. I love the feeling that tomorrow will always be a mystery and good things can happen, but wow, I honestly do not know what I’m doing with my life, or what career path I am going to take in the future. Am I truly really going to be in the business world? Am I willing to get my hands dirty, harden my heart, and toughen myself up for the sake of profits and avoidance of loss? Am I really up for raising my voice, cracking the shell that binds me in comfort, and getting angry and being the boss of employers?

I have always found myself to be soft-spoken and a genuine follower. I know what to do but only when I am told; and if not, I do what I do but when I am alone. When I have nobody to shame for but myself so I can take the full blame and even then, nobody would have to know. Venturing into a business is real and it is worldwide– nationwide at least, and there will be real competition and real people trying to put you down and real hardships I will have to face, and wow, am I really getting into the business world I know doesn’t calculate to my own personality? Am I really going to change all that I am in order to be successful in something I may not even want or love to do? Ah I’m at such a loss. It’s quite funny because when I first ended up in Management, I was just following orders, taking the practical way up, going ‘oh I don’t know what I want, might as well choose something that’s helpful’ and four years later as a senior, I am still in the same rut. It’s kind of funny but somewhere along the way I felt like management was right for me, not in the kind where I like to manage people because I was never a good leader; I would kill myself if everybody depended me and I failed or didn’t do well enough, but I felt like doing the things we do in management is something fun, something I actually like to do. I know I am meant for more and management is my key to expansion and betterment. It gets me out and wrenches me up, extracting until all that is left is the resilient spirit knowledgable to handle anything. Through all of this I have realized that yes, I am actually going to have to change myself for a career, and not even just this but for any career I know I am going to end up advancing towards: companies or businesses that will consider me an asset, and to be an asset, I have to be louder, more efficient, productive, organized, and more open. Yes, more open– this is the keyword. Open to my self, and to people. I just have to OPEN UP because I’m shut too tight even I can’t breathe. The thing I figured out is, I like being in Management because I know it helps me become more but at the same time, I have decided that not only am I minoring in International Business but I am also taking creative writing. Every time I talk about minoring into something not related to business, I always hear frustration and confusion in people who proceed to say “Why? What good will that do for your future?” Let me tell you something: creative writing is not only about writing freely like most people think. It involves reading other people’s work, forming thoughts out of the box and serious critical thinking. This is what I’ve learned as a writer: you are always thinking. This is tantamount to being successful because you will need new thoughts, ideas, and solutions to problems. At the same time, your mind gets forced open by the shrillness of other worlds and words, to the minds and thoughts of people– their feelings, their emotions, their humanity. Plenty of people don’t want me to take a course not related to my career but guess what, I am HUMAN and my humanity matters. I am a being who feels and thinks and writes and sometimes I feel like this is all I am, all that connects me to myself– writing. I am a writer and I don’t want to be just an average writer. I want to be damn good at it. I want to develop myself– my hobbies, my strengths– I don’t want to settle to being only a business major because it’s practical. Being human is the most essential thing to me and management won’t get me there. Literature is the epitome of human nature– of all you, me, and everybody we’ve ever known will ever be. If that’s not practical, I don’t know what is.

