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I don't know what to feel.

Now, that first sentence was easy to write. The rest wouldn't be. There's a hole in my heart. Cliche, it is. Fine. Cliches would describe this well. But they wouldn't be enough. Because there are specifics. Specifics like you driving your motorcycle in the middle of the night to that gas station just to talk. Now that's not cliche, but that's formulaic, but formulas makes it easier to deconstruct things. Things like a great friendship going on for a few months then self-destructing. Almost like a summer love. But it wasn't. Because there were actual emotions involved. This is real life. It wasn't as easy to let go. Things don't have closure. You would never tell me what happened. Nor would I ask why.

But I dreamed of you last night. I don't know where you are right now or what you are doing. We haven't talked in, exaggeratedly, eons. (Another cliche.) But I dreamed of you. That's the closest to reality that I can get to you. I didn't will it but my subconscious found a way to let you in. I don't know what to feel.

I think I feel hurt and betrayed. I wish I could tell you this. You have debunked not only the general view of things but also my personal belief of goodness in humankind. You were an asshole, in the simplest of terms. Cliched and formulaic, both. But you are not stereotypical. I wanted to prove this but you made it difficult with your actions. So I guess you were, after all, cliched, formulaic, stereotypical. Asshole.

Midst of it all

a quick word
on things that never get done
never run out
making up everything and nothing

Carrie Mathison

Hello. So...

C and I talked last night (technically yesterday morning) about us, what happened, life in general. We were completely honest to each other. The gist is, we're okay for now.

Now I'm the one having problems with myself.

I've been watching too much Homeland. I've finished already finished Season 2, which on my normal working phase, an episode wouldn't even have a chance getting into my schedule. But since I feel like shit, I allowed myself to make that lapse.

This is my pattern. When something big and unexpected happens, I get lost. One friend used to liken me to an ant. That when you put something in an ant's way, it wouldn't know what to do. It doesn't realize that it can just work its way around it and then it will be able to continue its original path. I'm not saying that I am like that. I wouldn't like to think so. I prefer to think that I have a choice. I wasn't wired to be that way and that a pattern can be broken. I'm not an ant.

My pattern:

Something bad or big or emotional happens.

I get all worked up.

I get a momentary feeling of panic but

I work, I do something, whether I fix it or I do other things so long as it allows me to move.

After that I crash.

I get tired,

depressed.

I think about what happened. About my faults, weaknesses, limitations. I feel helpless.

At this stage, I know that I'm screwed.

After something that's happened in college many years ago, I applied for work and focused on that. Did nothing but work, made friends in the office, and stayed with my boyfriend the rest of the time. After a month, come enrollment time, I didn't enroll. It was only then that I had a time to stop and think about what happened and decided that I wasn't ready to face it.

When C and I broke up, I went haywire. I was always intoxicated or partying or just being a bitch or an asshole. But after that intense phase, it all went downhill again.

Happened also when I quit from that last film I worked on. That's my pattern. 

And I am at that last stage right now. It has been a week. I spent the whole of last week working. Now I can't work. I can't do anything. I just want to sulk. I feel guilty that we--I have hurt another human being in a way I never thought I could. Never. In any lifetime. I hate patriarchy and everything that comes with it, so naturally, I am not a violent person. I never thought it possible for me to become even close to harassing someone. But I did. I shouted at the taxi driver. Because I thought he was wrong. That was all. I thought I was wrong and he hurt my friends. I'm sure I said a lot of mean things I couldn't remember after. That is what's scary, I don't remember a lot of what I said. I just remember myself wanting him to suffer, because he was a bad person in my mind.

I know that it was the alcohol. But I've never been like that even in my most intoxicated state. So that's what's eating me up. What have I turned into? Am I now like them? Am I now like C and his friends? His friends who in a lot of ways have become my friends too, I hang out with them, but I have always promised myself not to be like them. So now I am consciously telling myself, I don't want to be like that. I need to take a second look and check the culture I'm living in, with, and by. I was a good person and I intend to be that way. I am questioning my own character and I don't want to. I want to believe that I am good. But am I? I know that I was. But am I still?

I want a break. But I can't have it. I need myself not to have it. There is not going to be a break this time. I have to get out of that pattern and stop making excuses about being human and being a subjective being. That excuse is for those who can afford it. For those who can afford getting checked just because they're having a "pattern" and can afford to buy meds to get out of their shit. I believe that I can will this.

---------

Extra rant.

