Seeing red. And some other random thoughts.

Ah, the first post for the new year that is 2014. Let me begin this entry with a bit of self-betrayal: I promised myself that I would dedicate the year's first post to a recap of the past year's events. Unfortunately, I had been taken over once again by the bane of all academe: procrastination (and her twin sister, laziness), so I'll have to defer the recap to another time. Also, today's events were quite special in their own unique way, and I would like to have them locked into writing for posterity's sake. Just in case I run into something like today again. Or, at least, ensure that I learn something out of the chaos that I have found myself in.

Random thought #1: I think I ended that last sentence with a preposition. Gahd, my grammar has been rusty as of late. Same thing with my pronunciation. Hell, even my vocabulary's taken a hit, recently. Looks like I'll need to brush up on my English again, for the sake of keeping myself sharp, skill-wise.

Okay, that was a runaway brain fart. But if I'm gonna try and achieve this posterity thing, I'll have to get used to catching random thoughts on the fly.

So, anyway, without further ado, here are the random thoughts and things that have ran through my head recently:

Aggression:
Seems that I've gotten a ton of this today, all without any kind of intentional provocation from my end. People just end up getting angry while in my presence. Like my accounting professor, for instance. I have no idea why he's giving me low grades, but I'm pretty sure he does it on purpose. He had absolutely no reason to give me a low (albeit passing) score on that homework. Everything balanced, I had the same results as my classmates who got perfect marks, hell, I even made sure that my paper was as clean as it can be. That alone took a lot of effort on my part. And yet, despite all that, I only got fair marks on that homework. With absolutely no explanation or indication of what caused that kind of score. SMH. And the worst thing about this situation is that I can't really complain about it. Otherwise, I'll just find myself in open conflict with the very person who holds sway over the fate of my very grades.

That's one confrontation I would definitely want to avoid, if I am to achieve my goals of becoming an accountant.

Another instance of hostility I experienced today was that from a classmate of mine. Well, to be fair, she was indeed pissed off at something, I had no idea what it was. All I knew then was that, whatever her damage was, it couldn't possibly be a reason for her to lash out at someone like me. We weren't that close, in the first place.. well, okay, maybe, I am trying to "appeal" to her clique of girls, but all because I needed to build my network of connections within the campus. Friends are always useful in any kind of situation. And no ulterior motives, of course. I'm more than a decade older than these girls, so it would definitely be weird if I got close to them. I'm just being pragmatic is all I'm saying. Anyway, she and I are friendly enough to converse and be mildly funny and all, but not close enough to be totally buddy-buddy with each other. So I didn't really expect that she'd be "comfortable" enough to shed her compliance to the rules of general civility and actually repel me with a "That's not very funny" line when I attempted to cheer her up. To me, that's a huge red alert, since that means I've already crossed my own boundaries and exposed myself to her, them, and to their world of social circles. Which is something that I absolutely want to avoid getting myself tangled into. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just there to study. I have no plan of getting involved with their teenage drama stuff or becoming an actual object of their conversations and emotions. That is not part of my plan.

Biggest one, of course, would be from my girlfriend. Getting pissed off at my Facebook activities has become her favorite hobby as of late. All for the tiniest of reasons, if they can even be considered as valid. Like me following this FHM model, liking that classmate's status, stuff like that. We could be fighting over more serious stuff, like me actually trying to cheat with another girl, me trying to run off with her money. Anything. But no, she had to choose the route of peeving over a bevy of imaginary threats made up of FHM models, 16-year-old teenagers, and co-workers who live miles away from where I am. Babe, if you're reading this, I have one thing to say: set your priorities straight. I am not cheating.

Some other minor stuff of aggression include this morning's jeepney ride. Driver got pissed off at a kid who got off without paying. Dude riding in the front got pissed off at the driver for not cutting the kid some slack. Driver got pissed off more and started a small verbal battle with the dude in front. No idea how it ended as I had already gotten off the jeepney in the middle of the situation. Another one would be while I was walking my dog through the subdivision. A girl got pissed off at me for staying in front of her house a little too long, since she thought I was letting my dog urinate on their fence. Which wasn't really happening of course.

