• Honestly, I don't really have any inspiration in my life anymore. It's been crappy, and I can only think of killing someone, or just sacking a guy in the nuts. I have new friends that came with the new year, and the new school. My old friends.. what even?
    This, is a true, honest story of my own life, in my own thoughts. I've thought it to be tragic, but make of it what you want. I'm surprised at how I turned out, though it does make some sense. I have never, ever, heard a story like mine, and its never been told to anyone. Only my sister knows our story, but this is how I felt.
    You got this far, a pat on the back. Keep reading, and you just might not stop until the end. But, please remember. This is my life. I lived through all these events. Don't say yours has been worse. I never said it was the worst. I happen to know of poverty, cancer, and people dying.
    Since I was little, I grew up knowing my mom, sister, grandmother and cousins. I had a lot of cousins, a lot of extended family, and I love them all. One important figure in my life was missing, and looking back now, I think I'm about to cry already. I was stupid, 1-8 years old before I found out the truth. I didn't learn family life until I was 9-10. So I thought I didn't need a father. I grew up telling all my friends the same line. I grew up telling my teachers each year, choking on my words, having to announce it to the class just because they don't have the patience to let me talk to them alone:
    "My dad is dead."
    Sympathy, pity. I hated it. I never liked being the center of attention, its embarrassing for me. I never liked feeling sympathy or pity for someone else, or for my self for that matter. I knew, even though I was very young, sympathy and pity are different, but the action is the same. I understood that I had to stand on my own one day. So I never accepted it, and pushed it away. Maybe, just maybe, in the process, I pushed away my friends by accident.
    Nursery. The memory is faint. But I remember clearly, holding my mom's hand tightly, and my nursery teacher saying, "Mom's always come back, because they can't bear to lose who they love the most." I only understood that she would be back. My mom held out her pinky, and I took it in my own. For the first time, I learned to stand on my own. I made two friends. They made haste to leave me in first grade. They left me for someone I never knew. I walked around, hands in my pockets, because my nursery teachers words came back: "Mom's always come back." They were not my mother. They would never come back. I was right. I pushed them away, not wanting to hurt myself. In second grade, I made lots of friends. I didn't ever want to push them away. But they did.
    I felt loneliness at such a young age, and knew too much. I was so, completely, distant from everyone else. It was my choice. Even if I did have friends who promised to stay by me, I kept my distance. I was already aching to go home because I knew my mom would let me sit in her lap, and talk to me while we watched shows like Simon on Teletoon. I loved that show. It was my favorite, and she tolerated it to watch with me. But she first noticed something that I didn't.
    When I was upset, or had a bad day, I would take my home reading book out of my bag first thing, and begin to read.
    To this day, I love reading. I immerse myself in the world in which the book takes place. I ask to be left alone because of this. I isolate myself with books. One day, during Silent Reading in third grade, I got paged to the office for a phone call. We didn't know what "Line One" meant, so the class went, "OoooOoo!" I knew what I meant, so I calmly left after my friend tapped my shoulder telling me about the announcement. It was my mom, and she said we were going to LA. Even I knew where LA was at that time. I was so excited. Disneyland, Universal Studios, seeing all my favorite Disney princesses and game characters in one city, the Hollywood Walk of Fame...! I was so excited! My mom promised to tell me everything at home. I was fidgety the rest the of the day.
    "We're going to visit your dad."
    Struck me like lightning to an iron rod. It made no sense. Even I connected the dots. My dad was dead. This. Was impossible. If it was true. I was stupid. I was excited.
    "He's come back alive?!"
    It was not at all what I expected. I expected hugs, kisses, talking and laughing. The thing is, I thought he was dead. I was lied to since I could talk, and remember. It was all that was on my mind in L.A, even at Disneyland. I saw him. His face was mine. I didn't even know his name. I was just.. stunned. After all, I left one part out.
    My dad called us, and I didn't recognize his voice. I was tired, but thats no excuse. He wished us a happy new year, and asked us the typical questions. I was a little dazed. I didn't know the man on the other end.
    I still don't know him to this day.
    I made an effort to. I held his hand, and rode on his shoulders. I tried to hug him, but it was so.. awkward. I hated my time in L.A. Luckily, I'm a great actor. With a smile plastered on my face, I told my friends how fun it was, and how great my dad is. I did have fun with him. We just didn't have that bond that everyone else did. I guess.. I was envious of other kids.
