Cowardice

So I was cleaning my room, and my other room… and another room I was using as s storeroom when I came across this very old, tampered little notebook I used to bring with me. I was sitting cross-legged and exactly when I saw the book, my heart did skip a beat. Well, as expected because I know what it contain.

I have completely forgotten about it. Obviously because I’d trashed every remnants of my “trying days” so whole-heartedly, I kept them to where even I could forget they are there. My sister from Australia is coming home so we are all so busy tidying up the house. Had it not been the case, this little treasure will remain untouched – even by the owner.

I knew the words I wrote and the feelings I felt. And sitting there, so many years after – it’s as if I’m reading someone else’s thoughts. I can’t help but say to myself “dang, I was such a loser” (smiling because I don’t mean it). You see, I’m so disgustingly proud of myself – because I knew I’ve come a very long way.

“there’s a constant reminder in my room that I’m stronger than I seem, tougher than I look… because here, in this very room I cried, I hate, I loved, I envied, I loathed… then I healed.

… for what I am… is neither evil nor hopeless.

Did I make mistakes? yes.
Did I deceive, lie and pretend? yes.
Did I love myself too much to want to destroy someone with my bare hands? yes.

In my mind I did but I never get to do all of them.

Why?
Because I’m a coward.
Because I’m always scared.
Because I don’t know who I really am.
Because I’m not sure what I really want.

I’m scared and clueless. I’m confused. I want this to end. “

- pathetic jasmin dela paz (1994-2004)

There’s actually a very long story behind it. It rocked me so hard I knew then and there I fell rock bottom. I was so depressed I kept writing and writing until I filled the whole pages of the very unfortunate book. I wanna post it here to somehow immortalize it – of course, for myself because I’m the only person who knew exactly what the words meant.