The Girl Who Loves Butterflies

I had just written a short note to dad. I will give it to him tomorrow. He was in a hurry when I met him along the corridors. He kept complaining about the rats in his office. Serves him right what will all those unmarked essays. That office of his is a fire hazard. But seriously, I really need his help now. This thing with Mr. Manuel and Mrs. Rubio is getting out of hand. Mrs. Rubio has been spreading more and more rumors about me. I...I think she knows about dad. And I’m scared for him more. He could lose his job. And the reputation that he has built for twenty years. And Mr. Manuel would be more than willing to help that jabberwocky. He doesn’t have a mind of his own I guess.
Still, I am scared. I have never taken on such an insidious pair. To make matters worse, mom isn’t much of a help. She just stares at me and does not talk much. (mood swings again, sigh) And just when I need her help most. I sometimes wonder why God has given me so many burdens. And all this time, all I wanted was just to do my very best.
The hell with Coca and Jeff. They deserve each other. I still don’t know how to deal with Coca. We still hang out although we rarely talk. Today. She tried being nice, filling up my water jug and running small errands even without me asking her. And avoiding being seen with Jeff. She tried making small talk but I just gave her one-word answers. The tension between us is so palpable. Something has to give. I have to confront her before this week is over. Either we repair our friendship or we part ways. Those are the only alternatives left. I think we did well with our make-up experiment with Mr. Manuel. He did give us another chance (what with the headmaster himself writing a letter to him) and well, I have noticed that his teaching has improved a bit. He still hates me I know. He made me and Coca do a complex set-up. But I think we made it.
It’s Mike though who worries me a lot. He has been distant ever since I told him that I needed time before going into another relationship. In fact, today, he approached Coca and me, and he talked almost exclusively to Coca. As if I weren’t there. I just pretended to read my chemistry book but I would catch Mike stealing glances at me. And for the first time since I met him, the laughter in those eyes were gone. They were cold, piercing, disturbing. They continued talking about many things including powdered soap (what the hell?!) and the upcoming prom.
He then says goodbye to Coca, totally ignores me.
I must sleep now. There’s a pain in my stomach which I can’t explain.
Must have been the radishes I had for dinner.

Tomorrow, school resumes. Everything is still there. Yet everything has changed. And somehow, I am still scared. Yesterday, I had a no-care attitude. But it didn’t last. I don’t know how to face the people who have made life so difficult for me. And there’s no one else to turn to except for mom, and that’s only when she’s stable.
Anyway, I found this poem by E. E. Cummings and I couldn’t believe he could write such a lovely poem. It tugged at my heartstrings and...and if Mike comes to his senses...I am going to give him a copy of this poem when he asks me to be his girlfriend once more. That is...if he’s still interested.

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart) by E.E. Cummings

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart).
I am never without it.
Anywhere I go, you go, my dear.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
Here is the root of the root,
And the bud of the bud,
And the sky of the sky,
Of a tree called life,
Which grows higher than soul can hope,
Or mind can hide,
And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart:
I carry your heart – I carry it in my heart.

I wonder what dad has in store for us. More mythology, I guess. And I better see the headmaster so that Mr. Manuel will be forced to give me and Coca a make-up exam.
Things might not be as bright as they were last Christmas...but this is my year and I am going to make the best of it.
What could possibly go wrong?

A new year. New hope.
And I will do well especially with senior year just a few months away. I will pass the UPCAT and I will make it to UP. And I will try to find all possible scholarships so mom will not have a difficult time making both ends meet.
And the prom? I’m going stag.
Mike? Let him make the first move. Let him realize the error of his ways.
Jeff? I don’t have anything to say.
Dad? Hope he comes to his senses and for once, he becomes brave enough.
Jabberwocky? I hope she chokes on a fishbone.
Manolo? I hope he gets fired.
Coca? I...I’ll see how she is. She never communicated much after our fight. But...but I’m willing to mend fences. We might never be able to recover what we have lost but....but there’s still a chance that we will end up friends. I am willing to forgive her if she asks for it. I dunno how to deal with her. I stumbled upon a fragment of her psychological profile and I was...disturbed to learn about her problems. Apparently, she has is egocentric, super competitive, and emotionally unstable. She wants, needs, and feeds on the attention of others. I do hope she does well with the drama club. It fits her, really fits her. She does know how to act. Sometimes...sometimes, I feel that our entire friendship had always been an act for her. I know that it wasn’t that case on my part.
Mom’s been forcing me to drink the pills once more. Says that it will do me good to get some more rest. I hate it when she does that although I do admit that ever since I broke up with Jeff, sleep has been a luxury. I could eke out three to four hours at best and then I’d wake up, sleep for about two hours, and wake up again. Mom says that this will surely destroy my body and I already feel the effects. I always feel tired. Is this an omen of things to come this New Year? Will I always be tired then? Will the sleeping pill replace Coca as my best friend? I hope not. God, I hope not.
Yes, this is a new year. And I will show St. Jude that I will survive, that I will emerge as a better person. Bloody and bruised, true. But defeated, no way.

