Expectation is such a sad word. It has always been a ball and chain firmly bound around my ankles; a burden I’ve been dragging around my entire life. I mean sure, hundreds of medals adorned cute little Mike’s neck during his pre-school, and grade school days but one must understand that things change and I certainly am not exempt to that; I never believed in permanence in the first place. The outpour of commendations and citations which I enjoyed during those days slowed down to a trickle…to almost a virtual halt in high school-I mean sure, there were the occasional quiz bee championships won and the awards praising my above average GPA but people expect so much more of me it’s almost sickening. Expectation obliges you to be something that you are not, something you CAN’T be. It makes me feel like I’m being shoved into a cocoon against my will, forced into a controlled environment where I could be put into exhibit and be watched closely, being waited upon to metamorphose gloriously into something I’m not.
What did I ever do to deserve such high expectations? Why do people flash leery grins when they see me do something which is generally bad like smoking or engaging myself in an alcohol binge? Yes I am human, sue me. In fact I’ve been living it up with my friends the past few days which explains why my journal hasn’t been updated while It was my resolve to have daily entries. And no, I am not just the boy next door with the effervescent smile who greets you good morning on your way to work. Sue me. And no, sir, I am not a saint; I have spent nights in sleazy hotels and engaged in wild animal sex a couple of times. Sue me. Had enough? No? Don’t worry, there’s more; I have engaged in random acts of misdemeanor; I drink and drive and I count two instances wherein I crashed my car because I was an irresponsible little fuck driving under the influence. I smoked marijuana for a while too. Sue me. In fact, sir, sue me for being human.
The sad thing about this drivel is that shadows of all these false steps would someday come back and haunt me. And I fear that when they do, I will be looked down upon; and I will hit myself over again for not being transparent; for making her see a visage that I want her to see while hiding my ugly self in the process. I fear that I’ll lose someone whom I care for so much because I cannot live up to her expectations; that I can’t be the person she expects me to be.
Have you ever felt like you had no purpose? I’ve always believed that I am a transient speck of dust that gracefully moved with the wind and bowed to its powerful will. Today however, everything felt different. I felt like the wind ceased to blow, refusing to move me and forcing me to a stale. Recently, I’ve decided to rekindle my passion for art as a means to make myself believe that I am not living my life in shades of pale grays; to make myself believe that my existence isn’t bland and feckless.
Today I was aimlessly wandering around the city that I called home for 18 years of my life and I couldn’t help but feel a little void inside of me. The place seemed to love me less; as if it’s brutally reproaching me for letting the world wait around me while I continue to falter and lose ground; while I allowed myself to be overweening. The neon lights didn’t glow as lively as before, the monotonous drone of the street resounded irritatingly hollow in my ears and the populace seemed generally dejected.
I wish I could take flight and make the sun punctuate the day in wonderful splendor; I wish I could paint sky’s canvas to be beautiful again. I wish I could find my little niche in the former paradise that grew tired of me. I wish I could find my purpose.
I woke up today with the pleasant rays of the sun caressing my face. It’s summer time here in Manila as I write this entry but the past few days have been cloudy- As if the weather’s deliberately trying to reflect my mood. I’m very much thankful for the fact that at least I have one commiserating friend in the form of the weather and I feel like I need to express my gratitude and reciprocate by feeling a little “sunny” myself today…and I have very good reason to be.
When I woke up I came to the realization that being depressed and dispirited is a very unproductive way to spend the fleeting days of my summer. I have received a lot of pep-talk from friends whom I refused to listen to-nobody ever listens to pep talk when they’re depressed; it’s just a formality and a gesture of sympathy…feigned or otherwise, that I just can’t appreciate. Although I cannot say that the emotional injuries that I sustained (which I realized just now, were self-inflicted) are now totally healed, I can say that I’ve started to recuperate.
Mike "Fucking" Villar
"a Manila-based blogger made famous by his Atrocities of Friendster series, a regular feature he publishes on his blog where he mercilessly criticizes and mocks pictures of ugly people he stumbles upon on popular social networking site, Friendster. Although a lot of people are offended by what he writes, long-time readers of his blog regard him as a brilliant satire writer."
-Taken from my WikiBios page
