One Way Ticket

I'm *That* Person

Just when you thought I couldn't possibly say or do anything that would make you despise me more than you already do.
but
The other day I suddenly found myself relating to Ariel from A Little Mermaid — "Wouldn't you think I'm the girl? The girl who has everything?.......But who cares, no big deal, I want more!" — or rather, "less" as many have insisted it is. What would a London Girl with a perfect life like me want to do with a dirty, polluted place like Tondo, they say.

Well,

Up where they walk, up where they run,
Up where they stay all day in the
(Philippine!) sun
Wanderin' free
Wish I could be part of that world.

Spoilt. Ungrateful. Call me what you will. Call me what I am. But I know one thing's for sure. Home is where my heart is, and a place which, sure, has running hot water and cool foreign accents but without all the people, the joy, the aura of Raxabago Street, Tondo, Manila sure doesn't feel like home. Compared to what I have now, I had close to nothing back home. So why is it that it always felt like so much more?

Maybe I am blinded by nostalgia. Possibly an experience somewhat kindred to Carol Rumens' The Emigrée I suppose. Albeit, I'll admit my ego and pride may have also had a part to play. It's just that I never normally care about anything. Harbouring a completely nonchalant attitude to all shizzle. My passions may only last a couple of days at max. I'm always too indecisive, and I treat commitment like a rabid dog treats water. Meaning one day, I totally dream of becoming an astronaut, and the next, I aspire to be one of those people with the picky-uppy sticks that clear litter from the streets. Or one minute, I'm a diehard fan of The Beatles, and then I feel like the 60s just ain't my vibe. And that's why I don't really have strong opinions on anything anymore. It's hard to say I have a favorite anything. But when I do truly care about something, I CARE. I'm like a female dog with a bone, a bone thats been tightly gripped in her mouth for a lil over ten years now - and this bitch ain't letting go of it.

My life is a collection of catch 22s (that really I've brought on to myself. By that, I mean perspective. Perspective. It's all about perspective.) And somehow I always seemed to find myself knowingly looking from every wrong angle, but couldn't bring myself to actually move to a better view. Example? For one, I can't help but feel guilty for being unhappy, all the while feeling guilty to be happy as well. There are so many people who would kill to have even a taste in the day of the life I'm living. I'm lucky and blessed to have a roof over my head, food to eat everyday and a loving family who cares for my every need and a whole lot more. I have everything a girl should ever need or want, yet I can't even be bothered to smile. And don't get me wrong; it's beyond words to explain how thankful I am to be me, to be blessed with a life like this. But I suppose that has got to be so hard for anyone to believe since I don't do a very good job showing it. Especially since, you may think, if I truly were as appreciative as I claim to be, then clearly I would realise how amazing life here is and I would completely forget about home, or at least not crave it so much or disregard everything my parents have done for me, right? But we all know life is never that simple. (Well, I mean in this case it kinda is- I should literally just suck it up and be thankful without the "but", so I can stop annoying everyone about this whole "home" thing which is all I ever seem to talk about to you guys, but I am me, and with me there's always a big But.) Sure, I shouldn't care what people think, but showing appreciation for the sacrifices which those who love me have had to endure just so I didn't have to go through the hardships they faced growing up how they did, so they could build a better future for me, is the least I could do to thank them. Yet, all I do is complain, complain, complain. So why don't I just suck it up, show my gratefulness and be happy? Because as I said, even that makes me guilty too. And that links on to my second 'dilemma' which really doesn't need to be a dilemma in the first place, and is really just down to me being an overdramatic brat again. First world problems, eh? See, I have this notion that I've wedged into my brain that I'm somehow betraying my family back home for being happy without them. For some strange reason, I assumed that I play just as big a part in their lives as they do in mine. What must they think of me? I'm out here livin da life and if they were in my position, they would be so damn happy, but still I whine. So then I remember that to them, I'm probably just that one annoying, lucky biatch of a cousin that got to move near Harry Potter's home town, who keeps blabbering on about her delusion that life is better in Manila and won't move on or just get over it already. Because while my life practically halted, (sounds corny (because it is) but in all these years, I refused to let myself make any true connection with anybody, because I convinced myself those spaces in my heart were reserved only for the people back home) naturally, their life continued on without me, and so it should have, because I am not the center of this universe and I don't make them happy in the same way they make me...they grew up, they made their friends, they lived their life and smiled through everything. Each moment I kept telling myself...just be patient, just another year or two and you can live your life together again, just like before, like nothing has changed; surely, you'll seamlessly fit back in - surely, you won't have missed that much. Meanwhile, here I am, 27 days before my sixteenth birthday, and all the cousins I used to play hide and seek with seemingly just yesterday are either now in college, married and/or have children. But I haven't changed one bit (well physically I got a lil chubbier since '07) - I wish I could be more mature, mentally, but I'm still stuck in the mindset of my five year old self. So now I'm in between again. I don't fit in here. In London. Because I've always managed to isolate myself. Sure, I have friends; or rather, fellow human beings I happen to hang out with sometimes. But as I said, no actual true connections. Not a single soul I can truly trust. Except maybe....well I can't forget to mention the people I've met in London that have made my time here worthwhile through the years. There's A who I've known since she was 7 months old, from whom I have suffered many a bite and scratches though will nonetheless forever be my innocent little A; S, N and my fellow sponge R - the seasoning, the spices, the herbs to my secondary school life (which I may or may not have just said because you may or may not be currently reading this and also bc I'm hungry for KFC at the moment...also guys, don't forget about #RT21 !!); M, who I barely know and have only recently met but I could say is the cherry on top that made life seem not too bad for a lil bit and could one day be a great friend (think that may be one sided though, but I'm still glad my life involved you somehow at some point). Actually, I'm not too fond of cherries, M can be a strawberry instead. So to You and all the other berries, herbs and spices to this life, thank you for the flavour, the sweet taste I'll never forget.