Mike asked me to be his girlfriend today.
And that’s when the trouble started.
I wasn’t ready yet. I knew that I felt good being around him but I still can’t shake off the fact that he had shown great interest in Coca when I was still with Jeff. I told him that I wasn’t prepared yet. That I still wanted to rest from the trauma that Jeff had given me.
And all of a sudden, he became cold. He accused me of leading him on. Of giving him mixed signals. I vigorously defended myself. I told him I liked him a lot but I kept stressing that I wasn’t prepared.
And you know what he did? He just looked at me before walking away.
And later that night, he didn’t even text back when I sent him an apology.
What a way to end the year. Just when I thought things were looking up, just when I thought I had found someone I can depend on...things go poof.
And as mom and I watched the fireworks erupt from everywhere, I embraced her tightly and I think she was quite surprised. And all my frustrations came tumbling out. I told her about Jeff, about Coca, about Mike, about Mrs. Rubio, about Mr. Manuel and everything else I could think of. I was shaking badly. And I was crying without even knowing that I was doing so.
Mom embraced me, took me upstairs and cooed me to sleep.
When I woke up sometime after midnight, her arm was protectively wrapped around me.
I...I never felt so loved by my mom until this time.
I cried silently until exhaustion drove me to sleep.

Mike and I have been going out for five days now. Ever since Christmas, we have been inseparable. I mean, he’s really nice and all and I really like him. We went out and watched some of the movies in the Metro Manila Film Fest. Most of them were crap anyway but we had a fun time providing a running commentary. The other patrons even looked at us amusedly (and perhaps with a little irritation) when we stumbled out of “Blue Moon” laughing our hearts out. I mean...that movie was supposed to be a drama...but it tickled me in a funny way seeing all those actors trying to get their “pang-award” moments. We then went to watch the latest installment of “Shake, Rattle, and Roll” and we nearly burst our stomachs laughing. It was indeed very funny. All those monsters that looked like kids inside badly made Halloween costumes.
And this time, when he tried to kiss me on the lips for the fifth straight night, I didn’t move away.

It was a rather interesting Christmas. Surprise of all surprises, dad sends a gift. It’s an IPOD. I smiled when I opened it. Finally, after all these years, I have gifts from both my parents. Mom was lucid yesterday. She woke me up early and we went to mass. Mom gave me a laptop. That sent me into tears. That was the reason why she had been scrimping for the past two years. She had been saving for this. We hugged each other, all our animosity forgotten. She then cooked a superb meal. This is mom at her best. Without the mood swings, I could say that I would want to stay near her forever. But best not to keep my hopes up. Mom has this tendency to backslide what with her drinking and all. But if there is one gift that I ask from God, it’s to make sure that mom pulls out of her misery. No one, not even I, could do so. It has to be a conscious and sincere effort on her part. I can just cheer her on. I was waiting for dad to call or something but I guess he was with his other family. He did send me a text message expressing his love for me. Kind of hard to believe given that he has been running away from me ever since I was born. But I guess I’ll just have to bear things the way they are. Mom, despite her cheery mood, kept on grumbling about how dad had gotten off lightly. All I could do was give her a tired smile. In truth, however, I don’t want dad to leave his family for us. I...my world has already been rocked too much these past few months. And I don’t need another intruder into my life because is how I see dad. He is an intruder...a rather welcome one, but an intruder nonetheless.
Coca called and we exchanged greetings and made excuses to get off the phone. My rage has finally simmered down. I am willing to forgive her and Jeff as long as they don’t smooch in front of me. It’s bad enough that they betrayed me; I don’t need to be reminded of it.
And the biggest surprise? Mike showed up on my doorstep at six in the evening. He asked my mom if he could take me out. My mom, being quite generous (it’s Christmas anyway) allowed me to be out until ten. I...I was at least glad for the company. I have had this crush on Mike since I was a freshman and I knew that he liked me too. Too bad, I got tangled with Jeff but that’s the problem with Mike. He tends to be shy despite his stature and good looks. And I prefer him to Jeff because he can carry a good conversation. With Jeff it’s all about himself- Mike knows how to listen. I attended mass – for the second time in one day (not that I minded) – and we went to this small coffee shop to while away the time. We talked about many things although we avoided my recent heartache. That’s what I like about Mike. He knows many things and he knows the things happening to his friends. And he knows which topics are off limits.
He then walked me home and we continued talking under the night sky. The stars were out in force. Perhaps...perhaps there is indeed some redemption at the end of all trials. Just right at the doorstep, Mike pulls out this package from his jacket. He greets me a merry Christmas and he leans forward. I...I think he was trying to kiss me on the lips but I moved my face away and he ended up kissing my cheek. He apologized and walked away, leaving me in wonder.
His gift was a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda. And he had dog-eared a page on the poem he wanted me to read:

