THIS IS not a good year.
If I were superstitious, I would’ve believed the universe had it in for me. Maybe I’m its big project. Let’s make this girl’s life miserable so she’d know what it feels to be on the other side of the spectrum! Mind you, universe, I’ve been on the other side all my life, and just when I thought I could get out of there, you’re dragging me back again.
It all started in January—the beginning of the year, my birth month. I was supposed to have this bangin’ birthday. A quiet dinner with my family is my idea of bang. Exciting, I know. I was at school, in a hurry to go home, so I could get ready.
Ting! A text message from my dad. No dinner out. Problem at work. I was a little deflated, but I understood. In many ways, work comes first. And I’m not that sentimental about celebrating birthdays.
My dad didn’t have a problem. He had a PROBLEM. There’s trouble at work, one that ruled him jobless for the next three months.
I had a little meltdown. This, on my birthday? Thanks, universe. I did all the crying, my mother didn’t want to add to it. And I really wasn’t crying for my father, but for me. Would I stop going to school? Would I have no money to buy clothes? My dad got suspended from his job and I was thinking about clothes. I would have looked at myself, too, and thought, selfish brat.
The next three months were hell. I wasn’t used to being with my dad all the time. I guess all the days he was there were a little suffocating. I wanted to be alone. Seeing him just reminded me of how much life had turned around.
The “problem” loomed over our heads, a rain cloud waiting to pour. It was there when we needed to pay bills, when my brother and I got dengue and had to be hospitalized, when we bought groceries. It was everywhere and it was inevitable.
The experience made me more self-aware—a little too much, in fact. I became so aware of my insecurities. I stressed out over everything. There were times when I didn’t want to go to school because I didn’t feel pretty enough. I didn’t feel enough. I wanted validation. I didn’t get enough validation. And that wrecked me.
And there’s this issue of not getting what I deserved. Pouring my heart out on projects, reading the material and knowing it, acing quizzes and exams, but still getting a measly grade far from what I expected—it sucked the life out of me. I worked and worked—and got the crumbs. The universe enjoyed seeing me fail, I guess. It wanted me down in the dumps to see if I could pick myself up. Well, I couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. I’m too tired, too exhausted, of life.
This year was this close to succeeding with its plans to kill me. The gun was pointed at my head. But I took hold of it, threw it on the ground. This is me conquering the year, this is me telling the universe that I can pick myself up. It starts with releasing all the selfishness, the love for material things, and the need to feel validated. It starts with the acceptance of the fact that life’s delay is not life’s denial.
Next year, I’ll be on full gear, wearing my war paint, ready for battle. Bring it on, 2016.
Roanne Manio, 17, is studying business economics at Bulacan State University.