How good is being good, really? When everything’s done and goals are achieved, how can we say that we’re on the best state that we are? Because you see, the thing is we would never be satisfied. We would never be contented of the things we have or the person that we’ve become. There would always be a feeling of wanting to be on the next level.
And is it a good thing? Of course it is. But…
All through your life, have you ever thought of getting a rope and hang yourself on it? Drown yourself on the sea of pills? Or even jump from the top building of who-knows-how-high just to get yourself killed?
Because if you ever did then I’m telling you, you’re not the only one.
So it’s 8:48 am of Wednesday and I just got home from an overnight at Cy’s apartment last night. I ran to take a bath just when I open the room of the dormitory I’m residing in. “Tanghali na!” – are the words that kept running through my mind. I have no enough sleep; just a nap of approximately 20 minutes after I finished the news article at about 5:30 AM. And I need to remind myself that I still have a major class at 1:30.
Yes, the bed is very inviting but the coldness of the water from the shower made me numb from exhaustion and pressure that I should be feeling because of school demands.
I never thought Philippine media can get more complicated than what it is right now. I was indeed walking blindly with my aspirations without further knowing what I get myself into. And creepy as it may seem, I could actually picture myself out as a kid with a random bulky guy behind me whispering, “hindi mo alam kung anong pinapasok mo, bata”.
That was the vast effect of reading From Loren to Marimar for an aspiring media practitioner like me. It was gruesome yet addicting.
Do you want to hear a short horror story? It’s so short; I could give it to you in one word – Philippines. Kidding, it’s a bluff.
But on the other note, we are so used of the constant issues that when someone offered change, we tend to refuse. Quoting Lord Varys from Game of Thrones series, “perhaps we’ve grown so used to horror we assume there’s no other way”.
Truth is, it’s not the country that is horrifying. It’s the people within it.
It was the 28th of August, Sunday, when I have finally told myself that I don’t like him anymore. It wasn’t much of a big deal probably, but for me it is.
I could still recall those times where I would stalk him on social media, save his photos on my gallery, act all giddy when he’s around and even boast about his talent to my family as if I was a proud girlfriend. Yes, my family knew how I adore him. It wasn’t a secret, after all.
But what I felt for him was toxic.