Ode to a Secret Love
They’ve guessed our secret, you know.
They see me, they see us,
And nothing has been said –
Neither your eyes nor your voice,
Neither your hair nor your love have said a word –
But suddenly they know,
They know without even knowing they know.
I wave goodbye and set off in another direction,
And they know
You’re waiting for me.

It turned out to be the best Christmas of my young life.

It’s gonna be a bleak Christmas. I can feel it in the air. The happiest time of the year and now...all these. And mom keeps on insisting that I take those pills so I can sleep. Perhaps she’s right. I haven’t been able to sleep well these past few days. I called myself strong. I thought I would be able to weather everything that came my way. But in the end, just like what happened to Ernest Hemingway’s characters, the world has beaten me.
There’s not much to write. School’s on a break and damn! I forgot to show up for Mr. Manuel’s experiment. He’ll really be mad. But Coca and I had our first major quarrel...I mean after discovering that she was the one behind my break-up with Jeff...how could I perform the experiment with her? You tell me.
Anyway, I did promise you a copy of my essay. This is the original. I submitted a shortened copy to dad.

“Hell”
Sarah Santos

“Hell is other people.” This is what the German philosopher, Nietzsche states. In this essay, I will attempt to prove that this statement is true using Dante’s vision of hell and its inhabitants. I will cite cases from my personal experiences and prove that hell indeed is not a place; rather it is a state of being brought about by individuals. The persons who have brought hell into my life are: my mother and Mr. Manuel who belong to the fifth circle, my ex-boyfriend Jeff who belongs to first ring of the seventh circle, Mike and my dad who belong to the place outside the gate of Hell, Mrs. Rubio who inhabits the eighth circle, ninth pouch, and finally my best friend Coca who belongs to the ninth circle. In the succeeding paragraphs, I will prove why they deserve these places.”
The fifth circle is the home of the wrathful and the sullen. The wrathful are those who express their rage to the world while the sullen are those who keep their grudges and their hurts within. My mom is a combination of both. When she is angry, she is truly terrifying. During such times, I sometimes get hit. But I get more scared when she is sullen. When I don’t know why she is angry. She feels as if I were a burden thrust upon her. She seemed on her way to a good future when she was my age. And then she fell for a man who was already married and then she had me. And suddenly, all her dreams were gone.
Mr. Manolo, on the other hand, is wrathful. But his wrath is senseless. He just hates the world and the big joke is he couldn’t do anything about it. The world hates him too. Some wrathful people can get respect, Mr. Manuel flounders and no matter what he does, he couldn’t get it. His is a misdirected rage which unfortunately he directs towards us, his students.
Now Jeff. He has hit me several times. At first, I thought I could endure it. I thought it was his only means of expressing his love. But in the end, my eyes were finally opened. His violence permeates everything. He is a bully and he beats up his girlfriends. Jeff’s problem is control. He doesn’t have it. His father is a bully. His mother, a quiet and unobtrusive woman. No wonder Jeff is like that. He sees what his father does to his mother and he thinks it’s the right way to treat women. Jeff is a misguided, arrogant, chauvinist pig. Just like his father. I expect him to get into much trouble in college. And now, I am so glad that I have broken up with him.
Mike and my dad are two of a kind. They have strength within them. They can change things if they want to. In fact, I have gone to them several times to ask for help. But just like those placed outside of hell, they are neutrals. They have this wait and see attitude. They would not take risks unless they saw something to their advantage. And what hurts me most is that they could have helped me during my troubled times. Mike knew all about Jeff’s violence (the extent of it) and he did nothing, said nothing to dissuade me from answering Jeff. In fact, he was the only person who witnessed how Jeff slammed me against the lockers and you know what he did? He just walked away. My dad...well, there’s another neutral for you. He hides from me and now that I have come, he doesn’t want to recognize me. He doesn’t want to give me what is mine. And yet, instead of doing the next most decent thing, like resign from his post, he stays on. And even though he sees how vast my problems have become, he just stands still...waiting perhaps for the earth to swallow me and to erase every trace of my existence so he can go back to his family once more with a clean conscience.
