currently

Indigesting

In Sin's Den

Solomon prayed for wisdom, but I don't think I need any more wisdom. I don't mean that I am a genius, but I'm fine where I am at. I'm fine, losing my wallet every once in a while. I'm fine, getting over-charged at Joy Yee Plus. I'm fine, losing arguments and predictions. Instead, I pray for faith to endure. It's what I need the most. Because right now, every open crevice of my heart gets filled with hate.

Today, I saw the den of sin. It was beautiful. And it should be beautiful because it costed families.  And for many moments, I envied the den, every square foot, inch, and centimeter. Everything about that den was beautiful, luxurious, and unimaginable. But I was also very afraid. Because sin is such a short-term pleasure. It is such an intense short-term pleasure, that I am afraid of its temptations. But besides the hate in my heart, the words I shouldn't say, I have greed. I want luxury in this short-term life. I want all those gorgeous things. So I desperately pray for strength. Right now, I don't even have enough faith in myself to make a solemn promise. My heart is much weaker now. I've become scum.

And I want people to be able to see God in me. I want a forgiving heart, a sincere mouth, a caring ear, observant eyes-- I want all those things that would make me the best servant I can be. After a full day of internet disconnection, I've had the time for more consideration. And now that I've calmed down, that beautiful house isn't that great. All their riches doesn't make them wealthy. And I should recommend no one to work for them as I should invite those to church instead. Do I bring my pagan friends in front of buckets of gold and tell them to give that up for something they can't see? I'm afraid that I'm not convincing enough. Satan is powerful with his spectacles and material goods, but Jesus is almighty. So give me strength, for I am still weak. Strength to not greed, not steal, not deceive, not hate, not covet, not plot evil.

If I am

I am really ashamed. I should get struck by lightning, land on a pile of poop and drown in it. And that would be a decent death. If everything I do is because of my family, and everything my family does is all because of me, then I should get stomped on by a stampede of elephants.

I feel really ashamed. It wasn't even something I did, yet I feel like crying. I feel regretful and sorry. I feel stupid and ugly. God, I wish these bad feelings away like they were a bad cold. I wish these bad feelings away like they were cancer, like they were a tumor, a cyst, a 6th toe. I wish I can say I had the right to wish these feelings away. I wish I could say, it wasn't my burden, my responsisbility, my family. It wasn't my family that stole from you yesterday, it wasn't my mom that said it was alright. It wasn't me, that walked away with yours, smiling and happy. It wasn't me. She'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. He'll forgive me, but I'll still feel like crap. I'll forgive him, but I'll still feel like crap. I think I feel worse than crap. Because.. how bad can crap really feel? I mean.. it's turd, it's poop, it's excretion. If I were a piece of poop, I don't think I'd feel that bad.. I think poops are carefree and laidback, they just sit there, in the cold, in the sun, in the grass, in the street. I don't feel like crap. I feel terrible. I wish I felt like crap.

Esos

I don't know why my mom's voice annoys me so much. I hate it when she calls to tell me she's ready to begin her journey home. I hate it when she walks out to me at about 9 or 10 to tell me to go to sleep. I hate it when she yells from the kitchen to get more food when she doesn't have a clue or give a crap about how much I already have on my plate. I hate it when she lies to me about the garbage she puts in the soup. I hate it when she talks, when she wakes up, when she hogs the bathroom, when she tells me to eat some food, to loose some weight and announces to the entire family and her friends and co-workers of my stupid goal of being healthy and beautiful. Damn, I'm so ugly right now. What sins am I committing? Dishonoring my parents? letting the sun set on my anger night after night? harboring negative thoughts on others? I suppose it's all of the above.

God, I look around me and I see this mess and my reality's clutter is becoming a teratogen to my fetal brain. God, there's so many papers to read, documents to file, mail to open, food to throw, garbage to clean, clothes to find, shit to do. I should never swear with God, but this mess is eating me up. I think it's mostly an excuse for me to displace my concerns. And I'm becoming less nice, less forgiving, less considerate, less real. I'm becoming a terrible person. I want to move out. Ok, maybe moving out isn't the goal I'm reaching for, but it's the things that I assume would come with it, a clean slate. I'm sure there will be moments once my parents are gone and I'm all alone, I'll reminisce this condition, but what I really need right now is stability. I need more faith, I need something to look at as I'm walking. I feel like I'm drunk, staggering from point to point, half-assing at everything and barely getting by. I need stability, I need to feel in control.

Dude

Summer, come and make me Fall.

December

In that little corner of the round table, I saw how I didn't fit in with everyone. I had nothing to say to them, and they had nothing they wanted to know about me. I nonchalantly ate my meal, poured my own juice, and kept quiet to myself as they chitter-chattered amongst each other about topics I had no interest in. But obligated to react, I'd occasionally throw a smile or an  "oh".They, my supposed, brothers and sisters were just strangers to me. Well, not complete strangers, but people that have to say they love each other. Surely, I did not hate these brothers and sisters, but I was the granny smith of the fuji sack, the banana hanging in a peach tree. And for five years, I stuck with these people, because of love. I loved these brothers and sisters although I have little to say to them. I loved watching them, entertaining them, and showing them how God has changed me. But there have been many moments that lead me back to that day, when I hated the family, moments that lead my back to that day when I had no respect for any of those fuji apples, moments that lead me back to that day when I wanted to stay in my bunk bed until the bus came to pick us up.

It makes me laugh in disgust, the things they talked about and the pride they took in having those conversations. "AA, you know has been with BB" "Of course I know, I also know about AA and CC and with FF" "But I heard LL was with HH" "No, no no, that would never happen" So the entire table sat there, excited about the gossip and use of code names so other tables and I would not understand.  And I realized how little I knew about these people, how I never expected these brothers and sisters to have incest-ful feelings towards each other. 'Wow, these people, they're really stupid.', I thought. And I suddenly realized that I should care, I should be curious about my siblings. And so I concluded with, 'I don't belong here, what the hell am I doing here?'

Dot

God, I am so unhappy. But I still feel blessed.