Confessions of a Shameful Man
After so many years, I've finally mustered the courage to come clean with something I promised myself that I would never reveal to ANYONE. But the burden had become too great for me to carry a secret to the grave.
Before I mention anything in this blog entry, I must say that I am completely sorry for all the deceptions that I've fed you (my friends) about everything in my life, for all the years you've known me.
I understand that nothing past the apology will ever make you trust me again (much less be my friend), but I genuinely ask for your forgiveness. It is the only way that I can live with myself, and go on with my life. It is something that had been eating away inside for the LONGEST time.
Most people have dirty secrets that they'd be too embarassed to reveal, but mine is such a great burden to bear that I can no longer face myself in the mirror.
I am just going to cut right to the chase, as there is really no easy way to say this, but here it goes:
My life, as you all had known it, had been a complete lie.
I am a Fraud. A Sham. An Impostor.
Welcome to the real me. My real name is Juan Diego De La Cruz. I was born in the Philippines, the son of a humble filipina street vendor, and a good-for-nothing, abusive, uneducated drunkard.
Ever since birth, I have been a consummate failure. In kindergarten, I've already gotten into my first fight, smashing my rival's head into a desk for blowing pencil dust into my face.
At age 10, I quickly fell into the wrong crowd. I began following and idolizing older teenagers who'd become eventual inductees to the Kuratong Baleleng Gang, the biggest crime syndicate in the Philippines. My life back then, as I knew it, was filled with violence, crime, and drugs. I had shot my first 9mm gun on my 11th birthday. I've done numerous substances, from sniffing generic adhesives, to trying small amounts of Shabu (filipino word for "coccaine"). It was Life. It was Happiness. It was Home.
My life had been steadily going down the drain... until HE came. His name is Dr. Dennis Quiba.
I had been shot by a rival gang member on the leg, as me and fellow teenagers were trying to steal and carjack his Jeepney. My friends...NO... my FAMILY... just left me in the dust, bleeding...crying...cursing... and dying. I've never felt so much pain in my life. Not just on my leg, but in my heart, as well.
The time was probably close to 6:30 P.M. I was about to pass out into unconsciousness... most definitely from shock. Until a black Mercedes-Benz pulls over, and stops. Out comes my hero... Dr. Dennis Quiba, to try and save my life.
At first, I resisted. With my "family" leaving me behind, I no longer had a purpose in life. I wanted to die.
But at the same time, I was in such tremendous pain. The "tough guy" in me slowly succumbed. Reluctantly, I caved to the doctor's caring arms.
Dr. Dennis Quiba was already coming home from work at the time, but he rushed me back to his work (De Los Santos Medical Hospital) like I was his own son in critical danger. My mother had always been a God-fearing woman, but I never did understand the ways of the Church. But for the first time in my life, I've encountered a real life Good Samaritan.
The good doctor nursed me back to health. He brought me back to life, in more ways than one.
Asked by the good doctor about who my family was, I simply said, "No one". I didn't even mention the name of my mother, who is probably the ONLY benevolent person left in my life. He looked deep into my eyes, and he believed me. He took me into his house. He gave me clothes to wear, and provided me food to eat. He adopted me. He took care of me like I was his own son.
From that day forward, I've never seen my mom, my dad, or my "family" ever again. A new chapter of my life was about to begin.
Dr. Dennis was an amazing human being. He was a child prodigy, a doctor at a young age of 24 years old! He was a heart surgeon by profession, and yet, he was an Everything Man. I can't possibly count the many things that this man was GOOD at... perhaps I've only seen the surface of it. He was an amazing musician...an excellent orator...a captivating philosopher... a master chess strategist... an engaging psychiatrist... an imaginative writer. He is, deservingly so, a genius in his own right.
Some people even say he is the reincarnation of the late great Jose Rizal, the Philippines' greatest pride...the Philippines' favorite son.
He was everything I ever could hope for in a father figure. THE perfect mentor. And yet, he acted like he was a brother I've never had. Not once did he ever act as my superior, at all. He set my life straight through respect and good example.
But Dr. Dennis wasn't without a flaw. Despite being a champion of a human being, he had a weakness. A kryptonite, so to speak. His one single vice in life is alcoholism. Ironically speaking, the two "fathers" in my life shared the same curse.
