STRONGER NOW

CONVICT

Fear is one the most controversial enemy that most people talk about. They would even get so emotional when they would speak about it, particularly how they had become a steward of it, and how they lifted themselves up and be the boss of it. It is also being described as the darkest place to go through. And, the wildest among dream snatchers that you could ever experience to deal with.

I have been with my fears ever since I was just a little kiddy child. So sick of living in the dark room with my own self as my only companion, my trustee, my secret keeper and most of all the same shoulder I could cry on. That was the only thing I could do for me, to have myself as my only company. Those were the times when I was hit by one of my biggest fear that the first and last resort that I could do was to keep me safe. Safe, while my family was bombarded by indescribable consecutive quarrelling and fighting. Safe, while my future was disrupted just so easily by adultery, debt, brokenness, and gasping gossips.

Adultery. I had a lot of moments of which I suffered great longings and crave for a mother's face, care, kiss, and embrace. Those were the moments when I could not expect something from someone I had been crying for every night. Those were the moments where I knew she was working so hard to send money and support our family's necessities while blinded. She thought we were spending it on good but unknowingly not. She was sending money while my father was busy spending it with girls. But I chose to hide all of those because I was afraid of something far more destructive and irreconcilable results.

Debt. Those were times when I had to get to school while aggressively thinking that I had to graduate as early as possible because my mom was sick of crying secretly every night because of her protesting accounts in the banks. Those were the accounts that made her into an overtime hand wash laundry woman. There were even times when my mom had to wash till night for a bigger pay. And, every time she would come late at night, it was expected that I had spent the whole time crying in desperation while waiting for her. And when I would see her coming in the way, I would always run to her for a firm embrace. The thinking that my education became a hindrance for me to help my mom. That almost drowned me to the deepest part of my sad cognitions and made me mentally destructed, I supposed. I knew she didn't have to do that but I think she'd been thinking for the bigger possibility that was at stake and which would be at risk if she would stop.

Brokenness. I always hear this word with people who had broken up with their loved ones. However, for me, I never once heard it out from my mouth even for a single moment. I never once shouted it before silence and even at dark places I'd been. I didn't because I thought it would be more hurtful. Hurtful to say in front of my very own reflection that I was starting to go weak, and more hurtful, that the statement I might be able to say will conclude for my fiasco. So I stayed quiet with my mouth firm in midst of almost chained and got nailed on the ground where I thought my pieces will totally fall apart and scatter for all my lifetime.

I was a very happy child way back in 2006, you could see me laughing almost all the time. But sadly, happiness and goodness do not have the same mother.

You can always laugh, smile and wave when someone would say "Hi" even at times of your brokenness. That is happiness. The kind of happiness that dictates the wideness of your smile, the vigor of your hand wave, and the loudness of your laugh.

Goodness is far way different. Goodness is something that demands an independent happiness. That you could laugh even when no one is making you laugh; that you could wave to the world, though no one asked you to do so; that you could smile even when you're just facing your waving reflection. That is independent happiness. The kind of happiness I was deprived to have.

I was nine years old when I get to experience the feeling of brokenness that almost parched my heart and left my eyes empty of tears to cry. For every night was a solemn night. Nights when I could not just sleep because I was not yet done crying and making my pillow wet with my longing tears. That I would even wish in my dreams that the next morning I would wake would be delighting. But when I woke up, still the morning I wish not to get up with. And every time in my way to school I made sure I already had funny jokes to tell my classmates and funny face portrayals to show to them so when they would laugh, they would make me laugh too. I did those every day. Yes! Every day. And little did I know I became dependent for my happiness because I had nothing to do with my broken self.

For years, I suffered it all selfishly. I didn't want to share it. Simply because, my fear was consuming me, little by little. That every time I would look at my mirror, I saw me dying. In short, I ran out of hope. However, in my years of existence, time taught me a lot. It didn't show me something to cling on while hopelessly broken but it proved me three lessons. These three lessons where unnoticeable until I applied them unknowingly. These made me realized time is the most secretive element in the universe. And part of its secrets in my life are these three lessons. Lessons that made me proud of being a convict of all nuisance.