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I've been through a lot. I know that. And sometimes I wish I never had to go through any of those at all. Sometimes, I wish, I was a child again, when my only problem was whether or not my mother would let me play outside the house later.

The fight isn't over for me yet. There are still some wounds that are healing. I still can't speak in front without my hands shaking. I'm still scared of a lot of things. I'm still depressed.

But this time, I know that I'll be fine in the end.

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I lost 9 kilograms in a month.

I cut my hair.

Slowly but surely, I started getting better.

I learn the truth.

Jericho never really liked me. He saw me as some kind of trophy.

Well, then I'm glad we're over.

Smiling is easier.

I can do this.

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I stop talking to my friends.

I look at the mirror.

Have I always been this ugly?

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I can't eat.

I can't stop crying.

It's like I just shut down.

Everything feels like a blur.

My mother is going to Ilocos to my aunt's funeral. She asks me to come with her. She sees my red and swollen eyes, she asks if I'm okay. I tell her it's just a cold. She says it's fine not to go.

I don't want to go.

But my mother needs me more than ever. She's probably in more pain than I am after all. So I suck it up, and I go with her to Ilocos.

I cry, and cry, and cry, and cry. I wake up, I cry. I cry, I go to sleep.

Everyone is going to leave me.

No matter what they say.

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My best friend tells me that Jericho had told him about liking someone else.

I ask him about it through text.

He doesn't reply for four hours.

I had already bought clothes for our first date.

He replies later with a
"Usap tayo bukas."

The next day is enrollment. Everyone knows. My eyes are swollen, but I wait for him. Only because a small part of me hopes he'll say sorry and we'll go back to how we were before.

He makes me wait for four hours again.

Only to break it off.

I don't understand.

Am I not allowed to be happy forever?

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My aunt dies after awhile.

Jericho stops returning my texts.

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I was miserable. I was depressed.

But Jericho was there when I needed someone the most. He helped me get out of my slump, and eventually, I started looking forward to waking up again. To going to sleep.

I was happy.

I felt like I had no problems at all. After years of feeling disgusting, of feeling like a failure, I finally felt like I was loved.

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She passed away.

God probably wanted her to not suffer anymore.

It suddenly made sense, why she looked at me that way when I told her about prom.

She wasn't going to be there.

Maybe she knew, maybe she didn't.

I...

I didn't think she'd actually leave.

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My grandmother had sores inside her organs. She was in so much pain, and there was nothing my family could do but pray for her and hope she recovers.

They invited a pastor over to pray for her. As the pastor prayed with his hand over my grandmother's head, a miracle happened.

The sores, they all disappeared.

When the pastor had told my father this, even my father was skeptical, and had laughed. But then the doctors had confirmed it. They were... gone.

It was my mother's birthday that day. She wasn't going to celebrate, but now she felt like celebrating.

I... I didn't know what to feel.

He's real.

God is real.

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My grandmother was in so much pain. My father had asked me to visit her, but that I wasn't supposed to cry, or show her that seeing her in that state was making me sad, because it made her even more sick.

Tell her a story, my father said, tell her a happy story that had happened recently.

I thought I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't prone to tears. But this was different. This was someone dying. Someone I've known for the entirety of my life. This isn't a friend who was leaving. This was family leaving forever.

But I steeled myself. And I began to tell her about prom. I told her how much fun I had. And that I was sad she wasn't able to see me in a dress. I told her that it was okay, because she was going to see me next prom anyway.

My grandmother looked at me at that, and her eyes were, for some reason, filled to the brim with tears.

I felt like I was about to cry myself.

I said my farewell and left.

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Prom was amazing, and made even more amazing by my best friends. I realized that they definitely were different from my last set of friends. They helped me become a better version of myself, and I'm kind of glad I lost all those other people before.

Jericho, a classmate of mine, had confessed to me on that day. I never really noticed him until that day.

He was my last dance.

It was a night I wouldn't forget.

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I hated him for as long as I could remember, I hated him so much I failed to see when he had stopped treating me with contempt, and when he had started being my big brother.

