Kahit hindi ko man nakikita, alam kong napupuno ng mga bisita ang aming bulwagan sa baba hanggang sa harapan ng aming mansyon.
It’s my father’s forty first birthday and I haven’t greeted him since he didn’t even try to visit me. At simula kahapon, ay hindi niya pa rin ako pinapayagang lumabas ng kuwarto ko. Dinadalhan lang ako ni Melissa, anak ng isa sa aming mga kasambahay, ng pagkain, o ng kahit anong mga kailangan ko.
My father, Julio Vejara, is the mayor of the whole town of Libmanan in the province of Camarines Sur. Ang sabi ni Melissa, kilala at ma-impluwensiyang tao si papa sa politika. His family, the Vejaras, are one of the families in politics that are part of the political dynasty.
Most of my relatives are involved in politics. Pinagpasa-pasahan ang mga posisyon sa politika. Generation by generation. But I don’t know any of them. I’ve never met any of my relatives, because my father didn’t allow me to meet them. At hindi ko rin alam kung kilala ba nila ako. Hindi ko alam kung alam ba nilang nag-e-exist ako.
Malalaking pamilya ang mga kaibigan ni papa. Lahat nabibilang sa mga mayayamang angkan, at ang iba ay sa politika. Even the most influential politician and famous personalities in Bicol. Kaya sa tuwing may pagdiriwang sa mansyon, maraming tao ang pumupunta. At kapag ganoon, mahigpit niyang ipinagbabawal na lumabas ako ng kuwarto ko. Kaya kahit isang beses ay hindi ko pa nararanasan ang makapunta sa kahit na anong klase ng pagdiriwang. Kahit nga ang lumabas ng mansyon ay hindi niya pinapayagan.
“I am just protecting you, my child. I’m doing this for your own sake. The world is a cruel place. Ayaw kong maranasan mo ang kalupitan ng mundo. You are very precious to me. All I want is to protect you—to keep you away from being harmed. One day, you’ll understand why I’m doing this,” my father once told me when I was twelve years old—when I asked him for permission to let me watch the liga in the centro that Melissa told me about.
I thought it was normal.
Living like this. Staying only at home—being home-schooled—not socializing with other people. I thought it was normal. I grew up believing that this is normal. That having a life like this is normal.
But then, slowly, I started to get more curious. I began wondering and questioning if this was still normal. Ang pagkulong ba sa akin sa mansyon na ito ay proteksyon ko ba talaga? Proteksyon para saan? Sa magulong mundo? Like what my papa has told me? But if the world outside is such a cruel place, bakit parang mukhang masaya naman sila? Bakit mukha naman silang nag-e-enjoy? Habang ako ay tila miserableng nakakulong lang sa mansyon na ito.
“Ma-suwerte ka, Seleste, dahil maganda ang buhay mo. Mayaman ka. Nakakapag-aral ka kahit nandito ka lang sa mansyon. Nakakakain ka ng masasarap na pagkain. Ang gaganda ng mga sinusuot mo. May mga nagsisilbi pa sa’yo. Ang swerte-swerte mo. Gusto ko rin ng ganyang buhay.”
I stared at Melissa as she said those words. I was grateful for the life that my father has given me. But…is this how am I supposed to live my life?
I have a shelter. I have a good life. I have everything I needed…but why do I feel like there is something missing? Not that I’m being ungrateful…but I feel like I’m trapped. I feel suffocated. I feel like this isn’t...life. I feel like I’m destined to be something else...to be somewhere else...
Bumangon ako mula sa pagkakahiga. Ibinaba ko ang aking mga paa sa sahig at marahang humakbang. Barefoot, I went to the vintage, gold gilt ornate oval framed mirror in my bedroom.
I sat on the brown ottoman in front of the mirror and look at my own reflection. I’m wearing my white lace, vintage victorian nightgown—the most comfortable garment I want to wear all the time.
