I am not in church or in my apartment, or in a cozy coffee shop as I am writing this. I stayed overnight in a hotel in Naga just because I didn’t want to stay alone in a huge, empty house with an uncomfortable folding bed. Also because the power was out in the whole town last night. It’s Sabbath and I’m supposed to be in church. Even though I feel like I really need to hear some inspiring words to keep me sane, I still opted to stay in bed, browsed the net hoping to find the answers I know I wouldn’t get. I really should have gone to church today but I don’t know how to get there.
It’s been a month since I packed my things, my three years worth of stuff in Maginhawa, to relocate somewhere in the vast countryside called Camarines Sur. I chose this over a few other options I have in Manila. I don’t have a regular job there but I have freelance projects that would have been sufficient to keep me alive. I have other job offers as worthy as the one I have right now. My friends are there, and Manila is relatively nearer to home than where I am now (the question of where really is home is another story for another blog entry, I suppose.) So why did I choose to leave that all behind? I wanted to escape. I thought if I stayed away from all the things that make me remember it would have been easier to move on, start a new life and become happy again. I was wrong.
I knew this would happen. It was never about the place. No matter where I go, be it in the farthest part of the country or the North Pole, I would still be as lonely as I am now. I am tired of working all day and night just to keep my head out of that horrible memory of losing my mom. I don’t want to feel miserable so I surround myself with a lot of responsibilities, be it work or some remote tasks as an older sister and head of the family. I am renting a stupidly huge, empty apartment enough to house two families –I thought I need space I literally live in it. Despite all those pointless efforts to live differently, I still don’t seem to feel any better. It just keeps getting worse.
I eat alone in most days. I don’t have anyone to talk to and I don’t feel like sharing my sad story to anyone here anyway. I always wanted to move. I don’t like staying in one place. So I usually walk going to the office and every time, people would stare at me wondering why the hell am I walking when there are options for transport. My workstation is at the farthest end of the Provincial Complex and I usually have meetings at the main building located at the other end. Yes, I usually walk that far and I don’t mind.
Being alone is somewhat comforting, at least there wouldn’t be anyone asking me why I look as if I’m carrying the weights of the world. However, it also makes me feel like no one really cares about me. Well, no one cares about me here but I bet my friends and my family care for me but they live somewhere else. I miss them. And I miss me.
I am not questioning God why this has happened, no. I am not that type anymore. I have outgrown all those “nobody-loves-me-I-am-going-to-kill-myself” shit even before “emo” became the identifier for that kind. What I am asking Him for now is to show me the way, to guide me in all my decisions, and help me get through this phase because I cannot do this on my own. I don’t have the strength to overcome all the troubles and trials in this world. I am practically alone now and I have to fend for myself. I was trying my best to give my mom the best of everything but even before I can get to that part, she died. I don’t have a purpose anymore except that I have to work so that I can at least pay the debts and the bills. I am losing me and I keep asking God to help me get through this because this is not who I wanted to be. I know, somewhere in the future everything will be okay but that is not today, I am not okay. I’m lost and hoping, praying to be found.