3 years later, Dr. Dennis had taken me with him overseas, to the United States of America. He continued to raise me like I was his own son. He put me through a private school, and provided me a good education. It was also in this country where he finally met the love of his life, an aspiring supermodel named "Rhea". It didn't take long until he finally proposed to her, and the two eventually got married. And of course, she even gave him a son.
Things were all of a sudden happening too fast. And Dr. Dennis... my friend, my brother, my father... was slowly becoming distant. I wouldn't blame him. After all, he has a new life now, in a new place, in a new home, with a new family. But it came at the cost of ME. I wasn't about to lose MY "family" all over again.
And then... one eventful night...
It was Dr. Dennis' birthday celebration, at his own lush, grandiose mansion. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was raining hard that day, but nothing was going to stop him from carrying on with the festivities. I myself wasn't in the mood for celebration. I was in a depressive state, matched only by the gloomy weather of the day. Following in Dr. Dennis' footsteps, I consumed an exorbitant of alcohol... to put myself into the delusion that "everything will be alright".
I confined myself inside my room, foolishly hoping that no one would notice that I was gone. Up until SHE came...
There was Rhea. Beautiful as she's always been. She was wearing a beautiful red dress that night. But what kind of a man admires the dress on a lovely girl? I swear to my Lord and Savior... she was Aphrodite personified. Staring into her eyes was like glaring into a star-lit night. I was mystified...lost...captivated. And her lips: so succulent, so moist, so tender. Somehow, some way, I knew I had to kiss them.
Why did she come into my room? She knew something was wrong. Out of ALL people, it was SHE who noticed first. She had to be the gentle soul to take the burden off my shoulders. As her words softly calmed me down, tears started to fall down from my eyes. She gave me a hug, and held me close... it was "the right thing to do".
And then, it happened.
I kissed her. Or perhaps...she kissed me? It didn't matter. My sorrowful passion slowly turned into lustful desire. She pulled me in closer, as I grabbed her ample bosom. She took my clothes off, and she urged me to rip off hers... it was "the right thing to do".
We made sweet love, to the soothing, tranquil sounds of the falling raindrops.
But of course, the Man of the Hour, Dr. Dennis, wondered where his spouse had gone. The night can't go on without her by his side! He looked everywhere, but to no avail. He finally checked the one place where wouldn't fancy checking in the first place: the confines of my very own bedroom.
And there we were. Caught in a forbidden act of "love".
Naturally, Dr. Dennis was overwhelmed with furious rage, magnified only by the alcohol in his bloodstream. He had every right to feel that way, and so, he delivered the first strike: a swift punch to my right eyesocket. But for some reason, STUPID me decided to retaliate back. I punched him back, breaking his nose. Betrayed and dejected, Dr. Dennis stood up, and left the premises. Perhaps my jarring fist knocked a small dose of civility back into his senses. He drove off to God Knows Where...probably wondering about "where he had gone wrong".
Things were never really the same after that night. Dr. Dennis could've easily kicked me out for good, and left me to die. The same way he had found me on the streets YEARS AGO. But my "Savior" didn't have it in him to be completely heartless. As a final act of compassion, he put me up for adoption. I was 17 at the time. He made sure that another family would take care of me the SAME way he had done. But Dr. Dennis decided that it wasn't going to be him anymore...
And so, I've lost him. I've lost my "family" all over again. I was forced to start anew, in some sick, self-fulfilling prophecy. I was afraid to lose him, and with an ironic twist of Fate, I actually did.
But I've never forgotten the Man that is Dr. Dennis Quiba. Even in his absence, he lives on in my heart... till this very day. So much, in fact, that I've vicariously lived my life through him. There were many things about Dr. Dennis that I wished were a part of me. And then, there were times when I wished that my life was just LIKE Dr. Dennis Quiba's. Over the years, perhaps I've even developed this schizophrenia-like delusion that I *AM* Dennis Quiba.
It is the Lie of a Life that you've all come to know, but it's not really me. Rather, they are mere snippets of the excellence and virtue of a great man. Can you really blame me? Think about it: There is a Dr. Dennis Quiba in each and every single one of us... waiting to be unleashed for the betterment of ourselves, AND of others.
But the one thing that I want you all to understand is that despite everything I've revealed, I am only human... a human who makes mistakes... a human just like YOU. After all, anyone can be a Fool... even on the month of April.
Thanks for Listening. My soul is finally free.
Signed:
Juan Diego De La Cruz