Add to that my long-standing animosity towards the two idiots over at my work, and you have my day's menu of hot, angry steam.

Good thing my sister was at work today. It could have been worse, haha.

Money (and my job):
Well, this one's always been in my head since I started working. It has been a bigger object of my thoughts recently, though, mainly because of my obsession over my PC project. If I were to guess on an estimate, I'd say my projects about 50 to 60 percent complete. I still have a long way to go with the parts that I need, so if I'm going to finish this project, I'll have to make sure that I maintain the status quo with regards to my job. Otherwise, I'll have delays.

The Daily Grind:
I'm starting to feel it. The topics at school are starting to ramp up, and the professors are gaining momentum with their tasks. My grades aren't exactly in top shape, either, so I'll have to step my game up beginning now.

I wish summer would come a bit sooner, though. I need a vacation.

Writing:
Not sure if I want to tackle this one right now, but I'll chip a thought in for later: Can I consider myself as a writer, since I've been writing on my blogs for a long time? I think the answer to that would be no. Technically, a writer is someone who writes for a living, and that's not what I do. My blogging is more of a personal thing, and I'm not really offering my "work" to an audience for consumption. But at the same time, I don't mind keeping this blog open to the public. Just keeping it open, not sharing it, that's the thing. I'm not trying to create or present art, either. It just is and that's why this is called a "Weblog", it's a log of stuff posted on the web. It's not for anybody, but it's open to everybody. Like a park. Or the facade of my own house. Something like that. I'll have this one pinned down eventually.

Health and fitness:
I often say that I currently have no time for such endeavors, but in reality, it's more of a will issue. I can definitely make room for an hour-long exercise session, but recently, I've been so lazy about stuff, especially exercise. To be honest, I've started feeling various (mostly painful and uncomfortable) sensations all around my body, and even though I really want to fix these potential problems, I've done nothing to contribute towards that end. Maybe someday I'll end up regretting not doing anything about my health, but I really don't want to come to that point. I need to do something. Now. While I'm still in my twenties.

The future (and how uncertain everything is):
Just a few things about my anxiety over the future. Everything's still so uncertain, and yet here I am, betting on my own plans and hoping for the best. Well, I guess that's the reason why I'm so anxious; I hate betting on anything. If I'm gonna be part of anything, I would prefer it to be a bit more certain. Also, there are some things that I'm still not sure about. I hope I can get to resolve these particular issues before the year ends. I'm not getting any younger, and the window of opportunity is starting to close up, so I'd have to close things now before that window closes.

Well, that's about it. A bit constipated, but that's to be expected from someone who should be blogging regularly about things.

Lesson for the day: Limits, limits, limits. Be aware of your limits.

So it's the end of another year.

I'm supposed to make a rundown of the past year's events, and how significant they had been to my life.

However, it just so happened that my writing faculties have decided to take a leave of absence for the time being. 

And so I will have to do this rundown later, when I'm actually in a more awake state. 

Anyway, goodbye, 2013. Thanks for letting me live past you, with all the crazy bus rides and dark alleyways that I had to go through during your time. Thank you for allowing me to live long enough to see 2014. Thank you for giving me all the opportunities, may they be ones that I actually took advantage of or ones that I let slip by. Either way, thank you. 

I hope 2014 does me the same favors as you did. 

A sudden case of melancholy

I don't really know what's happening. I just came from what many would call "a good time" with some so-called "new-found friends" of mine. I spent a good amount of cash, we hung out, shared some awkward silences, and some not-so awkward ones, but overall, everything was good.

Technically.

All the laughs were present. The smiles, the small talk, and the exchange of pleasant sentiments were there as well. So, technically, I had a good time. 

And yet, I'm still here, typing in front of my computer with a relentless sense of dissatisfaction. Sitting with one leg raised on my desk, like I was bored as all hell.

