Quarantine f*ck*d up my sleeping schedule

Special Bibingka

The day that I realized that I was not special was the day I found my purpose in life.

Special

I have a great affinity with this word. However, The only special that I love is special bibingka. The balance of the sweetness of the bibika base, the saltiness and umami flavor coming from the salted egg, topping it with coconut flakes drizzled with margarine. This delicacy brings me so much joy and contentment especially when you eat it after simbang gabi.

Some would attribute special to being excellent in a field or others would think it is synonymous to being weird. While others, like the vendors of bibingka would attribute it to an upgraded version of something. However for me the word special is not positive, it is just a word that signifies false hope and praise.

Ever since I was a child, the people around me would often say that I am special and I believe them not knowing that I was not the only one who, they have said that phrase to. Unknowingly, I had come to the conclusion that I would be the definition of the word 'special'.

At the mere age of 6 I strived to be special, to be distinct, to be 1 of a kind, I revolved around this goal for years, I built my personality, my life in the phrase of ' I am special'.

This caused me to have a main lead syndrome, where other people are just stepping stones for me to be special. This caused me to be anxious, to have distrust and to never really form a bond with people. I would often jump from one friend group to another for the sake of fame, power and connections.

In my act of being special, I would often be compared to my cousins who are better than me in academics. At the age of 11, I brought home my report card which contained my grades ranging from 88-95, I remember showing my mom these grades in her office because I was included in the top 10 of our class. However my mom dismissed me and said that my grade of 88 is bad and I was not excellent enough to the point of being given praise. I brushed it off however it left a huge scar on me where after a decade I would even remember her disappointed eyes eyeing my report card.

When I was in 7th grade I was included in a curriculum where the top of the top are selected. I strived to be perfect for my mom however the pressure was too much to the point where suicidal thoughts had been a constant ring in my ears

8th grade came and I was the 1st in our batch, and for the first time I saw my mom smile at me and be proud of me. I felt ecstatic but time passed and my rank became lower. I was still in the top 10 however she was never satisfied with that. I felt like trash like the end of the world is near. This was a huge turning point in my life, I realized my biggest flaw and how it made me become a monster.

I was caught in my own bubble of 'specialness' and was raised up in the sky by the praises of people who called me 'special'. My pea sized brain believed that I was special and the day came and I realized that I was not a little bit special, everything came crashing down and I questioned my mere existence. I doubted my values, my philosophy, my knowledge, I had lost my confidence and started to ask God if I was really born special.

A year passed and I moved on to my 9th grade. I stopped trying, I no longer worked hard for my grades however, I met amazing people. I met my own group of friends. They were like my pillar of hope in my darkest times, unlike before I was able to open up about my family, my struggles. I no longer felt special and I was happy and content. There was no more deceit, No more lies and no more play pretend and never once have I felt anxious about what others perceived me nor have I felt scared of being exposed. I opened up myself to the point that I was transparent to the people I trusted, I had learned the value of trust

I became myself and enjoyed my life while realizing that I am not special, I am not one of a kind. I felt like a child and found the beauty in being a kid who doesn't care about standing out. My days after that were a bliss and thankfully my mom little by little is accepting that I am not special but that I am me.

I am not an upgraded version of a bibingka, nor am I weird or excellent. I am me and it makes me think about how fucked up I was when I was younger. I am still young right now but I was really twisted when I was a kid.

I am happy with my mediocre grades, my loving friends and understanding mother. My other relatives can go rot in hell.