Confessions

I am not really good at math. As a matter of fact, I suck at it! But, I am very certain that it has exactly been 14 days, 336 hours, and 20160 minutes since my dad passed away - these moments have crossed infront of me, but today still feels like day 1.

The first few days were spent crying both with few special friends, and alone. I am not the type of a person who can easily share my problems with other people. Moreover, as much as possible, I do not allow myself to be seen in public crying, or even just sad; for these are very intimate and private moments of me and I prefer not giving everybody the consent to see them.

No matter how much I want to just stay idle, stare at blank spaces, and curl myself in one corner of my bed, I still struggle to at least regain the smile and the infectious laugh that my closest friends have always known me about.

Tita Carol Teves, mom of a girlfriend, said that when somebody you extremely love passes away, it is when you would feel and understand the real meaning of being heartbroken. And when somene says he/she is heartbroken coz of a break-up is NOTHING, compared to when your heart really gets broken.

Tita Carol's dad passed away ten years ago, and still, the pain and the lonliness is still fresh. To Tita Carol, that 10 years still seems like day 1 to her.

It has been harder for me talking about daddy these days compared to the first few days. Right now, I prefer talking straight to daddy in any way possible, which can pretty much get desperate sometimes.

The man that I am truly inlove with just passed away, and I am left with no choice but to stay in school and finish the remaining two months of the semester. Everyday, I have to fight the thoughts in my mind, and when i felt that I wasn't equipt enough with the optimism capabilities, I resorted to every means I think would be helpful, not even caring whether it is possible or not.

Somehow, it seems like I have very much practiced myself for an automatic mental block. When I start to think about daddy, I just shake my head or close my eyes and count 1 to 3 and before I knew it, I am already thinking about something else. Honestly, I do not know what exactly should I call this: Mental block? Compartmentalizing? Selective Amnesia? I really don't care for now.

Right now, my heart aches so bad that I feel a cardiac arrest would be coming any moment soon. And thinking about cardiac arrests, I question myself right away: "If I die today, would it be daddy that I would see first?" I wish.

I know its unhealthy and wrong, but all my emotions feel so supressed. I chose not to cry until I'm with mommy and kuya niño, not until october 13. I am very much overwhelmed with the love and support that my friends here in Dumaguete are giving me, but I just feel the safest to breakdown in our house, in my own little room, with my family.

Just yesterday, I went to National Bookstore and bought all these materials needed to make a scrapbook. I am not just so sure if this is a smart idea or not, but my scrapbook will be the only tangible way for me to communicate with my father.

People may see me smiling, laughing, wearing colorful shirts; and they might misjudge that as a lack of grief, but what people thinks is seriously not in my list right now. I know that no matter how much happy I may seem to be, my real friends, my family, and most especially my daddy knows that I am heartbroken.