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Tell Us About Yourself

I have been in quite a few interviews this month and the only question that they keep on asking me is: "Tell us about yourself".

I would tell them I love food that's why I eat every 30 minutes, if not 30, then 15.
I would tell them I compose songs.
I would tell them I love writing poetry.
I would tell them I write stories.
I would tell them I blog.

But I have never told anyone these:

My mother died 5 years ago, while my father died 2 years ago, and yet their death sank into me when I saw their death certificates just a month ago. I realize that they are actually dead and nothing can change that. I read the words that said that my uncle is our legal guardian, and quite involuntarily, tears started running from my eyes.

I went to my sister and she laughed saying that I just realize that our parents are actually gone, and she told me that being successful will be our greatest gift that we can give to our family who treats us as their own children. And I guess that's something to remind me to keep holding on, because that's how we survive this jungle-like life.

I am also afraid to laugh too hard, because once tears comes up because of laughing too much, it's not the so-called "tears-of-joy" anymore. I am actually crying. Everyday, I would hold myself back and remind myself to smile, because smiles are contagious, and I know a single smile can make anyone's day, and that's enough. Gotta appreciate the little things, right? But then again, I want to cry. I want to cry when I am alone, I want to cry when I see parents having fun with their children, and I want to cry when I see kids telling their parents they love them, because that's just too beautiful. They have parents to open up to and here I am hoping that they won't suffer the way that I am suffering now.

I tend to look for my parent's faces in the crowd until now, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they'll actually show up. Sometimes I would wish to wake up suddenly hearing my father's loud knocking on my room's door, or maybe wake up hearing my father's playlist being played on our terrace, and better yet, wake up after sniffing my mother's delicious cooking.

I love the rain because I remember my father taking care of me when I was still sick on a rainy day. He would wake me up and feed me with his newly cooked dish, and tell me that I should get well sooner so I can go to different places and have fun. But then, I hate the the sound of rain pattering loudly on a roof because I always get nervous when I hear it, it reminds me of an awful past. 



I am traumatized.

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