But I don't fit in back home either. Because again as I've said, they've moved on with their own lives and despite people telling me that oh, they're all the same — they still play like children, and even act like children all the time! A visit back home last year felt like I was re-meeting them, as if I was introducing myself to new people altogether. There was something missing. It all seemed the same. But as Taylor Swift once sung, "all I know since yesterday, is everything has changed". I just feel like I've lost my place and don't know where to fit. Not quite Filipino, not quite British. "You left when you were very little; you don't truly understand; you're not truly Filipino; you're not one of us." // "You eat rice with a spoon and fork?!; you can't go out tonight because your strict Asian parents didn't let you?; stop pronouncing Z like "zee", you're not American, it's "zed"; you're not one of us."

***

I could go on for hours about how much I loved those five years. Nostalgia is a funny feeling. It's bittersweet. It's kinda like Spicy Korean Instant Ramen. Tastes so good, leaves you wanting to come back for more, but burns the hell outta your tongue each time. In a sense, I think nostalgia is a kind of grieving - grieving for the lost, happy memories which are just that - memories. The past. At the end of the day it's on me for purposely pressing that one big pause button of life. Of course, the logical step would be to just hit play again, but I guess I am too driven by emotion. The heart of a temperamental five year old inside the body of a hormonal adolescent, who in their temper tantrums, mood swings and what not, threw life out of the window. Now I'm stuck.

And I know I have been ungrateful. Arrogant. Delusional. Naïve. A pain in the ass to manyyy. And likely the butt of many jokes about *that* one girl.

I'm sorry.

There's always an abundance of catchy little song lyrics to relate to, so now I turn to Ingrid Michaelson, 'cause "all I can do is keep breathing..." or Dory on Finding Nemo; "Just keep swimming! Just keep swimmin' !" I guess we just gotta keep moving forward. What else can we do? The Earth only revolves around the Sun in one direction. DeLoreans don't actually bring you back to the past or future. Clocks only go clockwise. We gotta stop looking back at the past; we can't change that. Nor can we look too much into a future that may never even happen. So all we can do is focus on the here and now. Treasure every moment while it lasts. Don't just survive, thrive. Live. Live in such a way that you die without regret. Live like there's no tomorrow.