theescapewriter

Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

Words by Valerie Joy Decrepito

I shall keep the words

You once said to me.

They will be all that I have left

Of you.

You will never amount to anything,

You say.

(I could probably use this against you,

Someday.)

I used to always think

You were superior.

But unluckily,

My thoughts are always

Better than the truth.

Your almost-rotten body lies

Lower than the grave of the

Gallows-maker.

(Bless your heart,

I say.

Bless your heart for

I pity you strongly.)

 

You are constantly

Quick to judge

But you always forget…

“Even the damned books

Have intricate eyes, my dear.”

You remain devouring

Sour grapes that might’ve

Gone bad already,

Because you’d rather eat them

Than your own words

Which will probably cause

Your very demise.

Someday, you’ll see through your own web of lies and realize I wasn’t the reason why you aren’t with your own son. Someday, you’ll be forgiven by all those people you have shunned because you envy them. Someday, you will realize that no one will be there for because you have never been there for anyone. Someday, you’ll admit that I was already somebody even when you were a nobody. Someday, you’ll hate all the good things I’ve done for you and your family and you’ll realize that the person you really hate is no one but yourself. Someday, my dear, someday, you’ll love and thank me for finally  proving you wrong.

P.S.

I figured this is a safe place for me to write about someone who I once respected and won’t ever respect again in my life. Thank you for making me the center of your life for over a year now. I haven’t been thinking about you, but you would never stop talking about me with  your peers and family. Without you, I would never be as strong as I am now.

And yes, I am talking about my witch of an aunt.

April 30, 2013 – 11:38 pm (MOSTLY INCOHERENT BUT I HAD TO WRITE ELSE I’LL GO CRAZY. HAHA)

As I was browsing through random pages on the Internet, one thought came to mind.

“Why do we live?”

Do we live just to die in the end? Or is it more than that?

Have you ever really wondered what will become of our selves several decades from now? As for me, I would probably find someone to call my own family if I won’t become an old maid with a dozen cats to lull me to sleep every night. Or I could be more than that.

I have done many things in the past. I don’t even remember most of them. I just remember being this curly-haired girl in her prep class who cried because she didn’t know who to play with in recess. I was this sickly girl in fourth grade who had her mom visit her at school during lunch time because she needed her medicine to be injected through the nose. I was a pimply sixth grade without stage parents who would do anything to guarantee their children’s position in the honor roll. I was just a shy student who got in a mixed students section in her first year high school. I’m pretty sure I have done more than that. 

Oh, yes, I have done more than that.

I met my best friend for fifteen years in first grade. I was judged in fifth grade for certain things I didn’t even know I was doing but I got through that. I won in the first poem I have written publicly in sixth grade because my homeroom teacher rooted for the underdog. I gained a lot of friends who can count on me and who I could count on in high school. I went to the (best) university in the Philippines even if I wasn’t one of the popular smart kids who teachers picked to enter academic contests in secondary school. I entered an organization (UP ERG) which has taught me to become a thinker and a doer. And yes, I have been doing more than that. 

I went to Canada (with my family), totally oblivious to everything that is different, and tweaked the composition of what was me. I have gone a long way from the past me who would cower in front of a crowd, from the past me who would be afraid to stand up for what is right, and from the past me who would choose to just be a wallflower. Right now, I try in my best abilities to be seen in a crowd of looming giants. I speak my mind regarding matters that are of concern to me. I have chosen to be someone who is heard and who is followed by her peers because she is making a difference. I have gone a long way.

And then I realize, I was already more than that. 

I am quite certain that life has the means to its end but will that ever be a risk in living life? Why we ever live in the first place has nothing to do with death. Death is a physical end. Life doesn’t end there. We are not the same person everyday. We mature to become better (or worse) versions of yesterday. May we be better or worse today does not dictate what we will be in the morrow.

People don’t live just to die.

Then, why do we live?

People live to experience what this world has to offer. We live to enjoy happiness and to bear the agony of suffering. We live to try to complete this part of us that will not be complete once we cross over in the afterlife.

Is that really why we live? Maybe. But one thing is for sure.

We live because we are life itself.

FIRST EVER POST.

This is a writing exercise I got from friends’ statuses on Facebook. I haven’t written in so long and this might be the best time to start writing again.

Age I was given: 8 by ate Ayrie and 19 by Reg 

Where I lived: 

8 years old- My family and I lived in this little place at the back of my grandfather’s compound in Bacolod. This is where I grew up.

19 years old– You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I lived in so many places when I was nineteen.

  • Bacolod City and Ma-ao Sugar Central- My father, brother and I lived there from January to mid-February as we were getting ready to leave for Canada.
  • Sofia Bellevue Condo, Old Balara, Quezon City- Tatay, Gio, and I stayed there for three days prior to our immigration.
  • Yonge and Lawrence [apartment], Toronto, Ontario (February to August 2011) – This is where my family and I first stayed when we arrived in Canada.
  • Scarborough [townhouse], Ontario- My family and I lived there for a few months until we moved to the place where we’re living in now.

What I did: 

8 years old– I was in third grade. I spent most of my days borrowing Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew books from the St. Scho library. My teacher chose me to participate in this spelling bee contest. I got into the final round when I screwed up every word I had to spell. I remember changing “shrub” to “shURb” because spelling it “shRUb” made no sense to me. This is the year when my exam proctor and then-adviser reprimanded me because she said I was cheating on my math 4th quarter examination. I believe that I told her that I was only looking at the ceiling because I forgot how to solve this one problem. I think she believed me because she knew I was good at math. At that time, I didn’t even know what cheating was. My classmate and I got in trouble because the nuns who run our school caught my classmate and I inside their big rabbit cage. We said that we were only playing with the rabbits. I specifically remember that this one nun brought me to the chapel to pray as penance for what I have done.

19 years old– Left my dearest friends and family in Bacolod and Luzon. Migrated to Canada. Repeated the last year of high school again. Aced all my classes. Earned my first ever pay from babysitting. Got my first legit job at McDonald’s and received the Employee of the Month award after my probation period. Was promoted to Crew Trainer two months after probation. Decided to never ask my parents for money again (I’m quite proud of this.). Got a laptop and printer as my first investment. Met awesome people in high school. Went clubbing with work friends every month (we got tired of it after). Thought I had finally fallen in love. Realized that it (refer to previous statement) is not the same as actually falling in love.

What I drove:  8 years old – Drove myself crazy.

19 years old – Drove my parents crazy. (I wanted to put “drove a car” but then I would be lying. LOL)

Who had my heart:  8 years old—When I was young, I had the same crush as my dearest friend. I have never told her about this at all. :))

19 years old—I thought that he (let us not mention his name :]) had my heart at the moment. SO OLD NEWS. (If he can’t love me back then he’s not worth it.) J

AND OH, I remember this other guy who had my heart for about an hour. I don’t remember your face and your name but you made me feel special that September night. :))

Now: 

I graduated secondary school (again) with an Ontario Scholar award which made my family proud of me. I had another work promotion (as Team Leader) and has been offered another one (Manager—which I decided not to accept) recently.

I started my book collection (again). I started reading good books (again). I started writing poems about love and poems about life (yet again.)

I have an awesome family and extraordinary friends who are always there for me (and vice versa). My family and I recently moved to another apartment where we met people who we now consider our extended family members.

I am waiting for universities to offer me admission.

I am currently waiting for March 1, 2013 (RAPTORS GAME!!) 😀

I am also waiting for love (with the right person this time) and all it has to give. 🙂

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