November 7, 2013, he fetched me from school. I was surprised, having expected my mother. We went to SM North Edsa, and he asked me where I wanted to eat. Unfortunately, I was already full, so I only asked for juice. We went to Jamba Juice, and we got our picture taken. I was confused. Had he always been this nice to me? What the hell was going on?

"Sure ka ba na juice lang gusto mo? Dali, kahit ano, I'll pay for it."

I sure as hell didn't know what was going on, but I decided to just push my luck. I mean, he did say he'd pay for anything, right? So I told him I wanted to have nail art done on my nails in a really fancy nail salon.

He drove me there in a heartbeat.

As we were going home, I felt confused. What was he doing? Why was he being so nice to me? I'm supposed to hate this guy.

As if he had read my thoughts, he speaks. "Bukas kasi birthday mo diba? E wala ako kasi may pupuntahan ako. Kaya ayan, para masabi mo nacelebrate mo birthday mo with me."

And then it hit me.

He'd been my big brother for awhile now, I just didn't see it, blinded by my jealousy and hatred. Whenever I didn't know how to do my homework, he'd help me. He'd teach me how to play a game, how to ride a bike.

I spent all those years hating him, while he spent those years being my big brother.

And just like that,

I let all my hatred for him go.

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The next year was a blur. I still made friends, but I no longer told them things about myself. I no longer lied as often as I did back then. I no longer believed the words they'd tell me, no matter how many times they'd reassure me we'd be friends forever.

We weren't going to be friends forever.

Nobody ever stays.

But somehow, they still managed to make me believe in them.

I mean, everyone deserves to be happy. Surely, I did too.

I had a new set of best friends, and I'd do anything to make sure they stayed.

I fell in love with my new section. Although not everyone was nice, a lot of them felt like family.

Maybe, maybe just maybe, things are finally looking up for me.

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Being hospitalized was a nightmare. I hated hospitals. I'm so glad I don't get sick that easily. Confine me in another one and I might actually just shrivel up and die.

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My grandmother had fallen ill.

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I stopped believing in God.

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I began to stop wanting to interact with anyone. People made me anxious. Attention made me anxious. I was miserable.

I wanted to die.

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She left me.

At first, I was angry. She promised we'd always be best friends. She told me we were sisters for life. We spent so much time together and I did everything I could so that we could still be friends. But nothing.

When I found out that we were in different sections, I immediately felt fear. Fear that she'd find someone else. Someone who'd treat her better than the way I treated her. I knew she would, everyone was better than me, after all. But I still tried my best. I went to her section to eat lunch with her. She never went to mine. I always waited for her after school dismissal. I made sure that I was already outside before they were dismissed. I knew, after all, that she wouldn't wait for me. It was going well.

Until my luck had run out.

I couldn't go to her during lunch. I had to do something. I hoped that maybe she'd at least visit me at my section.

She didn't.

The teacher had dismissed us late. Technically, it wasn't late, he had dismissed us just five minutes after the bell. But five minutes is too long. I hoped, that maybe, she'd wait for me before going home.

But as I stood there, hands tightly wrapped around the railings, I watched as she walked, her backpack bouncing on her back. She had new friends after all. She no longer needed to wait for me to go home.

I knew I didn't deserve her. But I couldn't give up. I couldn't lose the last friend I had.

I still went to her during lunch, I still tried to catch up to her during dismissal.

But it wasn't enough.

Because we all know my luck is sh*t, I ended up hospitalized due to dengue.

I hoped she'd at least visit me. My classmates told me, however, as they entered the hospital room, that she couldn't.

A week had passed. A week of not eating lunch with her, of not going home after school with her, of not being able to talk to her.

I knew it was over even before I went back to school.

I still tried. Foundation day.

All I wanted was a photo with her in the photo booth.

I waited for her.

She didn't show up.

Anger, at first. Then, resignation.

I knew it was my fault. She was my best friend but I still lied to her. I still manipulated her.

She had every right to walk away from our friendship.

Even when I kept trying to do the right thing.

I went home that day, defeated. Everything had come crashing down to me.

I was completely, utterly, alone.

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My grades were abysmal.
My parents were disappointed.

I've never had grades this terrible before.

I hated school. I hated my life. I hated disappointing everyone.

