[ MEMORY, circa 2014 ]
Waking up at 6AM on a weekend, during the break (a rare feat). Going down the stairs, spotting Dad taping up the box where I kept my drawing and drafting tools (with vague plans to sell them off to my friends from architecture school). Hearing dad sniffle once, twice. Staying motionless for a few moments at the foot of the stairs. Not knowing what to say. Feeling shitty all over again, because “Why am I the wrong daughter for my good parents? Why couldn’t I stick with this and bear it all? Why did I have to do this to my parents?” Standing next to Dad, and Dad embraced me. Crying. Both of us crying. Dad telling me, “Nasasayangan lang kasi ako, anak (I just feel a bit regretful, my child).” Feeling my throat close up for the millionth time since–God I am such a fuck up. Saying “sorry sorry sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuc–
(I just wanted to be out of the sad dump that I’ve fallen into.)
(I just wanted to stop making my parents cry.)
(I just wanted to be relatively not sad.)
I’m glad that today, it’s better. It really gets better.