Although our fieldtrip to CSB was fun and exciting, I didn’t feel all that well.
I can’t imagine a life different than how it is now.
Then again, I could never imagine myself being in High school, and guess where I am — and I’m a senior next year, too.
Fuck. Senior year, then college.
What scares me most is life with no reassurance.
After college, it’s all up to me.
Actually, it all starts now. I have to make my decisions for my future. I have to decide everything now already.
It’s hard. I always feel like I can’t do it. I can’t imagine a life without school, living in my house, living with my family.
I can’t imagine falling in love either.
I know everyone’s got their fantasies and experiences, but I have none.
I watch movies, plays, and people around me. I don’t know what they feel like, but it seems nice, huh?
It’s difficult for me to meet people. I hate starting from scratch. Meeting new people and growing a new friendship with them.
I’m not like a lot of people, who can easily converse and easily get along with people after just talking to them for a few minutes.
I can only get comfortable with people after a few weeks. And it won’t be me making the effort either, you’re going to have to come to me.
It’s not because I don’t want to be friends, or try to make friends either. It’s because I can’t tell if it’s normal to just go up to someone I don’t really know, and start talking.
I’m very self-concious. I get distracted by a lot of things. And although it doesn’t seem like it, I see everything. I can actually easily read people, but I keep it to myself. I think I prefer pretending I know nothing than obviously knowing and be awkward.
I know who I am, and I know if what I do is wrong or right.
I know what I want, what I hate.
I want to be happy. I hate being so down. It makes me write shit like this.
So I got up around 8, because we had to go to the Higantes Festival in Angono.
We went to Shopwise to meet up with my mom’s college friends, because we were going to, her friend, Tita Au’s provincial house.
While waiting, we got chicharon and I got myself a gachpon.
So when they got there, we left and encountered very heavy traffic. I fell asleep. (Take note, it was difficult ‘cause I couldn’t really bend my knee very well, so my leg was on my sister most of the time)
Once we got to the house, we got aquianted with Tita Au’s mom and we had lunch.
We waited in that house for the parade to start. We kept going in and out ‘cause we thought the parade was passing by already.
During the Higantes Festival, they take St Clement (I think) and bring her to their Church. Since she was supposedly from the water, people would wet eachother. lol
They had a procession with different groups of people doing demonstrations. One group, probably a small part of Angono (like a barangay or something), usually have a band, a guy in a “giant” these girls carrying decorative oars, a group of people dancing or twirling batons, and a gay guy leading that group. Haha
So we watched the whole thing, and I got wet. XD;
We left a bit later, then we went to Bel Air to have mass at St Andrew’s. Then we went to my grandma’s, and we had dinner at Artina (or something like that?)
There was a tiangge near by, and my sister and I went around.
Then we went home.
Then when we got home, Enchanted was on TV, so I took a shower then went down to watch.
So I’m home right now. It’s 12:38 PM. My schoolmates are probably eating lunch.
I was at school today, but I didn’t take any classes, because as I was on my way up to the classroom, I tripped — on my shoe, on the stairs, I don’t remember.
It was a painful fall. I hit my knee and my elbow. I sat for a while since I couldn’t take how painful it was. I checked my elbow, nothing. I checked my knee, and there was something. Something very gross. My knee had this short but deep wound. Yech. It was pink and yellowish on the inside. Like the tissues or fat or whatever that was. It put my pants back down ‘cause I didn’t wanna see it.
I sat there a little bit more until the pain was gone, since all I was missing was the morning rites, when my adviser came. I told her I tripped and got a cut, and I asked her if I could go to the clinic, and she let me. I brought my things up first, and my friends in the class told me to greet Paula. After I put my things down, I said, “Happy birthday, Paula. I tripped and got a deep cut on my knee a while ago. Happy birthday.” I told them I was going to the clinic, and Paula came with me ‘cause she likes ditching things.
When I got to the clinic, around 7:30 more or less, the nurse told Paula to leave ‘cause it was going to be painful (and probably a long wait too). It didn’t really hurt much. It was bearable. I didn’t even cry.
