The Thing About Us.

The Thing About Acceptance

     If you ask me what would I say to the younger me after some simple time travel, one sentence will not be enough for my answer. Before I actually told him anything, I might do an epic entrance, depending on the timing and circumstances. Maybe a bit of wispy smoke effect. Then I will sit him down and tell him at least three points, and each points more important than the previous ones. 

      First, I will tell him that vegetables are not that nasty, even though it's still kind of nasty. Secondly, I will tell him that going to the gym is not that much of a chore, once he can see how great he is going to look afterwards. 

     And third (and this might be the most important thing I can think of), I will leave the quote from Mark Manson: "Challenge yourself to find the good and beautiful thing inside of everyone. It's there. It's your job to find it. Not their job to show you." for him. I will not elaborate about that, since knowing me, I like to think on my own; plus making the young me feel confused seems like a hilarious idea. Then I will just go poof with a thicker smoke effect after saying the exit line that might benefit me a lot on the present time: "Don't do stuff that make me cringe, young man!" with some echoes. Perfection.

     But come to think of it, knowing me, even if I met some majestic man on his 30th engulfed with majestic smoke in my youth, I wouldn't change. I lost faith in adults and in love long ago, since my first heartbreak.

     My first heartbreak happened when I was 9. I didn't have many recollections about it, and I also didn't know that my heart was breaking. Suddenly, I got to live with only with my father as the guardian. I thought it's great, since I disliked my mother. She was insane. I heard it's because of something called post-partum depression, but I didn't want to think too much into it. I just wanted to run away from her slaps and beatings, or the way I was left on my own in an empty house as I cried. In the end, my insane sister, who is like a copy of Mom lived with us as well, so I guess there was not so much difference. Women were evil at this point of life; blaming abusive behaviors on emotions. It's as if, when you are angry because you think the other person is wrong, you can do anything you want.

     My heart cracked a bit more when I was 15. My insane sister, who has always screamed like a lunatic, beaten me like she has the right to do so, a scum on Earth, sounded totally different when she was calling her boyfriend. Women were hypocritical at this point of life. They will put on a mask to attract men, knowing that if men know about their real selves, they would be single forever. In the end, they got married. Poor guy.

     I remembered how my Dad would respond everytime I said I won't have a girlfriend forever, "You will change your mind when you found someone you love,". But at this point, I was already in a process to swallow the red pill. I scoffed everytime he said that to me.

     As if childhood trauma wasn't enough, another massive heartbreak happened when I was 20. I sat with my back slumped, in front of a man who has been my pillar almost all my lives, with tubes around him which are connected to the machines. The machines became his pillars. No amount of tears shed, no amount of prayers said helped to make this white room warmer. No amount of hopes, no matter how many times I called him brought any miracles. Screw fairy tales, right? After a few days, Mom came in to visit, somewhat brought a bit of colors into otherwise white-coloured room. We had a talk like adults for the first time.

     "Son, do you know why I left your father?"

     "Nope,"

     "It was because he became poor, and I just couldn't stand it,"

     She indeed brought colors in. It was grey. Everything I saw became grey. My ears blocked whatever she was saying after that sentence. Some of the childhood memories I blocked came pouring in, dampening Mom's voice; how Dad was busy working so Mom and sister could beat me up however they liked it. How Dad was a businessman and the business went bankrupt, and cue the divorce. Screw wedding vows, right? It didn't matter if Dad was a good father and husband right? It never mattered. After my Mom left, I ran to the toilet, feeling nauseous. 

     At that point, as I was laying my back on the toilet cubicle's wall, I started to feel numb inside. The numbness I felt wasn't caused by anger. It was acceptance. I started to accept that everything I thought about women has been true. That women are just like this. They just do whatever they want in the name of anger and frustration release. They just hide their bad sides in front of potential mates, and potentially eats the mate's head in the future like praying mantises. Women see guys as they see their overpriced bags and makeup, if it's starting to get boring, just get a new one. Just like monkeys, they reach the next branches--the next men to make them advance forward. This just confirmed everything. Overwhelmed with emotion, I slumped down to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, without any tears left to be spilled. A few months later, the pillars that were holding my Dad were being torn off him.

      The acceptance just helped me to really swallow the red pill whole. F*ck feminism. F*ck being nice to women. The privileges they are having now is the reason why men is being stomped around like this. What went wrong? Is it too much to want to receive love, as much love as men gave? If I was stronger, would I be able to protect Dad from these kinds of women? If I grew up faster, could I prevented Dad from overworking and getting himself into an accident? In an ideal world, my Dad and I would live together, just the two of us, without these evil beings. And if some girls could be nice, why were my friends hurt after dating some of them?

     I spiraled down. Sleeping with as many women as I could, I ended up feeling even more numb. I had the muscles from daily workouts on the gym, girls swooned over me, they wanted to drop their pants for me, but it didn't make me feel better at all. No matter how pretty they were, no matter how good it felt. At times, I couldn't explain why, but the sentence my Dad told me when I was in middle school just kept on repeating itself in my head. I didn't get why, even after being betrayed and hurt like so, Dad still could say such thing. I didn't get why was he still capable of loving even after Mom ate his head and threw him away.

     I ended up looking for something new (because as I have said, I like to learn on my own; and I had nothing to lose anymore) to actually understand what kind of hope my late Dad has been holding on for him to believe that even someone like me would be able to love someone, a woman, as deeply as him. Amongst the results of my research, I discovered the quote that I would've sent earlier if I can travel through time now. 

Challenge yourself to find the good and beautiful thing inside of everyone. It's there. It's your job to find it. Not their job to show you. 

     It's me. It's all me. I was the one who expected women to be such saints. They are humans, too. I have been feeling numb because instead of finding someone nice that I will love myself, I was waiting for some perfect girl from some novel to come and save me. This might be the reason why Dad was so hopeful. Because he saw the sides of Mom which I saw as evil, as her being human. 

     A human who made mistakes. 

     A human who made bad decisions. 

      I ended up releasing everything that brings no benefit to me and focus on putting myself out there and accepting that humans will be humans, while trusting that the woman in front of me won't hurt me, up to this day.

     I smile gently as I see my girlfriend chomping the fries in front of her.

     "What?" asked her, noticing me grinning to myself.

     "Nothing, I just remembered something funny,"

     Dad, you were right. Thank you for everything. I continue smiling as I try to swallow the salad she just stuffed into my mouth. It's nasty, but not so nasty. 

Quote source: Mark Manson's Models: Attract Women Through Honesty