Epigraph and Quintessence (STATION Series #4)

Kabanata 9

Kabanata 9

Engagement

The brief happiness that I had after meeting the green-eyed man was immediately disregarded by the preceding event—the engagement.

I stared at my face that is molded into a defeated state. With the wide, circular mirror accompanied by the bright light bulbs, I couldn't help feeling miserable. Kahit gaano karaming kadesperadahan ang umaapaw sa aking sistema, hindi ko pa rin nagawa ang nararapat—ang itigil ang engagement na 'to.

If I were to have a chance to stop it, my mother would immediately disapprove. It would sink my already-sunken esteem deep into the void.

Paulit-ulit na lumalapat sa mukha ang iba't ibang kagamitan upang buhayin ang namamatay na sistema. Ilang oras na akong nakaupo sa harap ng maliwanag na ilaw habang pinanonood kung paano takpan ng imperpeksyon sa aking mukha.

Whenever my mother has a chance to visit the work of the makeup artist, her face would always look passive which is normal. Palagi namang gano'n ang tingin niya sa 'kin. Kung hindi namamahiya ay nambabalewala.

"You should wear this," she said and flashed the woven fabric that symbolized elegance and glamour. The golden sparkles and form of richness were immediately avoided by my skin.

Pinanood ko kung paano isuksok ni Mommy ang itim na guwantes sa aking kamay. Nang lumayo siya at awtomatikong pumorma sa simangot ang kan'yang labi.

"It doesn't fit." Umalis siya sa pwesto. "Savannah, remove the gloves."

I nodded and removed the gloves she made me wore. Malungkot ko iyong tiningnan bago maingat na ipinatong sa kaharap na puting lamesa.

I didn't like how it rubbed against my swollen heart. Tuwing sinusuot ko ang bagay na hindi naman ako, hindi ko mapigilang maawa sa sarili.

Why? Why do I have to be this way? Why does she have to be this way? Why is she my mother?

With all of the questions that would endlessly drown me into misery, I chose to be silent. I knew it wouldn't matter. As long as she implies the utopia towards my throat, I won't have a chance to break free from her rules.

Do not be imperfect, that's what she keeps on saying. I want to tell her what I feel—that I hate how she made me dress so pretty but made me feel so bad at the same time.

Attending those luxurious gatherings with gold and glamour dancing through the air as her prying eyes ridiculing me, the tug of her lips revealing a mockery, and her demeanor reeking of hostility towards my imperfection kept on tiring me.

Paulit-ulit na lang pinaiintindi sa 'kin ni Mommy na hindi ako perpektong tao. That I have a lot of steps ahead of me before I reach the zenith—the perfection she implied.

I know I'm far from that. I know I can't be like her—perfect and all, elegant and all. I am not her. I have no guts to be. I have no will to be. But seeing how she makes me feel worse? How she makes me feel so little for myself? I couldn't help being questionable about my existence.

Am I worth all of the things that surround me? Ako ba talaga ang problema? Sobra ba talagang laki ng pagkukulang ko?

The endless struggle of my belief with the influence of my mother's mind corrupted me.

I could never be the same again for I could only be broken and broken in the process. With an endless cycle of questions, the ridiculing of myself, and all the things to hurt me, it made me wonder—is this the worst? Or should I be expecting a lot of things to come?

I heard the door closing; it signaled me to let out a sigh. The makeup artist looked at me worriedly, I only gave her a sigh.

I've been trying my best to look good with the outputs that the hired makeup artists created. The artists are satisfied yet my mother... my mother with her oh-so-high standards isn't fazed by their work.