I am tired of having to explain myself to people why I want to develop such ‘useless’ things. These things aren’t useless to me. Why? Because I believe in being the best version of myself. The Absolute Best. This means I won’t just be the Alex that is good enough and okay in some aspects of her life and awful in others. I don’t want to be told “oh it’s okay if you’re an awful singer, at least you have a nice voice when you talk!” I want to be GREAT in all the aspects I want to be great in. I want to be a great speaker. I want to be a great writer. I want to be a great leader, or even a follower. I want to be a great thinker to the point that I can think for myself and make decisions on my own– a great decider too. The best part is all of this is possible. Why must I only limit myself to one thing? I want to be a GREAT person and this means that I do not wish to settle for not expanding myself in even the ‘useless’ things that might not help me in the future. Who can honestly tell me that developing myself in other aspects will not help  me at all? Will it not make me more confident, more open, better and bigger as a whole person? Will it not cause me growth and expansion, not only in the aspects I choose to focus on but in every little piece of me– toned and refined to be the best version of myself. This best version of myself does not merely include my business managing career side, it includes every other part of me. I am a WHOLE person. Every part and aspect of me matters. I want to strengthen my strengths further, substantiate my weaknesses in all of me. Not just one part or two, but in most of the facets that I can. I am not for the detail, I focus on the entirety, the great potential that can be if cultivated. But the real issue is that I have to stop listening to people who say that what I do will be pointless and ineffectual. All the best people I know are writers. They are calm, collected, mature, and frackercakes, they have ideas that make you THINK, they are so open because they constantly keep their mind receptive because they are human in search for answers to lingering questions in the air. Writers have big minds and big hearts because they allow to feel, and they can be critical too, strongly opinionated and perceptive. None of the things anybody chooses to do is useless. Whether be an athlete swimmer, or a professional chess player (if there’s such thing), a philosopher or theologian, a painter, and yes, even writers. They are simply expanding their selves, and really, anybody and I do mean anybody can be bigger than life itself. A career doesn’t characterize that. I just wish people kept their eyes off me for a second and stopped questioning every questionable thing I choose to do.

Moreover, I wish I could stop caring so much about what people think. It is oft what holds me back and makes me question myself.

I really outdid myself this time.

It is not the end. It matters how you finish. Are you going to finish strong?“- Nick Vujicic, with no arms or legs

Throughout my life, I have always had this strong sense of conscience– my inner locus of control aware and telling if I ever lost my way. Every time I was thinking of doing things I wasn’t suppose to do like for instance, watching TV instead of studying for the next day, the inner voice would soon appear and fling guilt across my face, saying “Don’t do that, Lex. You have to be good to yourself.” I am struggling to get that back.

I just emailed the dean of my school about my intent of retaking a financial test because guess what, I flipping failed. I had too much fun, neglected my studies and travelled across Europe that I ignored that one subject whose teacher unfortunately really fails students. The bright side is, I’m not the only one who failed. Almost half the class did and they went to that class more than I. It doesn’t make it any better, though. It shouldn’t. And the JTA rule that stands is this: fail one, credit none. In other words, if I don’t get the second chance, none of my subjects abroad will push through and it’ll be like starting over again. Like, all that I’ve put in during that semester abroad was washed away, leaving a blank sheet ready for new hardships, marks, learnings, and failings. Add to that the fact that I am not graduating this year along with my fellow batchmates, having to stay behind another entire year for two subjects I did not anticipate. And then there’s the fact that I am totally failing economics now to the point where there is no hope and I have stopped going to class, and even though the teacher fails two-thirds of his class, I feel so bad because I am not usually part of that. I should be part of that one-third who passes. I should be above average.

God, I am so unsettled. I am just standing here, telling myself okay, this time I’m really going to study now. I’m going to do it. And then I find other things to do, matters that delay, and I end up sulking during nightfall when I realize that I failed myself again, yet another day I have wasted doing nothing good for myself. I have to stop this and I am, and there is sense in all of this. I know all these only means I have more opportunities to grow and expand myself and become– more chances for doing the things in college I was truly meant to do; be more open, find more meaning, and be good, so good. I never pictured myself graduating with honors but now that is the vision I hold, the vision I owe to at least myself and my parents who are doing a good deal investing in me, and because of all these failures, of being held back, of all the things I let slip by because of my own stubbornness, stupidity, and laziness, I am going to make sure I end well. I am going to finish strong and proud with my head held high, and I am going to get up that stage and receive honors that will make everybody proud and shock them out of their asses. I am going to turn things around and go for all that is good; reach higher and higher every day and keep trying.

There is that saying: once you’ve hit bottom, you can only go up.

Here’s to outdoing myself once more.