The eighth circle is complicated by the fact that it is filled with pouches. And those trapped here are guilty of minor fraud (at least in Dante’s version). Mrs. Rubio can actually belong to two pouches. Not only is she a false counselor, giving nothing but ludicrous advice, she is also a sower of discord. She likes creating intrigues. She loves putting me down. She has tried in vain to isolate me from the batch. However, the batch hates her more because she also plays her mind games on them. I wonder why she lasted this long as a guidance counselor. Isn’t there any rule against people like her?
Finally, there’s Coca. Now that I look at it, I had always known that she was stabbing me behind the back. But I always wanted to believe that she would be able to put the competition between us behind. That she would see that I meant no harm whenever I beat her. Just so happened that she’d always be second best. That all I wanted was to have good grades so that I can qualify for scholarships when I go to college. But she has taken it personally. I managed to get into her blog and I have read her entries filled with hatred for the “secondary” role she has had to play ever since I began my run. I...I have in mind to lie low next year. To quit the paper and the swimming team and let Coca handle my responsibility. I know how frustrating it must have been for her. But she has betrayed me big time. And I don’t even know in which ring of the ninth circle to put her. Probably, the ring where those who betray benefactors stay. In any case, she has a heart of ice. And the worst thing to ever happen to me this year was finding out that she had been feeding Jeff with so many twisted ideas, that she had been keeping a relationship with that mindless baboon (with apologies to baboons)...that this is her grand design to get back at me. I never thought that a person could be so vile and twisted within. What would she do next?
And there, the people who have made my life a living hell. Is there any doubt now about Nietzsche’s statement?
You can go to hell and find out.

They broke my heart. They ripped it out of my chest, threw it to the ground, and made the dogs eat it. And worse, I did not do a damn thing about it.
Jeff and Coca. Coca and Jeff.
How could they?
And...and I think now know who has been feeding the jabberwocky with details of my personal life. My best friend.
I hope they all burn in hell.

It took him quite a while, but eventually, it did, and he came back with a vengeance.
One thing you should know about Jeff. He’s not very bright. But when an idea finally sinks into his head, he just can’t get it off.
I should be crying. But I am not. The tears would not come. The tears would not even be there in the background waiting for the right moment, the right sappy song on my radio. In fact, I have never felt so free in my entire life. Well...I’m sad because Coca is siding with Jeff on this break-up. She was telling me earlier that I should give Jeff another chance. I have given him a lot and yet, he hasn’t changed. How many chances should I give him?
I have changed my number. Jeff has done nothing ever since our break-up but to call my phone and flood my inbox with messages of grief. At first, I was not amused. But when I refused to answer any of his messages, he started threatening me. Here are some of his messages (they are in order):
“Babe, sorry talaga...di na mauulit. Kaw kasi...sige na. Sorry na.”
“Luluhod pa ba ako sa lunes? Yun ba gusto mo? Sige. Gagawin ko.”
“Ano ba? Bat ba nagpapakaimportante ka? Sagutin mo ang phone!”
“Naman...pati si coca ba di mo papansinin?”
“Uy...tatawa na yan...nakuha mo ba yung flowers? Sige na. bati na tayo.”
“Hoy princesa! Kala mo ikaw lang ang babae sa mundo?”
“bahala ka! Wag kang hahabol-habol sa akin.”
“Wag mo nang ipakita pagmumukha mo sa akin!”
“May alam ako tungkol sa pamilya mo. Gusto mo, sabihin ko sa lahat ng tao?”

