When Venus Was A Young Boy (Ongoing)

03 | the polished exile

03 | the polished exile

As soon as I arrived in my room, I opened my brown dusty cabinet. Linabas ko roon lahat ng mga magagandang damit na nabili ko sa ukay-ukay. As an act of rebellion or defiance, I didn’t take the shirts and pants that my grandparents bought for me. I let them stay there on the metal rack. Nakasukbit sa kanilang metal hanger. I stared at it for a few seconds before sobbing the hell out. Linabas ko na lahat ng luha ko while trying to muffle down my voice. I didn’t want them to hear my weeping state.

I harshly wiped the tears away from my face and heaved three deep breaths of oxygen. I reminded myself that this was just a challenge and it was fucking me up right now because it wanted me to learn. I stayed calm after repeating that mantra over my head.

Narinig ko pa ang mga bulung-bulungan nila sa baba but I chose to dismiss it. I didn’t want to stress myself anymore with things I didn’t have any control with. So instead of fretting over my stress and despair, I winded off my thoughts by folding my shirts and pants. Inilabas ko ang Louis Vuitton luggage that my father bought for me last year pero hindi ko ginamit because I still felt distraught and pained from what he did. He fucking chose a dishonest relationship. An infidelity over his son. That was really something beyond comprehensible for my pain and misery.

Pero wala na akong magagawa. I can’t let my pride kick me out to the fullest dahil wala na akong bag na maganda. I shoved all my clothes there, hoping that magkakasya lahat dahil sa dami ng mga nabili ko.

I heard a knock that interrupted my hurricane of thoughts. Whoever it was on the other side of the door needed to know that I can still barely hold myself for any type of confrontation or whatever drama waiting to burst out from the seams. I just wanted to be alone but the universe was really conspiring against me. I fixed my composure and made sure that my voice didn’t crack or falter.

“Who is it? Omigosh, I want to be alone. Leave the hell out whoever you dare!” I wildly snapped my luggage. I was surprised with the sudden force I exerted. And add the fact that I was still able to be organized after the fuss and distress that had consumed me. I zipped up the luggage and propped it on my bedside table.

“You, bitch! Ako to!” I opened the door as soon as I heard the childish girly voice of Annabelle the fucking ugly doll. Malungkot itong nakatingin sa akin as she softly closed the door behind her. It shut off with a slight thump. “Is it true? You know, what Erna said?”

“Well, can you be more specific?” I used my coaxing baby voice with a tilt on the head. She responded with a cross on her arms and furrowed brows.

“That you will go away na from this house?” She said with water forming on her eyes but her face remained stoic hard. Then I was surprised when she pivoted directly towards me and began to wrap her small arms around. Humagulgol ito. Her wails began to get louder each second. I let her soak my shirt with tears. Stroking her hair, I tried to shush her down.

“Bitch! Don’t cry nga. I will come back. I promise you that. But for now, your Tita needs to go away so she can be happy again. You understand?” I tried so hard to keep my voice strong but it wavered slightly nang tiningnan na niya ako diretso sa mata. Her lips were pouty and dry streaks of tears lined her cheeks.

“Promise me ha! And Tita, pagdating mo rito, you have a boyfriend na that I can play with!” Before I knew it, the dampened mood simmered down and we returned to our playful banters. I hit her slightly on the shoulders and she gave it back with a soft slap on my cheek. “Tita kasi. I am serious. I want to see you with a boyfriend kapag babalik ka na so that you two can adapt me.” She squealed with the thought and the innocent wildish eyes that held her daydream made me wish to pedal back on my childhood years. I just nodded at her impossible request. Hindi naman kasi landi ang gagawin ko sa Maynila. But the thought was nice and cuddly, and it warmed my heart.