Personal Thoughts : Alone Contributed by nescafe_ice13 (Edited by mananalaysay)

Puerto Princesa, Palawan – I’m in one of the most beautiful city in the Philippines, but I cannot find any joy in it. I have the hotel room all to myself, with the TV remote in my hands, but I don’t feel good about that fact. I’m watching Marlou Aquino, my all-time favorite basketball player, demolish the competition, but I can’t cheer as he slams one home. I should be happy, but I find myself crying while trying to find refuge by writing. I am alone, and I hate this feeling. Maybe when someone I know reads this, s/he would either be amused or incredulous, because I am rarely sad, let alone crying. To most of my friends and acquaintances, I am the female version of Patch Adams, excessively happy. Your usual class clown, people have known me to elicit at least a good laugh when I walk in a room (considering that I’m corny and all). A friend told me I radiate happiness, saying that when she wants to confront somebody, she would not go near me, because I can melt that anger away. My family has known me as the crazy one, doing things that drive the whole family to stitches. I radiate so much happiness; my mother cannot believe how I can get all that positive energy. But right now, I cannot muster even a smile to show it to the world. I am alone, and I hate it. Growing up, I have been independent. Childhood stories from my aunts relate that when I have my books, food and Sesame Street, I could be left alone to fend for myself. My parents were both working when I was a kid, until my mom stopped working when my younger sister was born. During that time, I was with my yaya, teaching me how to dress and bathe myself and do my homework. When my parents come home from work, I’m fed and bathed, watching television until my bedtime. I rarely ask for help, except for maybe financial things (read: allowances). This is the usual reason when my parents and I have a row—I just ask for their help when I need money. Thinking about it, I feel so alone, and I hate it. Now that I am working, I am more independent than ever. My work requires me to go out of town, and for some of my friends this is their idea of a perfect job. In my happier moments, I think the same thing. Imagine going around the country, visit places as exotic and beautiful as I am right now, the office not just taking the tab, but paying you for it. Fabulous, right? But this means there are times that I have to travel alone and like right now, be in a hotel room all by yourself with only the television and rare text messages (thank goodness, Globe reaches Palawan!) from friends and family to keep me company. I was encouraged to explore the city, but circumstances have denied me from doing so, aside from the fact that I am scared to go alone (growing up in a city like Manila, with strict parents in tow, robs you of that sense of adventure). Or maybe it’s just me—I don’t want to be seen alone, and I hate this feeling. I guess I am not used to being this alone in so far a city, away from family and friends in a place where I thrive in the pollution and the traffic. I wish it would be at least tomorrow, so I could start to do what I have been sent here to do, so that the day after tomorrow would only be a day away, and my boss would already be here for a meeting, and the next day I would fly back to Manila. That way, I can make things bearable and I can easily be comforted by what Little Orphan Annie said, “Tomorrow’s a day away”. Maybe it’s just me, but don’t you find it hard to eat by yourself? Or go watch a movie by your lonesome? Or maybe go sightsee? (self-confessed loners are exempted from answering). In my case, it is. Maybe I’m used to be surrounded by a lot of people and laughter when I go out to do that. Maybe I’m scared of the stares of pity people give your way. Maybe because I’m in the middle of an emotional roller-coaster and I don’t know what to do except cry while I channel surf. I am all alone, and I hate this feeling.