Maybe it was because the food wasn't that great. I've gone to that particular buffet-style restaurant one time too many, and even though it's a complete haven for serving all my favorite food, its novelty might have rubbed off me already. 

Or probably it was the surreal experience of trying to interacting with familiar-yet-not-so-much people in a very unnatural manner of familiarity. We already know so much about each other, yet today was the first time that we've actually seen each other's faces. And now we're all trying to be familiar with each other, since the emotional investment's already there. It's like trying to buy real things with play money. 

Or maybe it was the entire setup itself. I had to take charge of gathering everybody, think up the location and all the other details, and actually travel to that far-flung location just to make sure that this event really happened. I'm not used to being the center of any kind of arrangement, and so to be responsible for the success of a small get-together did stress me out a little bit. 

It's probably one of those reasons. 

Or it might just be because I was dissatisfied with the turnout. Failed expectations do tend to let me down the most. Of what that expectation was, I cannot really say, nor am I in the place to say it. 

But in any case, if there's somebody to blame for my dissatisfaction, it would actually be me. For expecting something that shouldn't and wouldn't really happen in the first place. One look at the mirror, and it's already enough to dispel any sense of entitlement in me. I am not worthy.

So I guess the only way for me to beat this melancholy down is to just forget about everything and carry on like nothing happened. No use trying to labor in the attempt of achieving something that's out of reach in the first place. 

So much for Communism and its promise of equality. 

The dying moments of a green-eyed monster

Okay.

So there was a friend of mine (well, not really an actual "friend" of mine, but not a total acquaintance either.. let's just say we don't get to meet each other often) whom I've heard has just moved up in the world of BPO. My best buddy just told me a while ago that she apparently got promoted to an Operations Manager, or something equally awesome. Which, to me, is, like, a very, very big deal. Yes, the call center industry isn't that great, being the glorified sweatshop that it is, and though working as a call center agent is a decent way to earn a living, it's not the kind of job that most people would look up to as a profession worthy of respect. However, to those who are aware of the draconian systems of control and the inhuman productivity expectations that plague the industry, moving up by even just a half-notch in the chain of promotion is already a great accomplishment, considering that it would already require superhuman determination and effort just to get noticed among the hundreds of faces that register in the eyes of the higher-ups, and that sometimes, the reward for exerting that much effort into your work isn't that rewarding, to say the least. So to move all the way up to the top levels of management.. well, that's already saying something.

I guess she deserved it anyway, if you think about it. She did stick to that company all throughout the different highs and lows for, hmm, I dunno, several years? Which I believe is already an accomplishment in itself. So yeah, I guess she did deserve it. Congratulations to her, and I honestly wish her the very best.

Wait, what? Me? Congratulating somebody else on a job well done? Did I really just say that?

Whoa.

No, really, for the first time in my life, I wasn't totally green with envy. She was a friend. Not a very close one, yes, but a friend, nonetheless. And even though I didn't really think that much of her as a person, I still managed to find it in myself to be a bit happy about her accomplishment. Which is a really big surprise for me, because I usually flare up whenever I hear success stories from people whom I think didn't really deserve it. I used to hate it whenever somebody whom I underestimated before suddenly becomes successful for some reason.

Why?

Because I was plagued with what most people call as "crab mentality".

I hate to admit it, but yeah, I was that kind of person. I used to criticize people a lot. The success of others really irked me a lot back then for some reason, and I never even realized that I was doing it because I was really good at justifying my point, especially when it was about the failings of other people. I really liked pointing out reasons for not being too happy about somebody's success, because, well, I felt good about it. Especially when that person was close to me, like a friend or something, because I feel like I was still in the game with them if I believed that they weren't that much ahead of me. I felt like I was not being left behind because I am so good at leading myself to believe that we were all still swimming in the same lake of misery. Or, at least, that's what I thought.

