Sunday, March 19, 2006
Blogmarathon Day Five -- Ouch.
Papercuts hurt because there is no one to kiss the pain away. Water + BandAid + much love and care. Just like problems are sick shits because you can't find solutions or alternatives to zap zap them all away like you do Baygon to cockroaches.
Alah bisa, tegal biasa. A proverb that probably is not applicable to me, at least. Of course you tend to grow numb from all the exposure to pain because that's what you get all the time but I'm not biasa to all that. I don't want to biasakan myself with the stabs and bites because they eat you up inside like acid burning you from within.
I spent about 10 years trying to keep my temper in check. I have an internal system that has its own anger management unit and it has been working well. I don't want all my efforts to be wasted. But there will be a time when running won't release enough endorphines to keep my sunshine, when writing will lose its therapeutic magic, when drawing will produce a blank picture, and that is probably when I'll return to the darker side. I'll be seeking refuge in tunnels and empty shells.
Naive by nature, I used to view the world as cotton-candy pink withhumping hopping bunnies and... carebears? Y'see, i didn't have a dad back then; it was just Mama, Kakak and me. And we lived with my late Yayi and my still very much living and loving kickass Nenek. So naturally, they bundled me up in layers and layers of blankets, placed me in a lovely cradle, into a bulletproof box, jampi2-ed the whole package to keep me away from bad spirits and had me living in a darn protected world. Wait, I hope you know I don't mean it literally, the bundling up and all.
But even in the safest abode, evil still lurks. And manifests itself as accidents, emotional blackmail, growth (growing up IS evil), pain, troubles, betrayal. Pain.
Nobody, not even my superhero grandparents can protect me from harm. Sometimes these harms were self-induced. I happened to have an affinity to hot things (that's understandable eyy, I happen to be a hot nurse hoho) and I've gotten myself burnt once too many. There was once when I touched a still-steaming-hot cooking pan in the kitchen sink when Nenek clearly told me succinctly not to go near it. And then there was another time when I reached out to touch the stream of boiling water Mama was pouring into a pail.
Other than that, I have no part in causing harm to myself, really. Like when I was swinging my leg and it hit the iron my aunt was using. It was the iron's fault. Or my aunt's. My toe swelled big time. It was cool, you know!
And then I found out the meaning of betrayal.
That was before I knew how to use the dictionary. Heck, I didn't even know a dictionary exists. If I did, I'd have shoved the book in her face, with the appropriate page facing her. But I was still reeling from the shock. Lying was never taught in the family, either taught to use or taught not to use. It was unwritten. But well understood. So when she threw blatant lies in my face, over and over again in one sitting, it was as if I'll never knew if I'd be able to trust again.
I knew then it was time to grow up.
Grew up, I did, and still growing. I paste my own BandAids now… I clean my own wounds; I kiss my own pain away.
I have a positive outlook in life, sure do, but generally I'm cynical. I had hoped she'd change -- she doesn't, or hasn't. Still lying, still do, and it's so so hard to respect someone who kills my trust time and again and still harbours no regrets.
But we're family, we stick together and we follow through.
--------------------------------------------------------
fara // 13:54
Blogmarathon Day Five -- Ouch.
Papercuts hurt because there is no one to kiss the pain away. Water + BandAid + much love and care. Just like problems are sick shits because you can't find solutions or alternatives to zap zap them all away like you do Baygon to cockroaches.
Alah bisa, tegal biasa. A proverb that probably is not applicable to me, at least. Of course you tend to grow numb from all the exposure to pain because that's what you get all the time but I'm not biasa to all that. I don't want to biasakan myself with the stabs and bites because they eat you up inside like acid burning you from within.
I spent about 10 years trying to keep my temper in check. I have an internal system that has its own anger management unit and it has been working well. I don't want all my efforts to be wasted. But there will be a time when running won't release enough endorphines to keep my sunshine, when writing will lose its therapeutic magic, when drawing will produce a blank picture, and that is probably when I'll return to the darker side. I'll be seeking refuge in tunnels and empty shells.
Naive by nature, I used to view the world as cotton-candy pink with
But even in the safest abode, evil still lurks. And manifests itself as accidents, emotional blackmail, growth (growing up IS evil), pain, troubles, betrayal. Pain.
Nobody, not even my superhero grandparents can protect me from harm. Sometimes these harms were self-induced. I happened to have an affinity to hot things (that's understandable eyy, I happen to be a hot nurse hoho) and I've gotten myself burnt once too many. There was once when I touched a still-steaming-hot cooking pan in the kitchen sink when Nenek clearly told me succinctly not to go near it. And then there was another time when I reached out to touch the stream of boiling water Mama was pouring into a pail.
Other than that, I have no part in causing harm to myself, really. Like when I was swinging my leg and it hit the iron my aunt was using. It was the iron's fault. Or my aunt's. My toe swelled big time. It was cool, you know!
And then I found out the meaning of betrayal.
That was before I knew how to use the dictionary. Heck, I didn't even know a dictionary exists. If I did, I'd have shoved the book in her face, with the appropriate page facing her. But I was still reeling from the shock. Lying was never taught in the family, either taught to use or taught not to use. It was unwritten. But well understood. So when she threw blatant lies in my face, over and over again in one sitting, it was as if I'll never knew if I'd be able to trust again.
I knew then it was time to grow up.
Grew up, I did, and still growing. I paste my own BandAids now… I clean my own wounds; I kiss my own pain away.
I have a positive outlook in life, sure do, but generally I'm cynical. I had hoped she'd change -- she doesn't, or hasn't. Still lying, still do, and it's so so hard to respect someone who kills my trust time and again and still harbours no regrets.
But we're family, we stick together and we follow through.
fara // 13:54
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♥ Fara. Forever20. Nurse. In the pursuit of kidnapping Happy.
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