two-way mirror

I hear a mixture of noise constantly but I choose not to listen.

I shut away all sound and reason.

I listened to my heartbeat to decipher my heart’s desire.

I faced the mirror looking at a complete stranger.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I cried a teardrop and got lost in my nightmare.

————————————-

I choose not to tell my parents of what I am going through right now.

Yes, I am stubborn and a person with a major communication problem not only with respect to others but also myself. I am close with my parents, but they are barely aware of my true whereabouts, I just assure them I am safe and manage my self well when they aren’t around. This is close enough to make them believe I am A-ok. But I guess I can’t hide everything, I can’t deprive them of the obvious - I am going through a difficult time. This is not the first time. But eversince I cannot anymore remember when, they never urged me nor any of my siblings to share our life’s personal conundrums, they respect our own space, they don’t pry. Communication is our best and worst personality trait, it runs in the blood.

Everyone seems to be stubborn and secretive. We co-exist peacefully that way. But we do have our own language in the house, food, tv, politics, gossip, school, friends, work & family. Yes, we don’t talk about love. We show affection through hugs, jokes, tricks, & kisses, and yes, no outright ‘i love you’s”. Although everyone seems to be updated with school-standing, work status, and love relationships. We spare each one the details of the thoughts & feelings behind every success, failure, happiness, stress and heartaches. We choose not to put into words what seems to be already apparent, as long as we have each other. That’s why I choose to go home every night, even late night, with the long travel and danger of commuting. Seeing them just there hanging around the house, eating bread as dessert, all speaking loudly at each other, snoring loudly, sleeptalking and funny dancing with or without the music playing.

I have lived in the City since birth. My dad is an ECE undergraduate who worked freelance until I got into college when he decided to put up his own auto service shop. We never had savings. We manage to survive with whatever we have. But education for him is priceless thus he enrolled us in a Chinese private school since nursery. As long as he can provide for us, we need not worry about money. But then the economic crisis hit us big time. That’s why my law school was out of the picture right after I graduated from college. My mom has always been good in sales, thus, she can take care of our daily needs at home. We can manage with weekly visits with our relatives and annual trips in the province of Batangas & Oriental Mindoro to visit our calamansi trees which we had to give up and sell eventually last 2007 when our house caught fire. The transition of changes in our lifestyle has never been a major problem, we don’t live a luxurious life anyhow.

There is no such thing as a perfect family, mine is not even close to an exception. We fight over petty stuff like left-over food, dishwashing, tv, phone and ofcourse bathroom use. But I’ll never trade them for anything less. I like going home to them everyday, problematic yet relieved that I still have my home… my family to come home to. I am contented with that but then ofcourse I can’t help the constant hugs & kisses around the house, it’s contagious I say you. My dad to this date still calls me dalapotpot as he makes me sit on his lap. I am a self-confessed daddy’s girl. 

No matter how I try to shield them from information, it’s my way of protecting them, like how they protect me from the entire neighborhood. Everybody in the neighborhood knows me by name and face and I know I am safe whatever time I come home. I don’t seem to know everyone and I practically don’t talk nor smile at anyone. Except my not so distant relatives of course. I even refused to be a muse a lot of times in the barangay league. I have been a topic once in a while of their gossips but I am untouchable. I love our neighborhood that way. My dad grew up there. The family’s well respected, admired and ofcourse envied at some point. It’s not an affluent neighborhood. We do have squatters around and drug users but no violence so far. My parents brought us up well, none of us ever had a criminal record, well I guess none so far yet.

What’s the point with all this babbling? Well, I am trying to convince my self in not telling my parents my problem is the best decision. Considering my close friends seem to disagree unanimously, I just have to tell my self I am not changing my mind.

If you feel like no one cares about you

Think again

Look in the mirror

Because the person you see needs you more than anyone else

 - anonymous