Well, they say that kind of inclination can be found in people who are unsuccessful in their own endeavors. Looking back, yeah, that's probably the reason why I was like that. Back then, I was a miserable shell of a man who withdrew from the world that beat him down to submission. I've always kept on looking for ways to try to climb out of the hole that I was in, even if it meant trying to pull the others who were above me. I was a wreck.

So I was actually surprised at myself when I realized that, hey, I wasn't totally envious or critical of my friend's success this time. The story of her potentially earning four times as much as me didn't shake me that much, or make me raise an eyebrow over the thought of her, a person that I underestimated, was now somebody's boss . I was a 100% sure that I was totally and honestly happy for her in a tiny little way. Yes, I was that surprised.

What does that mean?

Am I starting to have a better sense of security in myself? Am I now turning into a more adjusted kind of individual? Is everything starting to be okay now?

Well, I can't really say for certain. I'm still nowhere near my goals (hmm.. goals.. I'll have to remember to write something about that later), and I don't think that I already have the level of respect that I'm looking for from the people whose opinions matter to me. Most of all, I still feel like what I'm currently in right now is merely an upturn in my wheel of life. I'm still kind of expecting that downward phase to come in any day by now.

Nevertheless, there's this small part in me that's starting to look upwards. Even if this may prove to be just another upward turn in my wheel, I'm starting to feel like I'm going towards the right direction this time.

And maybe because I've started to realize the fact that pulling everybody slower won't make me run any faster that I've lessened the hate towards other peoples' success. Learning my place in the world by accepting the fact of my own weakness didn't hurt as well.

I guess I'm on the right track now. Not quite there yet, but at least I'm on my way.

Hopefully.

Well, I honestly hope that my friend's success continues. And, who knows, maybe someday I'll have that same level of success as she had. Not that I want to go back to working as a call center agent of course. To just be there and say that I got there on my own is what I meant.

Not really guilt-tripping

It's really funny that, here I am, totally obsessed with the pursuit of my life's meaning, and yet, in the face of all the problems that our society face today, my obsession is proven to be insignificant.

It was Saturday evening at the mall. Me and my girlfriend were at the tail-end of another wonderful day, and we were on the queue for the last ride going home. While we were waiting for our turn to be ushered inside the shuttle, I noticed this familiar street urchin who's been haunting that particular area of the mall for as long as I can remember. He was holding a broom, and he was sweeping the floor with it, even though he wasn't supposed to do so, and there were no dirt for him to sweep at all. He was merely playing around by imitating the act of sweeping the floor with a broom. Childish behavior. Which isn't really strange for his case, considering that a quick look at the kid's size betrays the fact that he's a very young child, 4 years old at the very least. 

Anyway, there he was, waving that broom around, swinging around playfully without minding the people around him. It came to the point where the kid was flailing that broom around so much that he almost hit my girlfriend. Being the girl that my girlfriend is, she instinctively evaded the swing in order to avoid getting dirty. And of course, there was a slight hint of irritation in her face along with that act. Naturally, the other people inside the shuttle looked at our direction, because that's what people do when there's a commotion, no matter how insignificant it is. It was a bit embarrassing, to be honest, and actually, I couldn't really tell what I was really embarrassed about. It could have been my girlfriend, because she did give out this quick shriek that is typical of your average spooked girl. Or it could have been the fact that I allowed everything to happen. I don't really know, to be honest.

If there was an emotion that prevailed at that moment, though, it was the disturbing feeling that I got looking at that kid. It's not actually the first time that I've encountered that kid. He's always approached me ever since I started riding that particular shuttle route to accompany my girlfriend home, and every time he approached me for money, I rejected him. Nevertheless, I was still disturbed by the awkwardness of me not helping this kid, even though there was an overflowing emotion of sympathy in my chest. Once again, I have refused to give him money, and this time I felt exceptionally bad because of it.

