The Girl Who Loved Herself Too Much

It has been so long since I wrote something about someone, or some place, or some experience. I must have been too busy to even think of blogging again. I have a long holiday this weekend— I could not let this chance to write just pass.

Yeah, I had many new experiences in the past few months—and I have met new faces along the way. Yet, the desire that I have now is to write about someone who has been constantly making my solitude pre-occupied recently with doubts and hesitation.

I met this girl a few months ago. I would like to think I knew her well enough to write about her- but certainly not that “well” to talk much about her past. Neither can I tell you about what she liked and hated. I knew her from her friends and from the things she wrote about. I knew her from the most little and unwelcome opportunity to talk with her. Most significantly, I knew her from someone so close to her whom she thought would be her best friend for life.

I am writing this not to judge her—instead, I want to try to understand her. Or perhaps, understand myself why I think of her the way I think about her. I wish to know if she was right at most times as she claimed to be, or if she was just constantly believing she never had been wrong. I will try to write things that will not damage her person. I will try.

She was never anyone special, except based on her belief that she was very much loved by her friends who thought knew the life she lived. Her family was ever so supportive of whatever she had chosen to be. She was lucky to have lived her life through her own choices, notwithstanding what others would say of her. She called it “taking risks”. I find it puzzling, though. But on the other hand, I somehow see her reasons.

She fell in love madly when she was too young—so madly that she chose to get married at a very early age. I admire her boldness to face things which could lead to uncertainty and failure. And even if this decision she had made would probably hurt people who genuinely cared for her, she took great risks. They lived together for a long time—some strong evidence that they loved each other in some way. But, like many relationships which was started by two immature people, their marriage ended. There may have been painful experiences attached to it—things I am surely not capable of sharing in detail ever.

This girl wandered—from places to places. As she always said, she did this to be herself again. She tried to enjoy her life which she realized was never lived to the fullest when she decided to marry young. She tried to fall in love again. Maybe, not just once. And whenever she did and failed, she never failed to express how a fool she was for being tricked by life all over again. She would always cry when she would get hurt, willingly sharing with people how emotionally damaged she had been. She never stopped until she met a man she thought would live with her in her wonderland.

Again, she took risks. She loved this man—that’s what she always said. She loved him so much that she decided to spend the rest of her life with him. She loved him, continuously believing he loved her as much. She tried to be part of this man’s life, but never succeeded. She appeared to be never appreciated by most people in her man’s world, and she was greatly misunderstood.

Though she tried to be a great wife to this man, she knew in her heart that it was never enough for her to believe that she was truly happy. But this girl never gave up in telling others how contented she was with her life—with her man. People who did not see believed in her, and with her. Yes, she was happy, but only people with no eyes, only ears, could tell.

With all the pretentions and lies she unshakably lived with, no one noticed how she was slowly ruining the happiness she boasted to the world. She wanted to convince herself that she was satisfied with her life—but her actions spoke the other way. She, again, started to have fun and to enjoy her life—finding usual instances in anyone and anything as her reasons to be carefree. She found herself in more situations where she could not easily give certain things up. And then slowly, she learned to lie even to the one person she isolated from the world whom she said was the man she would spend the rest of her life with. And everything she formed was, then again, gradually shattered—into pieces that would never again be whole.

Alone—that’s what she is again. Not to anyone’s surprise, she again tries to do this all “make believe” pronouncements that her misfortune is everything’s fault except hers. Expectedly, people who do not know the story believe her, and for the millionth time told her she should be strong to face a new stage of her life again. But if only those whom she had hurt in separate stages of her life would come together to tell the whole story, maybe the world around her would understand—to tell her to change her ways than fight… to fix her mess than blame… to care for others than love herself too much.

Her strength in life, she said, comes from the pains she has had in the past—from people who took her for granted, and did not see her value and her capacity to love. This may be true, for her life goes on like she felt no heartaches. She tried to keep her friends through her endless pretentiousness, and I don’t think she finds anything wrong with that either. This, probably, is her undesirable magic.

I still hope I could be one of many who sympathize with her—that I could see her value as someone that deserves to be loved forever. Believe me, I am willing to feel that way. But right now, why am I not so sure?

BBQ somewhere in Tanah Merah

Sinusulat ko ito while waiting for a friend, si Marj, here at the Tanah Merah train station. We are heading to another lunchmate's place, he invited all of us para mag-dinner sa kanila and it's nice if we could bring something to share with everyone, too. Jon lives in a condo near the station, yet we have to walk under these heavy rains which recently appear to be visiting Singapore more often than years back.

It's my first time to be around this area. Actually, di naman talaga ako lumalabas ng bahay unless I need to go to Orchard to send money to PH. Kakalungkot nga kasi nakakadagag pa sa pagka-homesick ko ang pagiging "loner". In China, It's kinda odd that I felt sick whenever may mga yayaan na ganito. Perhaps, that's what I wanted to change- just to make working abroad a great experience.

Haaay, wala pa rin si Marj...

Anyway, I want to enjoy this night with them. They're not just plain lunchmates after all. They're good and mature friends that I would like to keep. It's good to have found their kind here in Singapore.