I know Coca told him about my dad. She’s the only one who could. (And I feel dumb after promising earlier to keep it a secret.) I bet she’s with Jeff right now, comforting his bruised ego. They actually deserve each other. Did she really think I was blind to their relationship? They had been dating ever since November. But no. I kept quiet all this time because I was trying to find a solution. I mean, I understand the attraction between them. Coca can be feisty when she wants to. And Jeff has always had this inclination towards feisty girls. He even said once that I should learn to fight back. I know I have to confront Coca about this. But I’m scared of losing her. She’s my best friend. And that remains true until this day. That’s why her betrayal hurts me more than my break-up with Jeff. I always thought she’d be at my side. We’ve been through so many trials....and now this...
And you my constant companion these days, the repository of my thoughts and feelings and experiences...one day...one day someone will unravel my life by stumbling upon this blog...and see how much I have suffered.
Much as I would like to continue my ranting...an essay for dad is due tomorrow. Funny, we are now discussing Dante’s “Inferno.” And now, I can place all these people who have made my life so miserable...I can place them in hell.
Don’t worry my beloved blog...you’ll have a copy of it.

I broke up with Jeff today. I don’t want to write about it.
Just that, he took it badly.
And he bruised me once more. For the last time.

Jeff hit me again. And frankly, I’m getting tired of it.
I know, I know. I should have broken up with him months before when he first hit me. But I kept believing that I could change him. That in time, he will realize the error of his ways. He always had a way of showing contrition after hitting me. That was perhaps one of the things I often anticipated after our short break-ups. I remember the first time he hit me and I left and did not answer his calls or text messages. He spent three nights waiting from across my house. Despite the rain. Despite the hunger. Despite the cold. On the third night, just before ten in the evening, I finally went out and embraced him. His skin was cold and clammy and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. He had kept this vigil just to show me that he was sorry for hurting me and that he would never do it again.
I believed him then.
But I think, I think he couldn’t top that anymore. Sure the roses and chocolates that came after were nice but he has never done anything that even approximates those three rainy nights.
Now...I think I’ve been taken for a fool.
Before, after he hit me, he used to flood me with calls and text messages and gifts just to show his regret. But now, nothing. He seems to believe that hurting people physically in a relationship is an ordinary thing. Coca has been prodding me to drop Jeff. And I may yet, take that option. I’ll let him do the next move and I’ll give him one last chance. If ever he hits me again, it’ll be the end.
It’s dumb I know. I really am dumb. I’ve been doing his important assignments for most of this school year now. I’ve done so many things for him and yet...now that I finally found time to look at things, he hasn’t actually done anything for me. Relationships should be a two-way street. But ours...I don’t know anymore.

I really don’t know how to feel. Dad showed up at home today. Even mom was stunned out of her usual self. And he broke down and cried in our living room. He kept saying that his conscience couldn’t take it anymore. That everytime he saw me, he felt nothing but guilt. Mom and I sat across him. All the while, while I was holding back tears, Mom had this dazed, faraway look. She kept looking at me and at dad. I...I have never seen a man cry before. And it’s a little unnerving. Especially seeing this terror of a teacher doing so in front of you. Many things were resolved this day. Dad said he would own up to me when I graduate and go to college. He would then resign from his teaching post and even though he and mom wouldn’t reunite once more, he would make sure that I would be taken care of. He...dad’s married to someone else. I know now. He even has a son (three years older than I am and a daughter (eight years of age). When I first went to his office, I already noticed it. She looks like me. There can be no denying that we are sisters. Someday, I want to meet her.
Anyway, I am not sure what was going through mom’s mind during dad’s breakdown. Her eyes were blank. When dad told her he was going, she merely nodded so it was I who had to see dad to the door. And just before he left, he hugged me. And I cried once more. I mean, I have been hugged before. But with your father, it’s different. It’s more secure and more comfortable than any of Jeff’s hugs (and he is a great hugger!). With dad, it felt as if the world, despite being such a dangerous place, is not that bad at all. I cried once more before he left.
When I returned to the living room, mom was no longer there.

