Saturday, July 08, 2006
still looking forward to going back...
Marred by hurts, this trip to California was not the happiest. It sure was memorable though.
Most people called me “bato” (stone) before, jokingly of course, because I never cried. It was hard for me to cry. Even when I was very angry or at the height of emotions, when I already felt like I needed a good cry, I can’t. It hurt, but I trained myself to do that, stopping the tears from falling when I was being scolded as a kid or when I got hurt at play.
So it was a surprise when I was crying my eyes out, sobbing so softly, one late night at the house of my cousin. It was one day before our show and I was really worrying how I would look. How I would feel.
It was the loneliest time of the trip, ironically when I was with family. I missed the comforting words of my sister, the assurance of my mother and the strength of my father. I felt like I was between two huge slabs of stone, I didn’t know which side I should push away, which I should back up. I was crying, incessantly, for fear that I’ve come up short of expectations. I felt judged and misjudged.
To the clueless, I was doing ok, but some noticed the stress that the last leg of the tour was putting on me. It was tough trying to please everyone and ending up with nothing. It was tough trying to defend one to the other, trying to accept and trying so much to be believed. Failing and falling.
I’ve always known that mixing worlds is difficult. I’ve always tried to keep my worlds apart. I gave in just once. This one time. To the prodding of an eager relative, and in response to a call for help by friends. Not even as a favor for me. I tried to stop it, to forestall, at least, just so we had more time to think things through. It was beyond my power. And I guess… past is past. I have to move on.-10-14may2006
tweenkies_1106 at 12:09 PM