Isla Haraya: Maria (Published under IMMAC)

Chapter 2: Voices and Reasons

Trigger warning: May contain sensitive topics such as death, sex, profanity, suicide, self-harm, drugs, alcohol, mental health, sexuality, etc. Please be guided accordingly and read at your own risk.

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Ever since I started to live alone, a lot of things changed—my relationship with my parents and friends, my habits, and my plans. There was a sense of freedom that washed over me and it was the kind that I never had when I was younger, chained by the stress and the pressure brought upon by the demands that my family had set out for me. It was not as if we were a family of overachievers nor were we a bunch of geniuses, which was why I could not understand the sudden need for all the titles, labels, and status.

That was one of the reasons why it became pretty exhausting to attend any family reunion, event, dinner, whatever—no one was trying to make conversation or any attempt to catch up with anyone. Those gatherings were mostly a venue for the older people's petty agenda, where they would just try to one-up each other, bragging about anything they could in their way of making sure that they have made everyone feel like absolute crap and everyone was intimidated of how well-accomplished they are...even if they really were not.

And that is not even the sad part.

What was sad and frustrating was that the older ones would rely on us—their children, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren—to achieve all those goals for them to brag about. And that put a lot of stress on the younger generation to do better and we got forced to make decisions that we did not want but it would make our parents and our families happy.

It might be a bitter pill to swallow but I would be lying if I said that those were not true.

"Your Tita Roberta has been asking about you for the past week if you would be attending the family reunion tomorrow," Nanay said in that usual rushed yet gentle tone as if she was trying to persuade me by using speed.

I let out a soft sigh, glancing at my phone in front of me which was lighting up every now and then. "And what did you tell her?" I asked even though I already knew that she had already sold my soul and told everyone that I would be there.

"Well, I told her that I would ask you but you do not have work on weekends anyway. Why? Don't you want to go ba?" She tilted her head to the side, looking at me with those eyes that never failed to make me feel guilty for even thinking of saying "no".

Pressing my lips together, I thought of being honest and telling her what I really had on my mind—that I did not want to go to another family reunion only to be asked if I would ever be married or if my career was going anywhere. I was tired of that.

In my twenty-six years, a good portion of it was spent listening to my aunts ask my older cousin the same questions they were asking me the moment I turned twenty, and I wasted six years giving them half-assed or sarcastic answers because how the hell should I know the answers to any of it?

"Don't you miss your cousins and your aunties, ha?" Nanay added, adding more force to the guilt that was already starting to nibble on my stomach. The way she looked at me was familiar. It was the same look she used whenever I tried to get out of family trips or whenever I said I had an outing with friends—she was staring me down into choosing what she wanted me to choose.

With a soft grunt, there was no other way out but to give in. Despite being an adult, there was no way that I could argue my way out of that look and that tone. For their sanity, I just needed to agree. After all, I had years of experience. "Fine," I begrudgingly answered. "Where would it be and what do I need to bring?" I asked as I opened my phone to check their profiles in the hopes of catching a glimpse of what trends and interests my relatives had at that moment, which could help me figure out what I could bring to the gathering.