300 Days

Chapter 4

"I want this charity to focus on providing street kids their needs for education. Can you provide me a demographic profile by next week?" I was busy with putting up the charity na wala na kong time para malungkot. This is good. Pag dating ko sa bahay matutulog na lang ako sa sobrang pagod.

"Yes Miss Ja, I'll tell our people right away."

"Thank you." I uttered at my secretary as she walk out of the office.

I was about to rest my head on the table when my phone rang.

Shit.

"Hello?"

"Hello girl! Free ka ba bukas?"

"Chen?" I looked at my schedule and sighed. "Yeah, I'm free. Why?"

"Yon! May date kasi kami ni Banz bukas, eh kaso may pa-charity work si Mommy eh! Is it okay if you take my place instead?"

"Sure. No problem. Anong charity ba 'yan?"

"It's for people with congenital heart disease. Text ko na lang sa 'yo saan 'yung ospital ha?"

"Sige."

"Thank you girl! Labyu! Bye!" And then she hung up.

I was aware na laging may charity work ang Mom ni Chen, they're doctors so I think it's totally understandable that all their charities are medical related ones.

I suddenly remembered the guy from the hospital.

Hanggang ngayon hindi maalis sa isip ko kung seryoso ba sya sa mga nakikita nya sa akin o chinacharot nya lang lang. Cause honestly I don't wanna believe that someone is actually paying attention to that kind of small detail.

My eyes talk my ass.

I rest my palm on my right chest, trying to feel my heartbeat at naramdaman ko naman 'yun.

Humihinga ako. Tumitibok ang puso ko. My mind is working pero bakit ganon? Bakit taliwas sa ginagawa ng katawan ko ang nararamdaman ng utak ko? I feel so dead. So empty and I just don't know what the hell is this hole inside me na kahit kelan ay hindi na napunan.

I closed my eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

I only have 297 days.

Siguro naman hindi na masama kung sususlitin ko na lang ang sakit na 'to.

I pull my sleeves up and saw the cuts I have on my wrists. These cuts weren't done because I want to die. I just want to divert the pain I'm feeling inside my head.

These wounds heal, but my the wounds I have in my mind doesn't.

I trace my scars with my fingers. Ito ang rason kung bakit hindi ako nagsusuot ng sleeveless o tshirt. Ang dahilan bakit ako laging naka-jacket o naka long sleeves. I can't afford anyone to see me with my scars.

Sa mata ng lahat, isa akong masayang dalaga. Ako 'yung matalino at matapang na babae. I've disappointed myself enough. I can't afford to disappoint other people too. Kahit sa totoo lang, hindi naman ako matapang, duwag ako. Mahina ako, this illness is slowly killing me down to my soul and draining everything I have. Only I can bear this suffering, wala akong karapatang humingi ng tulong sa iba dahil sino ba ako?

I have lots of people na nag-sabing kapag kailangan ko raw sila ay pede ko silang kausapin, but then when it comes down o it, no one will actually come to my aid. They're all busy making excuses. I can't blame them thoughy, hindi naman nila ako responsibilidad. Sarili ko lang ang may respsonsibilidad sa akin at kahit nga ako ay gusto ko nang sukuan ang sarili ko, ibang tao pa kaya? I can't have myself troubling anyone for someone as worthless as me. Hindi ko kayang gawin 'yun.

I'm too scared to ask for help.

Nakakatakot mag-open up sa kahit na kanino only to hear things like, 'ang simple ng problema mo, ako nga,' or 'depress ka na sa ganon?', or worse—'ang arte mo.'

Yes, the issues we have may seem trivial to you but that's exactly the point. This illness seems to amplify every simple bad thing that is happening to us. Hindi kailangan ng mga tulad ko ang mapang-husgang mundo na kagaya nito. It's not like there's someone out there who can and will understand though. Masyadong magaling mang-husga ang mga tao.

Magkakaiba tayo ng pain tolerance, ang maliit na bagay sa iba ay maaring malaking bagay sayo, or vice versa kaya hindi ko maintindihan kung saan nila nakuha ang karapatang i-invalidate ang nararamdaman naming pati na rin ang pain na dinadala ng tulad ko. Minsan talaga napakahina ng ulo ng tao.

I shook my head and get out of the office to go home. May charity pa nga pala akong gagawin bukas.

"Thank you for coming Ja." I smiled at Tita Ven and kissed her cheek.

"Wala po yun Tita, I'm happy to be here po." She hugged me gently.

"Here's the room number of the patient you'd go to. I figured you'll get along dahil magka-edad kayo. Dapat sana nandito rin sya sa venue kaso medyo nanghihina sya dahil nagka-problema ang heart rhythm nya kahapon. Ikaw na ang bahala sa company nya ha?" Kinuha ko 'yung small paper na binigay sa akin ni Tita.

"Sige po Tita. I'm got this po." I said and smiled.

Room 314

I wonder what the person is like...

Nagbukas ang elevator and I walked out of it to look for the room written on the piece of paper.

"Ito, room 314." I knocked on the door twice pero walang sumagot. "I'm coming in." I said and entered the room only to find a familiar guy sitting on the bed with and oxygen in his nose and dextrose on his left hand staring at the window as the sun started setting. He suddenly looked at me and flashed a smile.

"Yo!"

DISCLAIMER: The things that are written here aren't put on this page for you to do it on yourself. Your life is valuable. You are loved. You are important.

National Center for Mental Health Crisis Hotline can be reached through the following numbers:

0917-899-USAP (8727)
0917-989-8727

It's okay not to be okay. You are not alone.