When all I do, is what you tell me to do?

Every time you ask me how I turned out to be like this, I would always want to reply with the same question. How was I a decade ago? How was I when you aren’t working abroad yet? How was I when all I expect when I go home was you? When breakfast meant you feeding me, blow drying my hair, putting my socks all at once? When I cry on a Saturday morning finding out you aren’t beside me? When eating at Jollibee, you only order for a meal because you were low on budget? When not being the first one to ride my school service meant Papa bringing me to school instead? When being late is what I hate the most? When Saturdays meant new clothes? When wanting you beside me with a killing scene on the television is all I want? When I hate buying on the store because I’m shy? When my favorite color meant red? When toothache meant me lying on you with a pillow on my head and you assuring me it will be gone? When all I do, is what you tell me to do?

I hate that we lost so many times to bond, to enjoy, to talk together. I hate that I have to talk to you on the phone and not see you. I hate it when Papa’s the one taking care of me while I’m sick when it should have been you. I hate it when I have to drag someone just so somebody witnesses our school presentation. I hate it that I was growing with you far away from me.

And now your question.. How did I turn out to be like this. Someone selfish, worthless, somebody who doesn’t care. When you told me, “Andito naman ako nung bata ka ah.. nakita naman kitang lumaki.” I replied with “Iba yun, Ma. Iba yung bata ako..

When we had this batches of seminars in our Guidance office a couple of months go, I was thrilled that I can finally let out every emotion about you. But still, there are a lot of things I wasn’t able to share.

The second to the last time you left was the worst. It was on a May. Weeks before school starts. I remember trying my best not to cry, I wanted to stay inside the car but I would want to hug you. I failed. Tears fell down from my eyes and all I could remember was a blurry message from you. After that, I didn’t want to look. On our way home, maybe my Titos and cousins were I guess wondering why I cried. It’s the nth time it happened, am I not used to that scene? But that time was different. I was about to enter college. My first year in another school. First semester. First time I go home late because of school. And my first day..

It was raining so hard. We had a hard time commuting because it was late. I was hungry. I was wet. When I got home, everyone’s asleep. I didn’t feel the longing just yet but as days pass by, I miss someone asking me how my day went. Someone asking me where I am already. Someone being worried because her daughter’s not use to the scary night life of Manila. And I hate that you don’t realize that until now.

I must admit, it’s different when you’re not here on special occasions. But I realized that somehow, things will be okay when you can’t be here. But there are days when I need you so badly, I just go to our room and cry. There are days that I need my Mama, that I need someone to make lambing.

These past few days have been bad. Even if you’re here, I wake up to someone yelling at me and asking me what time I should go to school. Aren’t you suppose to know what my schedule is and leave me sleeping instead? I wake up with nobody telling me to eat breakfast then take a bath.. but when you do, you’re always mad. I go to school without someone examining how I look.. if my blush on is too thick, or if it wasn’t applied equally. I would always have to ask you.. twice. Sometimes I want to shout “Hello, may isa pa kayong anak!” because sometimes there’s nobody there to even care. So sometimes, I want to drop out from school and just be a bum. Whether in school or not, who cares anyway?

Let’s admit it, you going broad for work took it’s toll on me. I suffered more than what you see and you feel. Ate is already big when you left and all things that you would instill on her would eventually stick out. While me, I was growing still. Not even undergoing puberty yet. I still had lots of questions in mind that I answered myself because nobody was there to do so.

I know that you’re sad because I grew having Papa’s sentiments more than with you. Because growing up, he was more physically present showing me and and making me feel loved. Because when waking up, he was there beside me pushing me to get up from bed. Because when getting sick, he gives me everything I want.

I’m not happy with those situations. I’m not happy with whatever I am feeling right now. Because I know for sure, I will always be a Mama’s Girl and Papa’s Girl at the same time.

I just want to release my feelings for now. Because the only way I can tell you all of this, is when we fight. And I can’t wait that long. I just want you to make up for it. To treat me how you do before. Serve me not as my Yaya, like what you always tell me, but as my Mama. When you get mad and say “Ano kayo may Yaya?” I want to tell you, No.. I just miss how my mother shows me how much she loves me.

This comment from this blog triggered me more to write this. And finally now, I feel better. Not too good but much better than how I was when I first typed the first words of this blog.

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