Angel Eyed (DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)

twenty

Despite that, I missed her. I missed them. It’s been a year since I last saw my parents, and our last meeting wasn't necessarily emotional. My mother was lecturing me about my books and how I should focus more on textbooks, and my father was calming her down. If it wasn't for Angel, they would've stayed longer. I was glad they didn't stay longer. I was already losing my shit over finals and I didn't need my mother's wonderful judgements about how I should live my life. Bill hasn't met them yet, but I told him stories and he always told me I was so hard on my parents and that I never gave them the chance to be close to me. That's where he was wrong. I’ve always tried to be close to them on several occasions. I’ve tried for years before they sent me to L.A to master Math. I never really got around succeeding over the matter and by now I’ve just accepted the fact.

Karen was too stiff, and Anthony was too estranged. As hard as it was to accept, I never had the privilege to share things with them like what other people do to their parents. Even when I was getting bullied on a daily basis in elementary school, I kept it all in me where no one would see. Not that they would care anyway, I was practically invisible in sixth grade. Nobody paid attention, nobody listened. It was petty, but in group practices I was always the only one who didn't have a partner and as a mortified prepubescent girl those were one of the tough things I was offered. The sad thing was; I only realized I didn't have any friends when my classmates asked me to just quit school because I wasn't any good. The girls weren't any better; at lunch when I’m minding my own business in one table they’d purposely sit in front of me and tell me to leave like it was nothing.

Like I was nothing. Like I was a piece of dirt for people to just dump in the trash when they like it. That was how I feel right now. That was the epitome of what I am right now, that was how Bill made me look like while he was saying those things to my face. Shit. I never thought those words would ever come out of his mouth in the duration that we were friends, but then again; neither did I thought he'll ever fall in love with me, but he still did anyway.

Back then loneliness was such a natural thing for me, it became a necessity. But out of everything I could never lie to myself, as much as I tried to pretend I was happy, it just wasn't working and I would always find myself in the same position; sobbing into the corner of the library with my head buried in my arms. I was in the same exact position five years ago as I was now; slumped against bookshelves with my knees against my chest while I exhausted myself from crying. Suddenly I was back in sixth grade; lonely, desperate and friendless. Mom had no idea until the day came the guidance counselor called her over to find my twelve year old face stained with tears and phlegm because of crying too much. When I met Bill I thought I would never return to such a state.

Yet there I was, wiping part of my face with my wrist, not bothering to mute my audible sobs.

Of course they weren't all like that. There were a few good souls who didn't take me for granted and I would never forget about them. I blocked out most of the miserable experiences I had in the Philippines, but I would never ever forget about one specific person who didn't make me feel like shit. This one guy. I never really got his name, but I felt like I knew him despite never seeing him in my life before. He wasn't even a filipino and as a child of a third world country, I hear a lot of elderly people warning kids about foreign strangers, I never listened to them of course.

It was one unfortunate day that my classmates found a liking to kicking me out my lunch table again and I ended up crying on the library for the hundredth time. I made a mistake of thinking I was alone the entire time I was wheezing like a baby behind some bookshelves. I don't even think he approached me purposely; he was just looking for some books, but he did anyway. He crouched down to me and asked me if I was okay, his arms piled with leather bounds. Obviously I wasn't okay and I didn't answer; my hiccups were getting the best of me. He was the only person to ask me such a question after months of suppression and hiding my true feelings. Instead of being humiliated, it felt good to finally show someone how I really felt like and how I’ve really been because I could never tell Karen.