June 25, 2008

beasts of dysfunction

I'm your typical good girl. The funny, quirky, nerdy, goody two shoes. Though with a good deal of sarcasm and fondness for being random. I obsess about getting the grade for my classes though I'm a bit lazy to study. I rarely get scolded by my parents. I'm too boring socially for them to worry about me getting wasted or trying out meth or some other high inducing drug. I'm too introverted to be seduced by going out with classmates I barely know and hanging out. I can hear you saying "You need a life." Hehe, not really. I like how I am and quite comfortable with my life. So what's the point then? You can already see that this is going to turn into a big, raging, hormonal rant, don't you?

No matter how perfect I desire to be I cannot ignore that I am still a beast of dysfunction. This is not a 'pity me' statement. Since it is the truth, after all. I believe that no one is perfect, not one can be. Despite push or pull, whether you devote your life to be one, perfection is just elusive that way. What I wish though is the freedom from being expected perfect. Perfection is not demanded but it is quite implied. Like a humongous dragon breathing down your neck, filling your lungs with smoke with your every inhale and possibly a crunchy meal next. I know that a lot is expected of me and my knowledge of that just annoys me.

I am the youngest child and youngest daughter in our family. Yes, those two qualifications are important. Growing up, my older sisters were already in college while I was still in grade school. I rarely saw them but I rarely failed to hear tales of their flaws or at least what grave mistakes merited a public rant from my parents. Disappointment laced their voices when they would share what my sisters did wrong. And I guess that sticks to a kid, it's one of those childhood sentiments that clung to you. I was always told, "Wag mong gayahin mga manang mo." (Don't be like your sisters). And my mind asked what exactly were my sisters? One married too early, and another didn't finish college but worked instead. I do not fault them for doing what they did. I saw them as independent people who made their own choices. I admit I was angry at my parents too, saying we were Christians but driving their children away. It did not make sense why we were that way.

I remember once when my brother and mother had a fight they both cried. I remember watching TV and having my back to them so they did not see tears on my face. My brother did not want dinner so I went to his room and lain their beside him. I did not have to look at him to know that he was crying. He was angry and hurt that they were thinking him ungrateful. He said that he did his best and he graduated from the academy for them. I did not say anything and just asked if he was going to eat. Appeasing him was unlike me when I did not want to choose sides. I love my parents and my brother, they were family. And family to me should not take sides.

I was not like my sisters, I grew up dependent on my parents. I still have the childish habit of holding on to my mom's shirt tail like a child would (although he being annoyed by it is a bonus). My father frowns when I hesitate to talk to other people as I try to shrink into myself. I believed my self to be not smart like my sisters, not talented enough, not pretty enough, not good enough. I am not like my brother, I do not have ambition. I do not have goals for my self. I do not have the initiative to do what I need to do. By being like them would I fail my parents too? By being myself would I remain mediocre?

I no longer wanted to be a child. When I was a child I was powerless, unable to voice my opinions. I experienced this when my mother told my sister to pack her things and leave our house. She was being sent away. I remembered following her to the room we shared and asking her if it was my fault she was being sent away. I told her that I would behave myself and not fight with her for the remote control if she did not leave. But she just shook her head and answered that no, it was not me but she had to leave. It was then I accepted that I could not remain a child anymore. Being a child was naive and pathetic so I grew up.

I cannot ignore the flaws and scars my family have. I tell my sister that my parents are different from their parents. They can only stand being with them for three days and no more. My parents when with my siblings turn into harsh critics which embarrasses me. This blog is not one sided, my parents are not the only ones in the wrong. A relationship is a two way street, they say. I believe that. I try and tell myself that if we weren't so self-absorbed then perhaps we could all reconcile without having to resort into having a three day countdown. Sometimes I am in the receiving end of my parent's harsh words and I admit that it still makes me feel small and weak. Whoever said words could not never harm should rot in a pit of verbal massacre. But I do not dwell in them anymore, especially when I did do something wrong. It's just so easy to cling to being hurt and angry. That just tires me out.

I will just continue to be myself, borrowing backbone from my sisters and ambition from my brother, and advice from my parents. Maybe by being me, I'll be free from being perfect. And that way I will be happy.

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