I would have appreciated it more if my feelings was left out. I said I’d let go, maybe not sooner than wanted but eventually, I will. Eventually, everything will make sense. Eventually, sense will come to me and I’d wake up from this illusion of forever.

Eventually, I’d have wants. Eventually, I’d have needs. Eventually, I want this wants and needs to be met. Eventually, I’ll have expectations. Eventually, I’ll get tired. Eventually, my brain will rule over my heart and will say enough is enough.

All I ever wanted was time. Because eventually, for me, love is never enough. I’m too cynical for that. All I ever wanted was that I’ll be given eventually.

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The Passing of Life.

❝ Sometimes you ask for a child’s innocence, and be granted oblivion when the world is harsh and cruel, but reality would seeped in and the thing you wish for the most is just like a fantasy from a fairy tale. ❞

There’s just something in hospitals that depresses me so I would always stay away from it as much as possible. There’s just that feeling of melancholy and despair that hangs in the air and if I get exposed to it, it will get under my skin and affect me. It’s just that the mere thought of it was something to be dreaded about.

When I was in my secondary years in school, I hated it when people asked me what course I would take when I get to college. And they’re always like, “Why not Nursing?”. I can’t blame them though. Nurses were so in demand in US at that time that they expected everyone would just jump in the wagon because of the thought of dollars. They never would understand and I really didn’t want to tell them a novella about why I’ve chosen my preferred field. I was always just like, “I’m allergic to chemical smell.” Which was true enough but it get the conversation to an end.

When I was in college though, a close friend of mine would suffer something that we had to rush her to the ER. And it got to the point that it happens at least once a year that it just became an habitual yearly thing, different reasons though. We then would urge her to admit herself, myself acting as a guardian so we could process the papers although she was older than me but being the distress good friend that I am that we could get the papers processed until we get the room, so that we could sleep at a private room, watch cable channels and experience the AC overnight. Such good friend that we are.

Kidding aside, that experience actually brought me to not hate hospitals and did my intern at one on their administrative building. It was like a child’s play, and it made me sympathetic but detached in hospital matters including the whole melancholy and sorrow thing that I usually associate it with.

But life plays as a game and some certain events had led me back to associate hospitals in such a way, forgetting the fun I had with it. I never thought I’d sleep in one again, not as a patient, but a companion to one. Funny thing is, this is what have been going through my mind during my stay.

Death, for me means an escape to life. Either it may be of old age, or sickness, or something tragic. And I had experiences of everything, seeing how life goes out from a body and experiencing that surreal feeling that another angel have joined the heavens.


P.S. I have forgotten I have this written in my drafts and never got to publish. That last time I stayed in a hospital, these were my thoughts. That morning following the night I stayed, my grandfather held his last breath. His will and mind was strong, but his body was weak and couldn’t handle the fight he is fighting. All I felt at that moment was relief. I was maybe stoic and emotionless, because I really didn’t know how to react, but I feel relieved because he didn’t have to feel pain anymore and he had made peace that the fight was just over. He didn’t lose. He won because he was at ease, and accepted that it was already his time to leave earth.

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Miss Independent

Processed with VSCOWhat does being Miss Independent mean?

Is it being strong? Is it being able to depend on no one but yourself? Is it being self-sufficient? Or is it being able to not need anyone?

I’ve read a lot of fiction books with different culture in different country, and when it’s contemporary, the heroine is usually an independent strong woman. I often wondered about this but I guess men usually are attracted to this kind of women. Or that the female author just wanted to project someone she wants to be. Or the male author wanted to project his ideal woman. And these are all completely hypothetical, there is that world we secretly wish that are being ruled by women.

But, one thing that is actually the same all over, across culture and beyond boundaries, is that whenever a female is projected being Miss Independent, they’re always on the offensive. Someone not needing help and have the world on their shoulders. They’re the responsible, worrier and crazy kind of person.

I mean, women are crazy and they are species that cannot be explained but I often wonder, if you’re independent, why are you not allowed to lean on someone else?

I’m independent, but whenever I’m carrying a lot of things and there’s a man within the group, or I’m with, I usually thrust my things and let them carry it. I mean, does being independent have to be like you can’t do that? Is there a rule book or something I might have missed or don’t know about?

Or paying for food. If someone does something for you, or buy you food, why do you have the need to reciprocate? Why does it feel like you have to pay the kindness that was being done to you? I’m probably shameless because I’m just thankful when someone do stuff for me, and I don’t really feel the need to pay that kindness to feel even. I think offering should be like from within and not because you feel the need to. But really, does being independent prohibits you to just accept it? Like you have the weight on your shoulders and you feel a burden because someone have done some kindness on you and you feel like it demean your being independent so you just have to act sully or ungrateful just so you can prove that you are independent?

This may actually more of a rant of my current read, but looking back, this is always how it is with most heroines I’ve met. And I’m just shouting bitches and just want to slap them.

Because seriously! I think of you know you’re independent, leaning for others or asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness or being dependent. It just means you’re comfortable with yourself to accept that there are things you can’t do on your own and that needing help or someone doesn’t mean you’re not independent anymore. But I guess, you actually have to reach that level of self-actualization for you to be able to just appreciate the kindness, the help being offered, or random free food thrown in your way. Ah, see Maslow’s hierarchy of needs for that to happen.

Are you a Miss Independent?


Written: April 17, 2017

P.S. Book current read at that moment did have a low rating. 😦

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