Catharsis of a living ghost

I was riding the MRT one night and I smelled the scent you used to wear. It brought back some distant memories of you sleeping while we were on the way home. Your head is resting peacefully on my shoulder and my hand is holding yours.

I remembered the way you drooled on the sleeves of my shirt while you were sleeping; and how you pinched my sides when I teased you about it when you woke up; and how I pretended to be hurt when it actually just tickled me.

I remembered the same mighty feeling of invulnerability when you were with me. I remembered how we planned our ‘you-and-me-against-the-world’ story.

I remembered it just like how I wanted to remember that scene. I remembered how much I wanted that moment to last forever… and its killing me.

I’ve been thinking of leaving home since I was in college. I’ve always wondered how it would feel like to live in a place without anybody from my family. I’m thinking that if I didn’t grow up in my home, I’d be someone different by now. The idea of co-existing with strangers sounded more like a challenge to me.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough financial resources back in my college days so I didn’t have a choice but to commute 2 hours just to get to school and 2 hours to get back home. Renting an apartment sounded ludicrous to my parents, and checking in a boarding house was too expensive. So the thought of leaving home was immediately crossed out from my mind.

Then, after I graduated and I started working, the thought struck me again. Since I’m earning on my own and my work requires me to get out of the house at ungodly hours, I once again played with the idea of getting my own place. But again, some other things got in the way so the plans got scrapped out once more.

However, just recently, I signed up with my officemates to live in a somewhat studio-type room for rent. It happened quite fast, in my opinion. I think about two weeks ago, they asked me if I wanted to rent a place near the office and I simply said yes. After a week had passed, I didn’t get a word from them and I thought they weren’t serious and all. Then two days ago, they asked me to join them so I can see the place that they found. When I saw the room, I said ok. Then we paid the first month deposit, and now we’re about to live there starting November 10 or 15.

I was naturally stoked at the idea of living out on my own. At last, I said to myself, I am free. I don’t have to waste 2 hours travelling to and from work. No more awkward silences during meals with the family. I don’t have to be reminded by my Dad that I’m wasting my life away with my loser-type work. I don’t have to listen to them compare me to other people and how I always fell short of their expectations. I don’t have to put up with my youngest sister, who was probably a pig in her past life. I don’t have to go home and find my Mom rummaging through my things because she thinks I’m some maniac or psycho or something.

I’m having a hard time sleeping because I keep thinking what I should take with me and what I should buy since I’ll be living on my own now. And then, a thought I was afraid to think of started to bother me — I’m leaving.

I’m leaving my home. This is one of those monumental stages in life. Just like how a bird flies away from his nest and all that crap.

I’m leaving my family. However cold my family may seem (well, to me at least), they’re still my family and I was born and raised in this home. The home I always look forward to when I was at school or when I’m at work or wherever I go.

This is my sanctuary. I grew up and spent 25 years of my sheltered life in this house. This house witnessed most of the ‘firsts’ of my life. The first time I talked, walked, wrote, read, and a lot of other firsts I couldn’t enumerate. My roots are buried deep in this house.  I have fond memories of playing in our backyard and celebrating life in this piece of land. There is no other place in the world I could think of going to when I’m sad or angry. Nowhere can I find the same level of comfort than within the walls of this house.I can be myself here. And whenever I feel that the world has once again conspired against me, this is one place I can count on to give me that fighting spirit I desperately need.

As I am thinking about all of this, I am irritated by this salty colorless liquid flowing out from my eyes and wetting my cheeks. Writing about this even produces some sort of problem with my vision because my eyes start to become blurry all of a sudden.

I find it hard to believe that I am moving on with my life. It’s finally time to leave the people I grew up with.

I don’t hate the people I live with in this house. In fact, I will definitely miss them. I haven’t broken the news to them yet. I wouldn’t want this to be a big deal for them even though this is a big deal for me. I hope they wouldn’t mind me leaving and I hope they wouldn’t think that I am leaving because I hate them. Because its actually the opposite. You see, there are now only 4 of us in this maid-less house. The maid went on vacation and I’m not really sure if she’s coming back. Mom is doing her best with the house chores even if she’s not really into that. She’s more of a career woman and she doesn’t like doing the chores. When she’s home, I often find her gardening or doing some artsy stuff that she learned from a home economics book or a seminar of some sort. And I know she’s trying her best to go home early just so she can cook my dinner before I leave the house for work. Dad, in his spare time which is usually Sunday morning, would find things to fix in the house like a hole in the roof or a clogged pipe. Sometimes, I ask him to ride the van with me so I can learn to drive which is really nice of him (and brave, if I may add. It takes a lot of courage to be my passenger). His patience is something I wish I inherited. My youngest sister’s mostly out of the house the past few days because she’s a working student. She’s also about to graduate soon.