Things seemed to have cooled down. At home and in school. Mom and I don’t talk that much but we both need to take a break from each other.
Mr. Manuel has been informed of the petition we filed against him. His mouth was frothing throughout Chemistry class. He gave us a super hard exam. But while the rest of my classmates groaned, I cheered inside. He is digging his own grave. He has just given us one more reason to have him kicked out. He surely is incompetent. I wonder why the school allowed him to stay this long. But perhaps, just like how the students are perceived by others, Mr. Manuel is a lost cause. I don’t think he’d even make it outside what with his limited methods of teaching.
Met Mike along the corridors today, he was shaking his head. In fact, just before Coca and I submitted the letter he was still trying to dissuade us from doing it. He kept saying that we had to give Mr. Manuel one more chance. He tried to talk to Coca and me today but Jeff showed up and Mike immediately excused himself. Those two were good friends when the year started but now, I am no longer sure.

This is perhaps the strangest day in my life. And to think that I have to be my dad’s student. And his is my first class. He went about the usual routine. Terrorizing us. But I don’t feel any terror. I never did, anyway. All I did today was look him in the face. And yes, perhaps now because I am more aware of it, I see our resemblance. How could others not have seen it before? Guess we are indeed all blind until reason comes to illuminate our minds. It’s a strange feeling. Does he know that I am his daughter? He has to. But how does he do it? How does he ignore me? I was in his advisory class when I was a freshman. How could he have survived that year being around me with the knowledge that I was his daughter? Believe it or not, I am not mad at him. I...I actually feel something of a fascination with the situation. Life surely has not dealt me a winning hand. But...but I think I have managed to do well despite these things. These problems. So, perhaps, for now, all I have to do is wait and see. Dad will eventually have to own up. He will eventually have to recognize me for what I have always been – his own flesh and blood.

The Girl Who Loves Butterflies


I came across a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow today. I read it repeatedly until I knew one of its verses by heart. Not satisfied, I photocopied the entire poem. But here, below, is the verse which struck me the most. This made an impact on me. Call me corny or sappy. But this is the verse I would want as my epitaph:

There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

- “My Lost Youth”

Indeed, I have grown too fast these past few months. Not in the physical sense, but emotionally and psychologically. I don’t think I can take too much growth in such a short span of time. And just when I thought I had enough problems to face; just when I believed that life could begin smiling back on me; it just got complicated today.
I finally discovered who my dad is. Mom was having one of her mood swings again and we ended up fighting. And...and then, she blurted out my dad’s name. And the expression on her face told me everything. It told me that she realized that she had made a mistake. She immediately accosted me and told me not to tell anyone and then she embraced me so hard and cried on my shoulder. I cried with her. But now, now, I am confused. How could he have endured being around me for three years and not even showing a shred of affection? How could he have endured it? Was it his pride that kept him from acknowledging me? From declaring to the world that I was his daughter? Of course, I understand his situation. I know that things are already complicated as they are. But now, with this knowledge I doubt I will be able to face him again. And he’s my English teacher for crying out loud!
Mom was adamant. She wants me to keep my mouth shut and I promised to do so. And no one, not even Coca will know. But the problem would have to be Mrs. Rubio. How much does she know of my mother’s past? I am more scared for him than I am for me. He could lose his job. He would forever be disgraced if I come out and declare to the world that I am his daughter. Mom says that he knows and he almost left the school when he learned that I was going to study there. I don’t know. I don’t know what to feel towards him. I don’t know why he abandoned us. Mom wouldn’t say anything. She just shook her head when I asked her and when Mom is in that state, no amount of cooing or badgering would get her to open her mouth. So...I guess I’ll just have to bear with this thing until I figure out the best way to go about it. But at the very least, one of the great mysteries in my life has been solved.
And I feel tired. I’ve been crying ever since Mom revealed my father’s name. This is what it feels to be old. To be sapped of strength both inside and outside. To be lost. To feel abandoned. Not to mention my problems with Jeff and Mr. Manuel and Mrs. Rubio. But...I will find a way out of this. I will arrive somewhere. I have to. And much as I would like to go on and pour my heart out, the body is weak. Tomorrow, or some other day, I will continue pouring my feelings out. I will continue trying to sort out myself. Trying to make sense of my now chaotic world. I will do all of these and more tomorrow. But for now...but for now, I must rest.

i...i don't know why i am doing this. i am after all not the most private of persons. but...but i'm keeping this blog because it leaves an indelible trace of my existence. many discoveries these recent months have stunned me out of what many believe is a well-charmed existence. you...you who have managed to get into my private world...perhaps...one day...you will understand.