Now I Know

I sit here, and ache. This has been a difficult, difficult year. I thought that 2016 had run its course. Meron parin palang overlap. It’s ridiculous, the way things have turned out. However, I am glad.

I’m glad that I chose to be kind.

I’m glad that I’ve learned how to fight, albeit quietly.

I’m glad that I didn’t retaliate.

I’m glad that I’ve stood by the people I love, and done so with dignity.

I’m glad that the people who love me, loved me through everything.

I’m glad that the people who had different impressions of me, learned the truth.

I’m glad that no matter what the system says, the people who matter understand one simple truth: not everything that’s right, should be. Not everything that should be– okay, I’m parking this thought, mahirap pala pag English.

“Hindi lahat ng tama, dapat. Hindi lahat ng dapat, pwede.”

Thank you, M. Coloma. ūüôā

Because of what has happened, I can honestly say that what people think of me, or how they perceive me doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. What they think of me is none of my business. I care about the work that needs to be done. I’ve learned to find the balance between what they think and feel, with how I think and feel, and figure out how we can still work together to get things done.¬†This year taught me a lesson on grit, and working through the pain (both professional, and personal). I’ve accepted the truth of betrayal again and again, not because I want to but coz, well… life just kept throwing those situations my way. Talk about test of friendships and relationships, jeez! This has been one heck of a year!

I’ve accepted politics, to be part of my¬†world. Betrayal has found its home in my memories, again and again. It hurts just the same each time, but at least it can’t take me by surprise anymore. I now know in a deeply personal way that injustice exists, even in a place you’ve loved so well. On a personal note: I’ve been betrayed by the people I’ve loved and trusted most in the world, but I’m glad to realize that until now, I am willing to open my heart to new friends and lovers. Despite being burned so badly, I still love passionately. I still believe in the old ideals: honor, friendship, and loyalty.

Yes, friends you loved and trusted will think the worst of you.

Yes, friends you loved and trusted will use you. Deliberately.

No, I will not harden my heart.

I am determined to use the hurt to grow in compassion and love. They too, taught me something. They too, allowed me to grow.

I choose to grow wiser, and more loving. My eyes are open to these realities now, and I may be suspicious of the people who hurt me before, but I’ll never close my doors to those who knock on it.

The same way they were wrong about me, I know that I might have been wrong about them. How can I be so certain of the nature and motivations of others, when many have been wrong about mine? 

As the apologies come in, I find myself quick to set their minds at ease. Maybe it’s stupid, but that’s how my nature rolls, I guess. It’s painful enough to realize how wrong you are about a person; it takes courage to reach out and admit that. Respect, ya know? I respect that and honor the gesture. My best friends would want me to have them squirm muna of course but again, masyadong soft talaga ang¬†heart ko sa ganyan, I don’t know why.

I’m not angry, I’m sad.

I’m sad that things turned out the way it did.

I’m sad that people have been hurt so much in the past, that it affected the way they perceive people and situations. I’m sad that I live and work in a system that protects the self-righteous, and punishes the victims. It’s just so sad.

Whatever happens, I’m thankful for the people who’s hearts have been true. There’s no price on people who believe in you no matter what. These people, are the best people, and I’m proud to know so many of them, who know me – the good and the bad, and knows me as myself.

I owe it to them to know myself more.

I owe it to myself to know myself more.

I owe it to others to master myself.

Damn. This is gonna hurt.

Steady

Can you hear it? The whispers in the ocean, telling you that everything will be alright. I stood at the edge of a shore and felt the warmth of my Mother, saying with all certainty,¬†my child you are mine and this love is steady, sure, infinite.¬†I read somewhere that saltwater has the power to heal. I’ve tried to make friends with my tears.¬†You too, are trying to help me,¬†I¬†say reluctantly. Breathe, Marj. All you can do is breathe, and love the world the way water loves you.

My middle name is Nahid, which is the modern form of the name¬†Anahita. Because of that, water speaks to me the way a lover would. When a lover speaks I listen. Foolish, but there it is. “Courage, dear heart.”