So most of the time, I’m all alone throughout the entire day which is not really bad because all I do is sleep at daytime so I can work at night. It gets freaking lonely sometimes, but waking up at dusk and being all alone in this house is something I’ve learned to live with.

What I’m really afraid of, is leaving just the three of them in the house. I’ve gotten used to the idea that I’m the man of the house when Dad’s not around especially with me being the only son and all that. I can’t help but feel that I’m betraying them.

Oh well, enough with the drama. Let’s just get on with the show.

I’m now starting to have second thoughts about leaving but I know that I need to do this. I need to learn to live on my own. I can’t bear to live like a spoiled piece of shit forever. It’s time to get out of my comfort zone. So help me God.

It’s been more than a week now. I still have another week and a half to waste. Staying at home was not my idea of a vacation. But, nevertheless, it’s still a welcome break for me.

I prayed for a break and it was given. I just didn’t think that it would come with strings attached. I’m on a break because I’m sick. Don’t worry; it’s not a sexually transmitted disease or anything of that sort (? I think so. ? OMG. I hope so. LOL). Can’t really tell you what it is. Let’s just say that my smoking days are over. The medication also requires that I stop drinking liquor while taking the meds. My liver might not be able to handle everything all at once. *sigh* Oh boy. *sigh* we won’t be seeing Mr. Happy for a long time. So much for Oktoberfest. *sigh*

Funny that I remember this conversation with a co-worker and friend, May, several months ago. After learning that I inherited my smoking habits from my ex, she asked why I still continue smoking despite the fact that we’ve split up. “I guess I can’t find a reason to quit yet”, was my reply. Well, now I have one freaking reason to quit. And it’s written clearly on paper and showing prominently on the x-rays (at least that’s what the pulmonologists that I’ve spoken to have concluded). I was wishing that I’d quit for a different reason other than this.

In the back of my mind, I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before my lifestyle catches up with my health. I need to be conscious of my health now. My old battle cry –stay awake, stay drunk, keep smoking, have fun- doesn’t suit me very well now. Changes, sadly, would have to be done. I find it quite ironic that things always have to turn up badly just when I’m enjoying my life. Oh well, life was unfair to begin with.

My vacation is pretty boring. To amuse myself, I bought some books, bought pirated DVDs, took out my huge stash of porn (-wtf?!. Just kidding. I only have a few. Donations are welcome), and played World of warcraft until my eyes (and/or hands and/or head) hurt. Nothing much can be done at home. It pains me that I can’t even hold my 1-year old nephew. They’re staying in our house for a few days but I was advised by the doctor not to play with him or else he’ll get what I have. Whenever he sees me, he has this look as if he’s expecting me to do something goofy to make him laugh. I think he gets disappointed a lot of times when I just smile at him then I look away.

But looking at the bright side, at least I get to have some quality time with my bed (I know my pillows are craving for my hug). I can spend more time with my room (and appreciate the inch-thick dust that has accumulated on almost everything). I can’t really clean my room right now because the dust might scatter all over the place and aggravate my “so-called” condition (actually I’m just too lazy to clean my room. Charity work is always welcome). I can sleep anytime I want. I can do whatever I want (except, of course, smoke and drink liquor, and run outside the house naked, and throw rocks at our neighbor’s windows, and kill the truck drivers who pass by the road outside our house with their horns blaring like there’s no tomorrow, and maybe there’s a lot more that I can’t really do or should not do. sheesh). Well, at least I can play world of warcraft as much as I want. I can read any book that I want (Just finished Murakami’s wind-up bird chronicle, and after dark, and Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, currently reading Yann Martel’s Life of Pi). I’m also enjoying “Pushing Daisies” in DVD (First season). When I’m done with that, I can watch some “educational” films *insert naughty grin here* or whatever suits my mood.

Maybe this isn’t bad at all. Actually, it’s good that I have a reason to finally quit smoking. I’ve always been putting it for later thinking that I’m doing perfectly fine but now, I guess it really is time to quit. *sigh* I haven’t even started to learn how to blow smoke rings, but that should be ok.