Then she told me to lay down on the bed ‘cause she wasn’t sure if she could let me go, ‘cause the doctor wasn’t there yet, and I might need to get stiches
When I heard that, I started crying. ‘Cause seriously, stitches. Scary.
So I went to the bed and she gave me medicine for the pain. I didn’t feel pain anymore, but she insisted, so I took it, along with my other 2 pills I had to take for my colds.
I sat, lay down, sat up again, and waited for the doctor to come. She came around 8-ish and I waited for her to come in, but she ended up checking me around 8:30.
She told me I might need stitches ‘cause it’s on my knee, and it’ll open everytime I take a step, and that I shouldn’t cry since it was small anyway.
Mrs Salgado came over. She’s my dad’s friend, so she decided to stay and wait for him to come. The doctor showed her my wound, and they talked and they talked to me, and they told me to stop crying, and Mrs Salgado talked to the kids near me, and she was all, “See, ate’s crying. Tell her to stop crying na.” She eventually left to wait for my dad outside, and I waited and waited again, and maybe 20 or more minutes later Mrs Salgado told me she had to leave, and she left while I waited.
My parents finally came around past 9 and took me to Medical City.
I needed stitches.
So they put me on a wheelchair (eventhough I didn’t want to. They tried putting me on a wheelchair in the clinic to bring me out, but I decided to just walk.) and they took me to the surgeon. He looked at my wound, and later on they put me on an operating table and they were about to stitch me up.
First, they cleaned. It didn’t hurt much, it just stung once in a while. I could feel the betadine dripping down my leg.
Next, they injected me with anasthesia. It was okay, I hold up well with injections.
So, when they were about to stitch me up already, I was thinking to myself, “It’s okay. It’s just like an injection, but it’s going through and up my skin, not just into it.” And so I felt a prick, then nothing. Another prick, then nothing. One last prick, then nothing.
I guess it was okay after all.
They told me I was done, and I got up from the operating table. We just waited for the pedia to tell me what to do and what not to do while my parents talked to their friend who worked at MC.
So the pedia came and answered our questions, we payed, then we left for Metrowalk.
My dad just can’t stay home. He loves going out. So we went to Chicken Inasal and had lunch around before 12.
We ate and went home.
So here I am. Writing this journal entry.
Had some distractions, like my mom giving me my antibiotic medicine, and my yaya bringing what I asked her to buy from the park.
I just feel bad that I can’t go to school tomorrow, and I can’t do streneous activities for 3 days. And I can’t bend my left knee.
So we visited my grandma today in the cemetery. I’m not entirely sure if it’s called a cemetery; it’s a place where the keep urns. I’m not sure.
Anyhow, so we visited my Lola Marta, and I asked my mom why she didn’t have a name plate. (It was just a piece of printed paper with her name and photo)
My mom told me it’s ‘cause we’re still not sure if we’re keeping her in the Philippines or bringing her to the USA, because Lolo Johnny, her husband, was buried over there. My mom even said we could bring her. I asked her, “How do you bring her? Just carry her around?” and she told me that’s how it was.
And for some reason, I wanted to bring her to the US. I wanted to carry her around, because strangely, I imagined it, and it seemed comforting bringing her urn around.
I told my family I wanted to, and they though I was being funny, but I honestly wanted to. My mom even said “Mabigat ‘yan, ah. You’ll be the one carrying it around.” and I thought it was fine. I could put her in a sling around my body or in a backpack. Just bringing her around seemed fun for me, strangely.
“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear
Are still inside my head
The kindest words I’ll ever know
Are waiting to be said
The most entrancing sight of all
Is yet for me to see
And the dearest love in all the world
Is waiting somewhere for me”—The Sweetest Sounds, from Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella
Strange thing — I’ve never had a crush on anyone. I think I’m asexual. But I’m pretty sure I’m straight. Even though I’ve never really liked a boy. And I don’t wanna like a girl. I’m okay with lesbians, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t wanna be one. No offence, just not my preference. So I guess I’m straight.