The Warrior and the Child

So many things have happened these past few months which is why I decided to change my blog layout. It's still messed up though and my new header is the most I can do with my (limited) Photoshop skills hahaha. Anyway, I'm back to writing and can't wait to start posting new updates about my rollercoaster of a life. Here is the last piece I wrote before I went on a hiatus. I'm sire you'd figure out after reading this piece why I needed to get away...

April 1, 2009 was one of worst days in my life. I found myself running in 3-inch stilettos in front of Mercury Drugs not knowing where to go. I felt so helpless as panic engulfed logic. I still am not ready to write about what transpired that night but all I know is that it changed my life. I now found that invisible ink flowing from my veins to my pen. Now I know I won’t be writing in vain.

I went there not knowing what my main purpose was. I just felt like it was the best thing to do. Perhaps I was seeking refuge or just a mere sign of sympathy. I still shiver with fear just thinking about how I managed to escape but at the same time felt overwhelming gratitude just for being alive. I was obviously torn.

She was seated across me; her eyes big and questioning that I couldn’t help but come out of my invisible shield. I smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. I excused myself and went out. She immediately followed.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Daffodil.”

“That’s a nice name. I’m also named after a flower. I’m Rose.”

She fidgeted with my bag while I heard a woman’s stifled cry in the other room. I presume it’s her Mom. Good thing, the little girl did not notice. I shouldn’t let her.

“Do you like to dance?”

“No.”

“Ahhh… you like to sing then.”

She nodded eagerly.

“Who’s your favorite singer? Sarah Geronimo?”

“No, I don't like her songs. I like the song ‘I believe’”.

“What’s that?”

She started to sing in her sweet little voice, “I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside…”

The usually glum and dark room seemed to lit up, filled with a hopeful melody. I didn’t shed a single tear throughout the terrible incident nor even after it. But as I found myself singing with her, my tears fell down - one by one.

“Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be…”

It was the same song I used to sing as a child. It was my favorite. And hearing it now, sung by a four-year old seemed to me as more of a coincidence.

“The greatest love of all is easy to achieve – learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.”

I was speechless for quite some time. I couldn’t believe that there I was, defeated with distress and self-pity being rescued by a four-year old girl. I was so messed up and almost giving up but she was still full of hope. I felt like a child again – seeing with her eyes. The world was perfect and I was safe and protected in a shell of parental love. How I wish it was still the case for the both of us.

She waved goodbye as I tried to force a smile. I wished things could have been different – for her and for me. I wished nightmares didn’t come to life and children are spared of life’s cruelties. I wish we can go through this and emerge unbroken and strengthened. How I wished I met her at a different place. I wished as hard as I could - I wished for her more than for me.

After filing my case, I walked out of CIDG’s Women and Children’s Protection Division - a place filled with women and children who are physically and sexually violated. I went there not knowing what my main purpose was. What I didn’t know was in that desolate room often filled with shattered dreams and defeated spirits, is where I will find one of my life’s purposes. After hearing Daffodil's story - how she was sexually abused in her own home, I found the strength to carry on and start all over. God has led me there and sent His angel to help me realize the reason behind it all.

For the first time after the incident, I felt a sense of peace as Daffodil’s gentle voice continued to echo in my mind.

Long Live the King! Long Live Love!

I never thought that I'd write a post for Michael Jackson. Not that I think he is un-postworthy, it's just that I know everyone's been writing about him the past few days and are very emotional about his death. I'm not a cold heartless bitch but I didn't think I could give Michael Jackson as much outpouring of emotions as other does. And I don't want to write about him just for the sake of writing about him. I don't write about anything unless I am utterly, greatly, moved.

I do consider him an ICON. Although I'm not that musically inclined, I tried to reach the higher notes of I'll Be There and You Are Not Alone as a kid. And I did, at one point in my life, try to imitate the moonwalk in vain. I mean, who didn't? I'm sure everyone tried to be a Michael Jackson at one point or another. And I'm not just talking about his creative talents.

As a kid, I idolized him and as an adult I tried to understand his actions. Everyone criticized what he's done to his physical appearance - lighter skin, thinner nose, deeper-set eyes and heaven knows what else. We all know it's a plastic surgery that went wrong but maybe (and my guess is just as good as yours) underneath all the facade is just a simple person trying to fit in a crowd - a kid trying so hard to please everyone. Just like me, just like you and just like everyone else.

I remember Michael Jackson, I remember "The Way You Make Me Feel" and I remember him changing the music industry and culture, as well. But what I won't forget, is him being a father (biological or not) who brought his daughter to great tears in his funeral.

At last I could say - I was utterly, greatly, moved.