    I went again, but I met my uncle in L.A this time. He was a much better dad than my real dad. Tito Joe (I speak Tagalog) was actually worried about us when we left. He called my mom's cell phone several times, asking if we arrived in our connecting cities okay, even in L.A.! He's great, and really amazing. He makes jokes, and can casually talk to us like he's my sisters classmate, or my best friend. He has two kids, and we never met them that trip.
    Back at home, I was really, really happy about that trip. My tito was so kind, I didn't have to fake my happiness. He bought me coconut candy, my favorite, and I think he could be a replacement for a dad.
    Then, the next year, I drastically changed. I went through "that". My voice changed, I got WAY taller. I was about the same height as my mom. I was more mature, and smarter. But inside, I was still a child, who wanted to play outside with a ball, and chase it around. I can never admit to someone's face, because they see me as someone else. I learned the truth. Most of it. I cried in a restaurant with my sister after she was done her tears.
    I went to the mall with my family. We ate at a sushi restaurant near by. Like everyone else, my dad teased me about looking Japanese, Korean, and Chinese. I spoke Japanese for him, and he was impressed. I felt proud. My mom never complimented me because my sister came first. I felt like we were a real family. We took a family photo there to commemorate it. We joked, laughed, even my sister had a good time. Then, the next day, we did the same thing. This time, we split up in the mall. In the mall, my sister and I bonded a lot. We talked and laughed, and probably looked like best friends. We ate at the sushi place again, had a good time. Then, I met my second cousins the next day. Rocky and Jem (Short for their real names, of course). We didn't talk at all. It was awkward.
    The next day, our last day in L.A. (Because we went to Las Vegas for two days), it was spent with our dad. I chose to eat at Jollibee and Chow King. My sister didn't want Chow King so we went to Jollibee while my mom and dad ate at a Filipino restaurant next door.
    My sister, she was really mad. I finally asked her why she was so sour when dad as near. Her exact words were like a stabbing to the heart.
    "You don't know, do you? They never told us anything. Tito Mario told me in Vancouver. I hate him. He ruins everything. Your just, like, happy, holding his hand, hugging him, daddy.."
    A tear rolled down her cheek, and I told her, I wanted to make an effort, no matter how small or trivial it was. In our argument, I called her a b*****d. She said I was too. She proceeded to ask me if I knew the definition. I didn't. I don't call anyone a b*****d anymore, because it reminds me of this moment.
    "A b*****d is a person who is born without the parents being married. Your a b*****d, and so am I. Dad doesn't love us. Only because of the law he's with us."
    I didn't know if this was true or false. But I had faith in her. I cried. I didn't know. I thought he loved us, despite only knowing us as small kids who grew up.

    I had this one hardship, and it had the biggest impact on my life. Earlier, our cousin died. Our dad was never informed. I say now, I have no father. He's a stranger who came and went in my life, and reappeared like game data thats been erased, but put onto a USB. Thats my father. Shy, just like my sister.
    I had one boyfriend. I don't regret it. I tell everyone I do, for the sake of him.
    True, he was more of an outcast than I, but I truly cared for him, be it love or not. It lasted for 6 months. So why do I tell everyone I regret it? Due to the fact that he denies us going out.
    I ranted about this already. But he's not adding me on MSN, and ignoring me in real life. I hate it. I need someone to talk to. And he's not there for me. No one is.
    I'm a loner. I live with books, and my best friend is my sister.
    My supposed best friend steals everything from me.
    My one boyfriend? He broke up with me, because he liked her,
    One of my friends I made? She didn't like him. Now their closer than I am with him, even though she hardly took the effort to know him.
    Homework? I told her my idea, and she took all the credit. I got zero for "copying her."
    Bullies? I can't rely on her. But shes all I got, give or take.
    My real friends? They are there for me. My friend who did this crap to me doesn't like them, therefore, I can't hang out with them.
    I'm alive, and your reading this. Great job. ;D
    So I dumped her as my friend, and kept my real ones.
    We share a locker. But she's no longer my friend.
    No more standing u pfor you. I'm tired of my life, doing so much without anything in return.
    ****
    This is my life. Yours could be similar. I cried writing this. But I feel good.
    My dad? We're on good terms. He called today, and we had a good chat for 5 minutes.
    My friend? It's hard to look at her.
    To you:
    You've gotten this far. Thank you. You've just listened to half of my life. Do you regret this? If you do, I'm sorry. If you don't.. I want to know you.