September’s not wasted at all. Sometimes we all need a break from everything. Above all, I’m just glad I’m home.

There will be mistakes, and maybe the point is not to forget the rest of yourself if one little part might go bad. – Fight club. Chuck Palahniuk.

I received this email from a coworker. Aside from the
usual senseless spam email I receive, its nice to know that there are emails
like this. I found this essay worthy of posting so I’m sharing it with you
folks. Whoever wrote this piece was right on target. Kudos to you, whoever you
are.

They call it the
“Quarter-life Crisis.” It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start
realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn’t know and
may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year
or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that
people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so
close to aren’t exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people
you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don’t
recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren’t really cold, catty,
mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job… and
it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are
looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the
bottom and that scares you. Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what
others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you
realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding
things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn’t. One minute, you are
insecure and then the next, secure. You laugh and cry with the greatest force
of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the
enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize
that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do
but stay where you are or move forward. You get your heart broken and wonder
how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder
why you can’t meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or
maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you
are doing this because you know that you aren’t a bad person.

One night stands and
random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot
starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over
and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot
seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a
life for yourself… and while winning the race would be great, right now you’d
just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize
is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and
our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.
Send this to your twenty something friends…. maybe it will help someone feel
like they aren’t alone in their state of confusion…..

I officially gave
a name to my alter ego (Talk about being a semi-psycho). Some of my friends
already met him. Those friends were the ones who had the patience to stay until
he comes out. You see, he only makes his presence felt in times of great need.
When I say times of great need, I mean those times when I’m smashed and wasted
to oblivion or, in other words, when I’m downright-dead-drunk.

I met Mr. Happy a
few years back. I think it was some time in ’03-ish. That was the year I felt
like I was de-virginized in a bad sort of way. I was introduced to what I would
call fuckshitcornyashellheartbreak. Well, anyway, my cousins and I together
with our ever-dependable uncle thought of drinking it all away and drowning my
sorrows with liquor. And drink away, we did. I was drunk to the bones and I
thought I passed out a few hours after drinking. However, when I woke up the
next morning, my cousins told me a different story. They said I was so noisy
and wild and crazy and doing all the idiotic stuff I always told them I
wouldn’t do for the life of me. I didn’t believe their moronic story one single
bit. But then, they said “Touch your forehead. Can’t you feel the bruise you
got after a ladder fell on you because you were dancing in wild abandon?” So I
touched my forehead and felt a bump. Then, seeing my reflection on the mirror,
I did find a fresh bruise. I counterchecked this theory with my uncle and he
proved it all true. He said I was a different person last night. Damn. I don’t
remember doing all those things, saying all those words, and singing all those
lines.

After that, Mr.
Happy appeared quite a few more times in our drinking sessions. My friends say
that he’s this uber-cool genius/philosopher/singer/dancer/comedian/cassanova
dude. His thoughts free flow in a steady stream of words coming out of his
mouth, and with sense. His wit and quotable quotes become the life of the
party. He’s even talked about even after the party’s been long finished.
Sometimes he does some very embarrassing antics that I’ll regret in the
morning. But I guess that’s ok. I’ve lived with it.

Mr. Happy has
always been there to cheer my friends up when they’re down. As for me, he’s
there to voice out everything that’s bottled up inside me. He opens me up and
makes me tell the world about all my raw, unadulterated, no-frills, no spices,
no apprehensions, no inhibitions and naked thoughts and emotions. He makes my
dumbest ideas sound like words of wisdom. He’s the outlet allowing me to blow
off some steam. Without him, I would’ve probably undergone a state of
spontaneous combustion.

They say they like
me better when I’m drunk. Yep. I’d agree. I like myself better when I’m drunk
too. And I know I’m bound to be alcoholic because of this fact. But still, I
long for the day when Mr. Happy and I would become one. Without the help of
alcohol.

“Alcohol is the greatest equalizer. When
you’re all drunk, you don’t care who you’re talking to. You don’t think about
who’s got the bigger salary or whose wife is more beautiful. Heck, you won’t
care if it’s the goddamn president your barking at. There’s no such thing as
race, no class, no border, no nationality. As long as you’re all drunk. All
that matters is that you’re there. Intoxicated with spirits. Together.
Having fun. And you’re one with the world.” –Mr. Happy.