Of course, I wasn't this way before. Back when I was still in college, I almost always gave out spare change to beggars and street urchins whenever they stretched their hands out to me. I felt good doing it, not because I wanted to help, but because I believed it to be the right thing, and of course, doing the right thing makes me feel good about myself. But ever since I've read this online conversation between my professors and my classmates about the supposed virtue of handing out alms, I have stopped giving alms, primarily because according to them, alms are merely dole-outs that don't really uplift the condition of the poor. Also, giving out alms because it felt good is really not a very good thing to do, since by doing so we reduce the beggars down to mere objects of self-justification. It's doing a good thing for the sake of feeling good because you've just done a good thing, which pretty much waters your act of goodwill down to insincerity. Hence my unwillingness to give money to that poor kid. I won't let myself be drawn to insincerity. 

But at the same time, I was deeply troubled by the fact that I didn't really help that kid by not giving him anything, either. Like so many others that have seen that kid, I merely looked at him and then forgot all about the experience once I lost sight of him. I was disturbed by the fact that, here I am enjoying the fruits of my so-called labor, while at the same time there are children like that kid who can't even enjoy a decent meal because he was born into a circumstance that never gave him the chance to do so. 

Apathy? I don't think so. Apathy is when someone has been totally desensitized by the issue at hand that he has lost the motivation to do something about it. No, I felt sympathy at the kid, and I somehow empathized with his feelings, since I, too, was a child at one point in my life. I may not have been as unfortunate as him, but I did know the feeling of loneliness, of helplessness, of not being able to do anything about my circumstance. Nobody deserves that kind of life. 

If I was to describe myself at that moment, it wouldn't be apathetic, nor would it be sincere, but rather, it would be helpless. I thought was helpless in the face of the situation. Maybe I could have gotten out of my way to help that kid by bringing him to some shelter, or to the proper authorities. But that would probably expose myself to the danger of being attacked by whoever was in charge of watching that kid. I'm aware that there are criminals who run syndicates dedicated to making children ask for alms, and so trying anything with that kid without a policeman or security might risk endangering my safety. Also, I've never tried taking anybody to DSWD. I don't exactly know how that situation would play out. Giving him money won't exactly help him either, because it might just go to whoever was watching that kid. Or, at the very least, be spent on a piece of bread that won't even last for a night. In the end, I believe was totally useless for this young kid. I was another strange face in the crowd that didn't really matter to him. 

Maybe. That's what I believe. 

But maybe it was also because I am so consumed by my journey to self-actualization that I don't want to be sidetracked by anybody or anything. Maybe I didn't want to get out of my way for this kid because of the fact that I would have to get out of my way for him. I didn't want to do that, maybe. There's still this idea that I am entitled to the fruits of my labor, and that I am entitled to rest from my labors once in a while because I worked for those rewards. 

However, there's this sentiment in me that I can't really shake off: how can I be happy when there are poor people around me? How can I enjoy my money and my time if other people can't enjoy theirs? How can I be so selfish to just think of myself and forget the pain and suffering that other people have to go through every day? 

How dare me to live like this in spite of the poverty in the world?

I don't think it would be fair to myself, to let myself be blind and ignorant of the suffering that there is in the world for my own sake. To just blind myself to the rest of the world so that I can pursue my own salvation. It's not fair. To me AND to everybody. 

It looks like it's time for me to do something useful. 

A Letter to a Friend (that I wish he never gets to read)

Hi there.

First of all, I hope you never get to read this letter. Mainly because what I'll be pouring into this piece of writing will be what I believe to be the truth. Truth about what I think about you, what you think of yourself, and what I believe about what's going to be the best for you. And most of all, this letter is going to be about the biggest truth about yourself.

The truth that you absolutely hate the truth. And you will hate reading this letter because of that.

We've known each other for so long. It's been a rough relationship, but we had our moments. We weren't exactly the most dynamic duo out there. We might not actually be the best kind of friends at all. But we stuck together all these years because we were each other's comfort zone. You did a lot of other things and went out with other friends, but once you've scratched that itch you were having at that moment, you'd come back knocking on my gate, carrying all the stories you've saved up during the times when you were having that phase of yours. Those were good times indeed, and that's why we've stuck as friends for almost a decade now. And coming from what you've been telling me about you and the adventures you've been having, I think I have at least an inkling of what your motives are.