 

October 4

Happy feast day of St. Francis of Assisi! Below is a quote from him that I particularly like:

francisofassisi153348

The past week has been a joyful trial. Does that make sense? Anyway, it does to me. It resonates, like the sound of a deep, mournful echo of a bell that reaches to your heart.

Today I went out for badminton with ‘old friends’. Old in the sense that they’re now from different departments and organizations. Who can replace people from the past? Better people in the present. Nah, I’m kidding.

Or am I?

I’ve learned to appreciate people from my past. I appreciate them for the lessons they’ve taught me if our friendship has run its course. For those who’ve stayed, I’m grateful for… I have no words to express how grateful I am for people who’ve remained in my life. They are irreplaceable.

11:57

Just like that, I feel less fear than what I’m used to. For months I’ve lived in fear and longing for something lost. Maybe, it never existed in the first place.

It’s been awhile. Life has changed me in such a short time. This year I’ve changed more than I’ve had in years. Your effect is undeniable.

This is me, moving forward from the mess we left behind ‘on the night you were so reckless.’

From Before


I went to Coral View with the Burgundy Girls a few weekends ago. Coral View instead of Japan for the big 30th. I’ll still insist on Japan one day. 

Alone, my thoughts naturally drift towards missing you. This photo reminds me that you, like everyone, naturally occur in the world. Everything connects. May I always have the eye to see, and the heart to understand that eventually, people come back to where they should be. It’s inevitable. It’s gravity. 

We make do with what we see, and what we have is beautiful. Despite how destroyed I sometimes feel, I know without a doubt that life is a gift. I am determined to treat each day with love. I wish to live, God. I wish to exist in this world, with the people You allow me to meet. 

It’s in moments like this that I stuggle to see the stars. Somehow, I find they are always there if I look hard enough. 

The 18th

There’s a part of me that wishes I¬†didn’t listen to them. Maybe if I¬†kept my mind closed, this¬†heart would’ve been spared from longing¬†for you, or at the very least gotten some sleep at night.

Please don’t misunderstand my feelings: I don’t begrudge you for not wanting me. A person has every right to choose who he wants to be with. This is just my way of passing time, relieving the panic and sadness in my chest; a girl like me finds a way to move forward from someone like you.

 

Writers, Write

A writer, writes. You can’t determine which writer is better. How can you decide if this writer deserves more pay than the other? You don’t judge them on their creativity, style of writing, or story concept. You can use the number of hits they have, or maybe the versatility in which they’re able to translate their story into a concept for film, TV, or webisodes.

But to determine a system of determining whether this writer is better creatively than the other? That’s absolute nonsense; that’s insulting. Stephanie Meyer is not a great writer by any means, but she managed to generate millions off of Twilight. E.L. James of 50 Shades of Grey fame is a terrifically bad writer in a genre dominated by erotic romance giants, but no one can deny the popularity of her fanfiction turned mainstream BDSM novel. By all means, give your money and benefits to those writers who continuously draw audiences in; yes, they drive revenue.

But don’t tell me that you can determine which writer gets more based on¬†creativity.

You can be a damn good writer with Palanca level skeelz and not have mainstream success. Your body of work may shed light into a particular area of the human condition, and have nobody care.

A writer, writes. A writer has a story inside of them, and they tell it the best way they can, in their own way, style, and time. What works for you, might not work for the masses. Who are we to judge the masses for what they love and want?

A writer, writes. A writer reads. A writer feels, thinks, and practices the craft over and over again, in his or her desire to tell a story. There is a Universe inside writers, and you can’t put a measure on their worlds or characters! A writer’s ability is¬†not quantifiable! Of course, I’m talking about the real deal kind of writer here, the one’s who have perfect command of grammar and language.

But still, don’t tell me you can assess which writer deserves more, based on the kind of story he or she chooses to tell. I’m neither a writer or a creative person, as described by our organization, but I know this much is true: A writer’s life is both hard and rewarding; a true writer writes because he has a story inside of him, and he spends his life figuring out how best this can be told.

That’s just me, of course.