and here’s the story we’ve been missing:
I went to UPM today for the Orientation Program, Psychology test, Block lunch and Campus Tour. However, I was only able to attend the former two because of aggravating instances and dysmenorrhea. I know. It sucks but there’s more to the emotional pain than the physical. The psych test was one of the most remarkable tests I have ever took. Albeit it didn’t have anything to do with intellect or grades, it had everything to do with you yourself. I don’t know how come I could easily trust the paper I have just been handed for a short time of yet defy the people who have been with me through years. I nearly cried writing because of the frank questions. I mean normal kids would even find the test boring but I didn’t. It was tough in a different way. Words could barely justify how I felt because I don’t think I could put in here the actual questions from the test. Imagine being bombarded with questions you’ve been trying to run from most of your life. But then they finally meet me in a corner left with nowhere else to run, forced to face matters again. I would be glad if I had something nice to write and share on the paper but I don’t. I did before but now I much likely don’t have anything nice to share. You know what’s worse about crying? It’s holding your tears back and trying not to. It’s when you have to deepen your eyeballs into your sockets to keep the tears from flowing but then a tear or two escapes and you try even harder to force them back in. steal a wipe on your cheeks with shaking hands. And then you see the world still going on, oblivious to the hollow pain sucking you inside out. It like being screamed at over and over again of how you’re not worth it. When those realizations hit you hard and you see the reality of them, it sucks really, really, really bad.
The problem is these emotions inside me, whatever you call them feels like when you’re six feet below the ground feeling hopeless and desperate at the same time, and suddenly a happy balloon lifts you way up to the sky. But then at one point the balloon pops and you suddenly fall fast and straight and even harder on the ground. And worse, you’re now beyond six feet below.
So that’s why the pencil wasn’t returned to its rightful owner and why I missed to latter two activities today.
People are always or only acknowledged either at their last breath or just before they leave. It’s when people become a sudden confetti bursting themselves towards the target who is either of the two above. Why is that? Why just then? Why not always? Why not before. Whenever someone’s leaving either for good or not people suddenly feel the urge to let the world know how much they are and will be missed. How much they wish for a longer time to get close together as if they haven’t had all those years behind them to do so. Suddenly they ask the subject to stay golden, to stay amazing and to stay whatever they thought of him otherwise. Stay, stay, stay. They ask him to stay when he cannot as much less than a crow could stay white, than rust could stay golden, than Atlantis could stay afloat. Suddenly they want to expose their sympathy and farewells. Suddenly they go ahead and say the most immaculate things one could ever say to please or to praise. Suddenly the world is flooded with goodbyes and thanksgiving. Suddenly everything is so surreal.
But once upon before the concept of leaving was ever brought to mind and going away was never even a thought, everything was the hell opposite. People cuss, people judge. People stab and they definitely bite. People don’t ask you to stay golden; they expose your rust; they devour on your every hollow. they don’t ask you to stay amazing; they keep you from being amazing. And they most definitely don’t ask you to stay; they ask you to do otherwise. They never say the most immaculate things, rather the most inedible of them. They criticize, not praise. They ostracize, not please. Suddenly, the world is scorching, and burning with rejection and ungratefulness; negativity and cruelty. Suddenly, everything is so real.