I.
They kept telling me that everything had a reason and that my presence there had a purpose. It was meant from the very start and what was needed from me was a clear mind and an open heart.
A few weeks back, my aunt told me that utol backed out from their planned retreat. Since it was already paid, she asked if I could go on leave from work to take my sister's place. Fearing that a decline may lead to a fall-out of favor, I said yes to her invitation. I could just tell my superiors that I have to go on-leave to focus on my thesis. They would not dare question my two-day absence.
II.
Things were not doing well at home a few days before the retreat. The Sikyu has not yet deposited our salaries to our bank accounts, mom was not feeling well, our finances were dwindling, and my sister turned the house into a refugee camp. Last month, I ranted at how she stayed elsewhere leaving me to look after our mom. To avoid getting bad rep for spending the night in the streets, (don't ask me why) she brought her comrades along, which ironically, consumed everything in sight.
For five days, we were forced to feed several more mouths during breakfast and dinner; added several bars of bath soap in the bathroom and the kitchen so they won't use ours for their hygiene needs; and cleaned their mess when they leave late in the morning. They were freeloaders beyond understanding and the sad part was, mom turned a blind eye on everything.
Last Tuesday, my fuse ran out. I found out that some loser guy used my facial scrub to clean his acne-infested face. That kid could have seen hell had he stayed longer that morning.
III.
Tuesday afternoon was a living hell. There were so many errands to do and no sister to take away some burdens. I had to juggle my sideline, the packing of things for the retreat the following day, my mom's grading sheet which I had to encode to beat the deadline and a planned visit to a friend's mother who was confined at a provincial hospital later that evening. I was so busy with so many things that I had to inform my aunt I would arrive home at past midnight.
Drained, I was in no mood to share my burdens at the retreat. I thought the whole activity was a waste of my time. With my mind muddled, a heart hating, and a tomorrow that is uncertain not even the unplanned chill-out in Tagaytay that night lifted my sagging spirit. At the back of my head, I was thinking of Crayola Boy and how our one night stand last year gave me an hour's amnesia. I did arrive at my aunt's place at past midnight and after listening to a male cousin unburden his artistic repressions at 2 in the morning, I resigned to bed with one thing in mind.
To look for a karir at the retreat.
They kept telling me that everything had a reason and that my presence there had a purpose. It was meant from the very start and what was needed from me was a clear mind and an open heart.
A few weeks back, my aunt told me that utol backed out from their planned retreat. Since it was already paid, she asked if I could go on leave from work to take my sister's place. Fearing that a decline may lead to a fall-out of favor, I said yes to her invitation. I could just tell my superiors that I have to go on-leave to focus on my thesis. They would not dare question my two-day absence.
II.
Things were not doing well at home a few days before the retreat. The Sikyu has not yet deposited our salaries to our bank accounts, mom was not feeling well, our finances were dwindling, and my sister turned the house into a refugee camp. Last month, I ranted at how she stayed elsewhere leaving me to look after our mom. To avoid getting bad rep for spending the night in the streets, (don't ask me why) she brought her comrades along, which ironically, consumed everything in sight.
For five days, we were forced to feed several more mouths during breakfast and dinner; added several bars of bath soap in the bathroom and the kitchen so they won't use ours for their hygiene needs; and cleaned their mess when they leave late in the morning. They were freeloaders beyond understanding and the sad part was, mom turned a blind eye on everything.
Last Tuesday, my fuse ran out. I found out that some loser guy used my facial scrub to clean his acne-infested face. That kid could have seen hell had he stayed longer that morning.
III.
Tuesday afternoon was a living hell. There were so many errands to do and no sister to take away some burdens. I had to juggle my sideline, the packing of things for the retreat the following day, my mom's grading sheet which I had to encode to beat the deadline and a planned visit to a friend's mother who was confined at a provincial hospital later that evening. I was so busy with so many things that I had to inform my aunt I would arrive home at past midnight.
Drained, I was in no mood to share my burdens at the retreat. I thought the whole activity was a waste of my time. With my mind muddled, a heart hating, and a tomorrow that is uncertain not even the unplanned chill-out in Tagaytay that night lifted my sagging spirit. At the back of my head, I was thinking of Crayola Boy and how our one night stand last year gave me an hour's amnesia. I did arrive at my aunt's place at past midnight and after listening to a male cousin unburden his artistic repressions at 2 in the morning, I resigned to bed with one thing in mind.
To look for a karir at the retreat.
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-tobecontinued-
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