Carrie Mathison has a bipolar disorder, which somehow makes me relate to her a bit. I am not bipolar. But I can imagine being in her shoes, how difficult it might be for someone with the same disorder. I understand that we're talking about a fictional character here but we all have our avenues of release, right? And mine just happened to be Homeland at this very moment. So we relate ourselves to whatever we're watching or listening to at a particular emotional, economical, personal, whatever-else phase. I'm feel lucky that I don't have what Carrie has. But still, she has the means to live with a sickness like that. 

Imagine a farmer or a factory worker, in the Philippines, getting the same sickness. What I'm saying is, these sicknesses are of the bourgeois. Meaning,fine, let's just say a farmer is born with clinical depression (though I have never met one), they are able to live with it. Because they don't have a choice. They don't have room for depression. They have bigger things to take care of. And this is exactly how I felt when I was still a student activist. It was a difficult role to have but I really didn't give a shit about my emotions. I would talk about them to comrades and it was very easy, because I was very comfortable with them, and they understood. We were on the same wavelength, same culture, hence same language.

I went my back to my old pattern when that college incident happened. After that, never again did I have long, straight months of unperturbed, focused, and stable well-being. And I came back worse. I was terrible. My boyfriend then had to suffer for it. I think he handled it very well up to the point that he want me to be happy so badly that I had too much freedom.

Anyway. I need to find my balance. I need to be productive but not bury myself with work. I'm trying to find a will to do that. I don't know how.

I got arrested.

But I don't want this post to be about that. Yes, I spent about 16 hours of last Sunday in a police station. I tell people that it was just a Saturday night gone bad. It truthfully was, but it's not as simple as it sounds.
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Almost an hour later.

I realized I'm not even ready to write about it now. It's too sad. I'm not worried for me--well, okay, a  little, but I'm really worried for C. I don't even know what he's thinking about these days. The last time that we talked about the incident he sounded like he's blaming the other three that we were with that night, who were also arrested that night. It even sounded like he was saying that it was just the two of us who were in the right minds, who didn't actually want to hurt the taxi driver. I know for sure that both of us were equally at fault as the other three. But I guess I expected him to realize his faults for himself. I mean, I thought it was obvious. We were there, it's not like we stopped what was happening. But no, he thinks that somehow his actions were excusable, at least compared to what the others did. So I guess I'm disappointed. I'm not sure if I can live with this kind of attitude for the rest of my life. I'm not saying that he's a bad person. Because he is not, he is a good guy. I think I have just always wanted better. Arrogance and all, I do feel that I deserve better. Not just for my own sanity, but for my partner's too. Because it's not just about the attitude, it's about how different we both grew up. I'm not even talking about childhood-to-puberty stuff, but how he spent his youth and with what types of people, and how I spent mine with a totally different group of people, who I honestly believe are better persons.

I was so wired after what happened that I buried myself with work. I felt okay and content. But during times that my mind isn't pre-occupied about the tasks I have to finish, I remember C. I remember that I really love him. But no relationship has succeeded on love alone. I feel like if this relationship continues like the way it is now for another year I will go crazy. It takes so much energy to guide someone. It sucks out so much energy from you that it's too late when you realize that it has stunt your growth. I realized this only two years ago which led to me breaking up with him. But I didn't handle myself well after that. I didn't become productive. I was too miserable I self-destructed. But I found myself back on track. I takes a while but I do it--work hard for it. Mid-last year, I started to see things that I want to happen for myself, and I felt our relationship to be something that held me back. I wanted to break up with him again but he wouldn't allow it. So here we are, months after. We still got nothing else but love to keep us going.

What happened that day wasn't a big crime, but I can't explain the impact it did to my life. Not the incident itself, but what came after. I did have realizations about myself but honestly, I'm not even thinking about doing a major overhaul on my life. I'm still doing and will keep doing what I've been doing before it happened, more or less. I am more concerned on C's life. Will he change? Will he be able to catch up? How long will I be able to wait? These realizations didn't even happen directly because of the incident. I've been having these thoughts for a while. But I think what happened was so big of a shock that I was forced to step back and look at my life in a bigger picture, and this relationship seems to be the big chunk of the puzzle that I can't solve.

6:54 AM

always searching for something
never quite learning
it's a new day and hey
he's still coming like he never went
away

here's everything
but won't keep him sitting still
never satisfied until something's epic
but boy, don't you see?

here's me

things get confusing in the morning
while I'm sleeping he's prepping
he's going away, oh stay
he's still going and I'm left alone
today

here's everything
but won't keep him sitting still
never satisfied until something's epic
but boy, don't you see?

here's me

always feeling like the world is leaving
never thinking, always taking
he's on his way but hey
he's chasing nothing
all day

here's something
I won't be sitting still
you're never satisfied, nothing's epic
so I'm making you see--
---
feeling lyrics