Actions vs. Words
How many years has it been since I opened up my feelings to someone? Someone who isn't a part of my world at all.
Someone who just passes by. Someone who wasn't meant to be in my life.
19 years...and counting.
I remember when I was still 7 and my two younger sisters were tended by our househelpers with their hair, their clothes, their appearance. While I stopped at the stairs, holding the button hemmed at the back of my neck, wanting to seek for help. A simple task. That was the first time I learned to do things on my own.
While my younger siblings enjoyed much of their freedom in their toddler and childhood years, mine wasn't a lovely story to hear. Every night, I'd cry myself to sleep. Silently. All of us slept in the same room before. I'd hear my mother talk to my father through the phone, saying "She's really damned. (Maldita kaayo siya, do.)" Why? Every single day, I fight with my siblings. I end up being the villain. Back then, I'd grab a piece of paper and write down "I hate her. I wish Daddy (my father's father) was here." Yes, I was my grandfather's girl. And then later on, my mother would go out of the room and read what I wrote and feel more disappointed in me.
Back then, I thought that doing my best in school would make my parents feel happy and proud of me. I'd read lots of books and finish them. (I cheated most of the time as I only read Math-related books and some with lots of pictures in it.) Every end of the quarter, I'd stand on stage receiving my certificates and medals for them.
Only did I realize, they were all for nothing. Unconsciously, they taught me that people notice every single flaw planted in you, but never celebrate your achievements. This was the start of the silent me.
High school came and I gained friends. I had a bestfriend who was stuck with me for four years. And I don't remember us sharing our feelings. Maybe, just fangirling and the things about Japan. But feelings? Nah.
But here's the thing.
I speak out, someone clashes.
I express with my actions, someone disagrees.
What choice do I have left?
I speak out, no one listens.
I express with my actions, no one notices.
What am I supposed to do?
I'm afraid to express myself now. For I feel that words, little they may be, are knives of all sizes.
My soft-spokenness is a shame. My excitedness is a weird thing.
I do not move exactly how I want to anymore.
Everyone's feelings becomes a top priority. Mine, second.
I feel so caged. Unnoticed. Uncared for. Played with. Non-existent.
I fear that people would take me for granted.
Whenever I speak, no matter what my emotions are, my words aren't taken seriously. They notice the pitch of my voice instead.
I tried to become a better human. I guess being an alien was a better choice.
Do you know why I dislike people? Because they are two-faced.
I dislike myself too, for I am a person.
One moment, they like you. The second moment, they bite you. At the back.
If they could do mean stuff to their so-called friends. How much more could they do the same things to you.
And I fear that.
Nothing is worth trusting anymore.
They say Actions are louder than words.
But why is it that when someone leaves us for good, we regret to death that we didn't tell them I love you at the time when we were still connected to them physically. We regret not clearing up the past, leaving us burdened and worried and remorseful.
We regret not expressing our inner thoughts.
But.
At the end of the day, I wish for a person to take my hand and take me to the place where everything is different. Like a parallel world. A world where you are never out of place. Never alone. Never non-existent.
I wish for someone to change my mindset; actions are louder than words.
That when they say "I love you." and they really mean it, in less than a second, I'd believe it. In their words. In their sincerity.
That when they say "I'm here.", they aren't only there for you for a day, but for a lifetime.
And I would definitely wait for that day to come.
Someone who just passes by. Someone who wasn't meant to be in my life.
19 years...and counting.
I remember when I was still 7 and my two younger sisters were tended by our househelpers with their hair, their clothes, their appearance. While I stopped at the stairs, holding the button hemmed at the back of my neck, wanting to seek for help. A simple task. That was the first time I learned to do things on my own.
While my younger siblings enjoyed much of their freedom in their toddler and childhood years, mine wasn't a lovely story to hear. Every night, I'd cry myself to sleep. Silently. All of us slept in the same room before. I'd hear my mother talk to my father through the phone, saying "She's really damned. (Maldita kaayo siya, do.)" Why? Every single day, I fight with my siblings. I end up being the villain. Back then, I'd grab a piece of paper and write down "I hate her. I wish Daddy (my father's father) was here." Yes, I was my grandfather's girl. And then later on, my mother would go out of the room and read what I wrote and feel more disappointed in me.
Back then, I thought that doing my best in school would make my parents feel happy and proud of me. I'd read lots of books and finish them. (I cheated most of the time as I only read Math-related books and some with lots of pictures in it.) Every end of the quarter, I'd stand on stage receiving my certificates and medals for them.
Only did I realize, they were all for nothing. Unconsciously, they taught me that people notice every single flaw planted in you, but never celebrate your achievements. This was the start of the silent me.
High school came and I gained friends. I had a bestfriend who was stuck with me for four years. And I don't remember us sharing our feelings. Maybe, just fangirling and the things about Japan. But feelings? Nah.
But here's the thing.
I speak out, someone clashes.
I express with my actions, someone disagrees.
What choice do I have left?
I speak out, no one listens.
I express with my actions, no one notices.
What am I supposed to do?
I'm afraid to express myself now. For I feel that words, little they may be, are knives of all sizes.
My soft-spokenness is a shame. My excitedness is a weird thing.
I do not move exactly how I want to anymore.
Everyone's feelings becomes a top priority. Mine, second.
I feel so caged. Unnoticed. Uncared for. Played with. Non-existent.
I fear that people would take me for granted.
Whenever I speak, no matter what my emotions are, my words aren't taken seriously. They notice the pitch of my voice instead.
I tried to become a better human. I guess being an alien was a better choice.
Do you know why I dislike people? Because they are two-faced.
I dislike myself too, for I am a person.
One moment, they like you. The second moment, they bite you. At the back.
If they could do mean stuff to their so-called friends. How much more could they do the same things to you.
And I fear that.
Nothing is worth trusting anymore.
They say Actions are louder than words.
But why is it that when someone leaves us for good, we regret to death that we didn't tell them I love you at the time when we were still connected to them physically. We regret not clearing up the past, leaving us burdened and worried and remorseful.
We regret not expressing our inner thoughts.
But.
At the end of the day, I wish for a person to take my hand and take me to the place where everything is different. Like a parallel world. A world where you are never out of place. Never alone. Never non-existent.
I wish for someone to change my mindset; actions are louder than words.
That when they say "I love you." and they really mean it, in less than a second, I'd believe it. In their words. In their sincerity.
That when they say "I'm here.", they aren't only there for you for a day, but for a lifetime.
And I would definitely wait for that day to come.