The Child's Play

A couple of days back, I suddenly felt the feeling of being seventeen. Some more years and I'll be off to face the real living world, where real-life drama and intricate struggles will sure be a huge inevitable phase of it. Playing with life without ease is one thing you should start changing from yourself, because I'm sure that everybody my age will be deprived from replays and turning back this time.

Contemplating about what could come after college, I felt entirely naked. Naked in a sense that I'm seeking for some strength within me, strength that could smoothly glide my old-boat through a lane of thorned stones. It's not about being scared, or having felt the feeling of losing your strong self. I know I'm strong. I can slit your throat and cuss you to death if provoked, and I must admit that I get myself into endless wrangles sometimes, but I'm talking about the strength needed to face future responsibilites that come as a whole with life.

I'm not really paranoid with the fact that life will soon throw you with immense problems, and circumstances will appear as if done in conspiracy. But I'm afraid that life is starting to push me, push me towards the clear road to future. I lived my life the way carefree people lived theirs, and I must say I didn't grow up with responsibilites placed around me, responsibilities that had to be done independently. I turned down the opportunity of studying away from my parents, and opted to adhere myself in my comfort zone. I'm afraid I might end up miserable in meeting up with obligations; obligations and responsibilities that I must perceive, understand, and fully imbibe in myself. It's like facing a whole new world without superior guidance or authority.

Seventeen years must be real long, but it could've felt longer and much greater if it was lived with substance. I use to think about myself alone, and material things that can easily come in possession once I do good in school. I've been entirely narcissistic, living a self-centered life that only think about my self advantage. I party, danced out to sheer exhaustion, get drunk, get wasted, throw up, and wake up the next day with a headache and a bad stomach. Something which I used to do in a routinary way --- Fridays or Saturdays. On the other hand, school has been something in which you could possibly link with plain mediocrity. I used to do really, really good in school, without losing my spot in our class' top 5 list. I can strain my eyes on life-sized books when needed for a test. But everything seemed to turn quick when I came to thirst for what they call worldliness. Something teenagers like me long for everytime they find out about the hype and thrill of being bad, mean, and fierce-looking. Yes, of course, teenagers try hard to climb the social ladder to get his/herself up in the immaculate social scene, where heaven and hell seem to ironically mix, and, later on, become a huge part of it. And there the thought of being trying hard starts to vanish.

Back in enrollment for the second semester of this year, I was on queue for some school assessments which basically is required for readmission. I failed my FYCF (First Year Christian Formation) for the first semester, so I had to be deliberated by the school council for me to be readmitted again. I didn't have any failing grades, though I'm not as much as contented with my other grades compared to what I got in College Algebra. I believe that I didn't fail out of academic premises, or because I did not do well in class. I actually did. I jot down every emotional journal notes to be passed everyday, not to brag, but I really do get great remarks. There will always be a side of me that will remain emotional.

Back to my point, while I was on queue, a recent enemy crossed my way, with golden locks almost as exact as mine, and with white skin twice as pale as what I have. I really don't mind that we both look the same; I knew better, for sure. I didn't start anything annoying that could make him feel uncomfortable, nor did I act fiercely mad. Nothing. I just sit and did the usual way of talking as if nobody's there. I never felt terrorized with his presence, never, really. And never will I be scared, in whatever manner, never. Then he started acting so completely retarded in front of me, with raised eyebrows that almost reached his hairline, and compulsive body movements that boasts out thinking he's superior. I almost laughed. I never thought normal human beings could actually take the risk of almost putting injury on their facial tissues just to look fierce, that honestly, it just turned out to look funny. Seeing someone act so retarded must be a real comedic scene. But in the contrary, the usual emotional being that I am, my rage and heartfelt hatred started creeping up my system, that I was already on the verge of standing up, and start real chaos -----without even thinking of the proper place that we should be in. But I didn't. I just sit back, tried to relax and let loose of the force on my fist. I thought of all the things I've done to him. All the bruise-causing insults I've thrown at him. All the shitloads of curses, all the verbal abuse. But he didn't fight back. Not even a single revenge done at my conciousness. None. Then I started to think back about what I've read about Oprah. She's in total belief with the saying that whatever you give to the world will also be given back to you. And then I came back to my normal self, again with the vivid scene of lined-up students inside a freezing crowdy room. He stopped looking. Maybe because I also stopped staring. I realized I've already been too mean towards him, that I forgot about human respect and the huge amount of congeniality that I was brought up to. I admit I've been a total badass, especially at times when I publicly humiliate him with my punching words, that he'd just nod down and act as if nothing's happened. And then again I thought back of Oprah, especially when she mentioned about happiness. Basically, I'm happy. I've always been happy. I get what I want and I earn truckloads of friends that I need, but there will always be something that's missing. Nothing's really perfect, but I know I could crawl to the point where I feel completely perfect. If you think something is missing in your life, and you're not getting what you deserve, remember that there's no Yellow Brick Road to happiness. As what Oprah said, "You lead life; it doesn't lead you". Genius. Extremely Genius.

I am only a kid with a heart for my actions. I am trying to become a better person, because I now realized the truth about my life. I am faced with God's eternal question of either living the life that was meant for me, or be stifled by the one I was living. You see, I dream big at seventeen. BIG. Really, really BIG. I once dreamt of establishing a world president, and that would be me, and I would be a multimedia artist at the same time, with fans dying to have their picture taken with me, all in one holy package. That was when I was seven. I'm happy that I'm gifted with talents, a great mind, and clear understandings toward life. It's just that I'm not putting much effort of working it out. Soon, I will aim high for things to boil down at one goal---for me to achieve life without any negative forces that could thwart my dreams. At this moment, I'm not yet ready to leave the life that I am living. I'm not yet ready to give up my drunken nights, my pointless decisions, my childish monologues----the six year old spoiled brat trapped in a grown-up's body. Maybe not now, but slowly... surely. Someday, I will become my own ideal person. A person who plays life with ease. A person with distinct substance, a person who knows better. A person who appreciates clean fun, sincere smiles. The Sun. The Gentle Breeze. The Crickets, and all the shooting stars. A person who can lead life past mediocrity. A person leading a life that's a far cry from a narcissistic point of view
of a child's play.

Playing with cars & voodoo dolls,
ROLLY