You like going out with other people and trying different stuff because you're the type of person who loves pleasing other people. That's how you affirm yourself: you revel in the admiration of others. But not because you're a megalomaniac, no, you're definitely nothing like that. You simply grew up in an atmosphere of camaraderie, an environment where family and social relationships are valued more than money and property. You genuinely love people and their company. Your self-affirmation is brought about by the respect and adoration that other people afford you whenever you manage to please them. It's what I admire about you the most, since I, too, am a frustrated crowd-pleasing wannabe. I don't have the kind of people skills that you have. But at the same time, it's that same quality that I believe has brought you to your knees as of late.

You see, because you long for respect and admiration so much, you've raised the bar for yourself so high that you can't really reach in a realistic manner at this point. There's this burning pride in you that compels you to seek ways on how to turn heads towards you. You've set yourself on paths that won't really end that well for you, because you're not meant for those paths, and yet you have done so because these are paths that would allow you to collect the most amount of admiration and respect.

Your don't have Aphasia, but you sure sound like you do, regardless of the tongue you're speaking in, and yet the number of  attempts you've made at trying to get into a call center has almost reached into the hundreds. You've pretty much combed the entirety of Makati and Cubao, and all you've gotten was a couple of months' work that can't even be considered as valid work experience. And yet, after all that, you still keep on trying.

Attempt after attempt after attempt. All because of the belief that getting into a call center is an achievement that is worthy of praise and respect. It's not, trust me. It's sweatshop labor, employees are being treated like tethered cattle, and the distinction of being able to communicate in English with an American accent is diminished by the fact that call center agents are merely parrots that replay the policies and the guides that have been prescribed by the client. Yeah, a decade ago, call center agents used to be glamorous and worthy of being called a professional. But not today, when everything about the industry has been laid bare in front of us. There's nothing professional about being a call center agent. Nothing glamorous.

I know you already know that. That's actually why I urged you to look towards other potential employment opportunities. You graduated as a nurse, you've had training in the healthcare industry; you should be working in that industry. But no, you refuse that industry because you feel like being a caregiver is a downgrade, a job that is looked down upon because it's manual labor. You don't believe that there's any glory in that kind of work.

You're actually a decent cook. You've cooked for tons of parties, because again, you and your lot revel in the company of each other, especially in celebration. With proper training, I honestly believe you'd actually be a great cook, maybe even a professional chef. But again, you ignore that path, because you think kitchen work is for servants.

No, you still love the idea of being a young professional; a yuppie in long sleeves walking along the streets of Makati like some highfalutin bigshot with an iPhone in one hand and a Blackberry full of contacts in the other (oh wait, you prefer the Galaxy S4 now, not because it's better, but because you used to train for Galaxy S4 support, thereby making you an "expert" on stuff regarding that phone).

That's why you're dabbling in Photoshop right now. At the very least, you've finally realized that you're on the wrong path. But now you've set yourself on another wrong one. Why?

Because you're not an artist. You've never been one. And not in a million years will you ever be. I could be wrong about that last part, but I think I know you enough to come at that conclusion.

You don't have the natural creativity. You don't have the artistic vision. You don't have the dexterity and the skill to execute. Photoshop isn't a skill, not when you're simply adjusting filters on a picture you grabbed from the internet. You don't even know the concept of a "subject" in art. You don't have any purpose in your creations. You just play around with the tools that are available in whatever version of Photoshop you might have, and then call whatever result you get as "art". No, your "art" is the equivalent of a misguided experiment's unintended outcomes. It's the digital equivalent of a paper doodle. Plain and simple.

Yet you're still walking along this path, because once again, you believe this is a path that will bring you respect and admiration. After all, professional artists do get the nod from other professionals because they're also a force that creates, a force that affects and drives the society and the economy.

You want to be part of that. You want to get that nod of respect, too. But only if you start creating will you be part of that creative force. Which, at this rate, won't seem to be happening anytime soon.