But most of all.

I hated myself.

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She was my best friend. I held her very close to my heart. I was miserable, but she made everything a little bit better. I began to look forward to going to school. Slowly, my grades got better, and smiling became easier.

But then I went and screwed everything up.

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I hated myself. I hated myself so much. Why wasn't I able to beat my brother? Why wasn't I able to graduate as valedictorian? Why do I always disappoint my parents? Why am I the lesser sibling? Why can't I do anything right?

Every time I looked at a mirror I saw nothing but my flaws. I saw every single mistake, every single screw up, and all of my failures.

I felt ugly and disgusting and stupid and worthless.

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An attitude of superiority that conceals actual feelings of inferiority and failure.

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My superiority complex had festered into narcissism.

I began to treat everyone like crap. Maybe if I made them feel like they were below me, they'd think I was above them.

I turned a blind eye towards the truth. All I saw was what I wanted to see.

Everyone loves me. I'm the smartest. I'm the prettiest. I'm the most important person. Everything revolves around me. Everyone is below me. Everyone is below me. Everyone is below me. Everyone is below me. Everyone is-

above me.

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Lying became my mother tongue.

I lied so often I became so good at it.

I manipulated everyone around me.

I lied to get what I wanted. I lied to get people to pity me. I lied to get people to live me. I lied to get them to treat me as if I was some kind of princess.

I lied to my parents about how I was doing so well in school, how I was the best in school. I lied. And lied. And lied.

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My brother graduated from QCSHS with a bang. He was in the first section, and was in nearly all of the organizations in the school. He was the president of the school's Supreme Student Government and everyone thought he was amazing.

My parents were so proud of him.

I hated it.

My brother didn't get in Philippine Science High School, so I wanted to get in. But I didn't prepare that much for it, didn't even bother studying for the entrance exam. I didn't make it. My parents didn't mind.

But I did.

I got into QCSHS, and was ready to finally beat him. To finally be recognized as the superior sibling, to finally make my parents prouder of me-

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SSPP (Scuola San Pio di Pietrelcina) is no longer a school. The owner of the school became sick and was unable to keep it up and running and refused to sell the school.

The school moved from Don Antonio to Batasan a few years ago, after my last year there. The photo below is where it used to be when I was still studying.

My old school, my entire childhood, had been replaced by a community mall. :(

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From preschool all the way to Grade 6, I studied in this school. The School changed its name to Scuola San Pio di Pietrelcina when I was in 6th grade after STI dropped the grade school franchise.

My brother graduated as valedictorian there, but I didn't, and it was a big slap to my face back then.

Jason, my rival since first grade, was the valedictorian. I hated him so much, simply because he was better than me. And I hated the fact that I wasn't able to outdo my brother's achievements.

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We're actually really close now, and I can't imagine life without my big brother.

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Sam is my older brother, born four years before me.

My mom would always tell me how Sam really loved taking care of me when I was just a little baby.

Back then, I couldn't really believe it because somehow, somewhere down the road, we began hating each other. I couldn't stand being in the same room with him, much less breathe the same air.

The fact that I often felt he was smarter and that he made my parents prouder just added more oil to the fire. I wanted to be better than him. I wanted to rub it into his face. I wanted my parents to be proud of me too.

I began to develop a superiority complex.

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I don't really remember much from when I was a child, and I don't have that many photos to help me remember too. I don't remember when I first learned how to walk, how to talk, and I don't remember what I first learned to say.

There is, however, one thing I do remember quite vividly, and it is the first thing I remember.

One of my first memories ever, was me sitting on a chair, dressed in a black polka dot dress, watching as my older brother received a medal for being an outstanding student. My mother turned to me, a smile on her face as she took my brother's medal and placed it around my neck.

I'm not sure but I think I liked the feeling of it hanging around my neck.

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I was born.

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as a child, i never really understood why my older brother hated me, or why my cousins kept fighting with me, refusing to play with me, locking me out of doors, and pushing me away. i never really felt like i was doing anything wrong, but they sure did.

i began to bottle everything up and became defensive. i became so full of hatred.

i wanted revenge.
i wanted to be loved.