Hence my point as to why you don't like the truth: Because it's opposite of what you're trying to achieve. You don't like to admit the fact that you are nothing like the person that you're trying to be. However, since that particular truth does go against your will, you've blinded yourself to it, so much that, at this point, you're practically unable to steer yourself away from the wrong decisions you've set yourself on.

You are a humble person, I give you that. But right now, you're simply doing everything just to get that self-affirmation you've been getting through the attention of others, so much that your humility has become overshadowed by actions that would point towards the opposite of humility. You're no longer the happy-go-lucky person that I know. Because of your circumstance, you've been driven to do things that you're not supposed to. Right now, you feel like you're wretched, like you're a person who's not worthy of anything. And that's why you feel the need to save your self from this predicament.

Noble, but futile. Futile because your ideas for salvation are skewed.

I tried helping you out. But again, you have your own ideas. And at this point, I'll have to stop trying to help you, because I can only do so much. Any more and I will have to abandon my own attempts at saving my own skin, which is something I couldn't do because we're both in need of salvation. It might seem like abandonment, but to be honest, nobody can't really help you beyond what they can afford to provide. You've had help. Hundreds of times. From several people. And yet they never had any effect on you, because you don't believe in their help. You feel like their help is not going to let you achieve the goals that you've set. Our help doesn't agree with your own idea of victory. And that's why you feel so alone right now. Only because you've rejected the hundreds of helping hands that surround you.

Well, who knows. Maybe it's this solitude that might finally give you the answer you've been looking for. Or, at least, force you to look for more practical solutions to your predicament.

Well, either way. I'm not gonna stop you from achieving your dreams. It's your life, after all. I even hope that you can prove me wrong, that, one of these days, you'll finally show us that you actually fit the roles you've been trying to get into these past few years. So I'll step aside and let you do your thing. Maybe all you need is a little space to gather some momentum. Again, who knows?

On the other hand, that's as much help as I can give at this point. Step aside. Since you're so adamant on doing things your way, you'll actually have to do it your way.

Without me.

I'll still be here, no doubt about that. Only as a spectator, no longer an active hand, but still a spectator who's watching intently.

This is your chance to prove me wrong. I'll be watching your every move. Because I care.

Because I'll always be your best friend.

Why I keep standing

I have done so many horrible things in the past, in varying degrees of severity, both to myself and to others. Some were accidental. Others were deliberate. All of them, I totally regret.

I  know there are people who would want to see me burn and drop dead, all because they hate what they know of me. They know me as far as how much I've shown them of myself, and for some of them, I've shown nothing but reasons why I deserve their hatred and contempt. For some, I'm just a victim of the fact that nobody can ever please everybody, since I can't really control how other people see me. But there are others that I have deliberately acted against, in both anger and bouts of stupidity, and to those people, I am totally guilty. Can't say I disagree; I know perfectly well that I am guilty of those sins.

Sometimes, the guilt is enough to drive me up the wall, make me lose sleep, run around and cry my eyes out. I rarely complain, though, since I myself believe that I do deserve chastisement for all of the things that I've done in the past, and if I don't get my due punishment, then at the very least, the mental torment of knowing what I am guilty of should be enough.

But if there's one good thing that has come out of this predicament, it's the realization that I'm still here, pondering and reflecting on my sins.

After all, I consider the guilt brought by these thoughts to be a reminder that I'm still human, that I still have a sound grasp of right and wrong. And right now, I'm still alive, breathing, not only able to look back on my past and reflect on it, but to look forward and see how much road I still have in front of me.

I'm still alive. I still have a long way to go. My journey isn't over, and I can't let a mile of bad decisions define my entire life and my whole identity.

For these reasons, I will continue to stand and live. I will continue to hold on to the idea that my life is promising, that I can still make it and be proud of myself at the end of it all.

To the people that I have inflicted pain upon, I humbly apologize. But I value my life too much to stand idly by and comply with my own destruction.

Nobody deserves that kind of surrender. Not even me.