Today I sat down and took the time to really think about things. About life. About people. And you know what? Something's become a lot madami clear to me. A lot of things, actually.

You know, I've always been one to root for humanity, despite being kicked in the nuts sa pamamagitan ng life on madami than just one, and despite being somewhat of a people's person that would go out of his way to make sure other people had a smile on their faces and could get up the susunod araw like "Bring it the fuck on life". Naturally, I'm just that person.

But during the passed couple of months I've come to realize that even the warmest of hearts can be turned into blocks of ice for other people to chisel at into its just not there anymore.

I've fought through a lot of things with my lips shut and my head held high. Loss. Depression. A broken heart. Old wounds and swords in my back. Leaking whispers from behind doors thought to be closed. Losing my job. Homelessness for a bit on a few occasions, one of those being recently thanks to this COVID bullshit(Yeah. Good fucking job America.). Bridges have been both crossed and burned, some somehow rebuilt even.

As a dude, I was raised being told to suck it the fuck up and deal with it. And so with that mentality, I have. To the best of my ability, I've sucked it all up(...no homo though). All of the backstabbing, the hypocrisy, the lying, the fake. I swept it all under a rug. All for the sake of the people around me, or so I thought.

Funnily enough, I've come to learn that that doesn't mean jackfuck. Never has. Never will.

People expect you to take shit, and take shit, and take some madami shit on tuktok of the pile. They expect you to endure an endless supply of toxicity and not bat an eye. To not crack under so much stress and pressure. To "turn the other cheek" at every backhand, at every mishap. To keep it all bottled up and go about your life just like that. And for a long time I have.

And then the bottle started to crack. Slowly but surely, it did. And with it, I began to find out just how sick and tired people I am. People in general. Or maybe just the people in my life, which has started to spill over.

I've come to learn that people seem to think that the things don't have consequences after they've done them for so long. After I've admittedly allowed it to some degree to go on, hoping that one araw that maybe they'll come around and that maybe, just maybe, things will be different.

Apparently that's a high hope. And high hopes are bound to lead to disappointment. Higher drops are bound to lead to faster falls, in my case. And hoping does nothing.

For some unknown reason, people expect to be able to poke at a madala with pointy and painful jabs of a sharp stick and expect it not to get pissed. Yet when the madala becomes pissed, its the bear's fault for getting sick of an issue that's been festering it and seeking to get rid of it? Because their desire to watch the madala eat some fucking berries and honey isn't met, it's the bear's fault for getting pissed? Laughable.

I've also realized that in some way, I'm somewhat naïve as fuck. And that way is believing that everyone is capable of change and doing better. That everyone has the necessary good within them no matter what kind of fucked up shit they've done(aside from the usual and way madami serious stuff of course,) even if it's been done to me. But now I've accepted that that's a crockpot of bubbling feces straight out of Satan's asshole.

Some people are hypocrites, petty and subliminal as fuck. Selfish, some to degrees that are just disgustingly obvious. Sly and ready to take advantage of the susunod display of kindness to its fullest.

I've helped a lot of people. I've ibingiay a lot of helping hands. But how many can you give when each time you get back less fingers or none? How much can you give to those who could give less of a shit about how you're doing? How long until you just can't give anymore, and they're up and out after their done draining you of all the energy you have? How many people have your back until you can't help them out with their car note, or a bit of their college debt, or bail them out of jail after they did something retarded?

And each time you expect nothing in return. But when you really need help, everyone suddenly becomes the great fucking Houdini and masters the disappearing act. Classic.

Then there's the people who'll tell you that susunod time things would be different. Better. They'll "make it up to you". They tell you all the loops of how they'll make the spaghetti, make the sauce better than its ever been made and roll the meatballs anew. They'll try a new recipe this time.
And then they flip the entire plate in your face and call you a mad lad after you refuse to help clean up the mess made from it again.
Like an idiot, I believed these lies from people one too many times because I mistook it as truth. Because I had so much faith in my fellow human beings that I gave chances to the people who deserved them the least.

The term "Family" is just that to me now. A term. Because I've been passed the point of believing that being related sa pamamagitan ng blood means a damn thing when I've been degraded, hated, and casted out sa pamamagitan ng the very people that's suppose to pag-ibig and help you heal. I consider the couple of people I have left to pray are as true of a friend as they seem madami so family than actual blood relatives. I've met and befriended people who've treated me madami like family than actual family. And that's a goddamn shame.

During the time that I basically had no tahanan and was struggling to get back and forth from work, I've witnessed some of the grimiest, pathetic shit done to a human being from another. The homeless spat on both literally and metaphorically. Shoved aside. Looked at as if they were less than the concrete and dirt that they stood above when a lot of them didn't have a fucking choice to be where they are/were. To have to stoop to the lowest point of their goddamn dignity just to survive. Not even live. SURVIVE. People on nights colder than a fucking freezer having to use liquor that they managed to save up change for to stay warm and not have to suffer as much from 48-63 degree weather, sometimes even colder than that.

Ever tried to make a single loaf of tinapay and can of hashbrowns stretch for three and a half weeks while your deadshit broke and hoping you don't get your shit taken while you're asleep? I have.
But you want to know what's even worse? Having "friends" that are aware of the situation and stuff their faces like mga hayop while you sit sa pamamagitan ng in silence not wanting to ask anyone for anything out of embarrassment after already being shunned for your predicament sa pamamagitan ng the same people you've stuck your neck, arm, leg, and tongue out floor. They say closed mouths don't get fed, yet the ones that want to open get shutdown.

I let a "friend" use my car sometime in August to get to a job interview. Why? Because that's what I fucking do. I help the people that I care about. And you know what happened? My shit got wrecked. And you know what else? He didn't offer to help pay a single penny for the damages. Luckily my insurance at the time was on point and my credit wasn't to shabby either. Go figure.

This Covid bullshit took a good friend, and two good family members. All three were fucking phenomenal people. And though I've never been too good with grieving, I felt obligated to live in their place. To live what they weren't able to. That's been a lot of weight on my shoulders.

I feel exhausted on the inside. Like I've been holding my breath all this time, anxious for a different outcome. Fearful towards things ending up the same.

Yet through all of these trenches of utter dog shit and flat out terrible people, I've found something beautiful.
I've found that I've got this stubbornness that just...won't...let..me lay down and give up.
No matter how bad I want to throw in the towel, toss down the rope, play a solo mission of Russian roulette, etc., I grit my teeth myself and tell myself "It's okay. You're okay.". Even when I'm not.

I want to tap out. Lay down. Throw up the white flag. Stay on the ground pinned while life counts to ten. But every single time, right when I feel like I'm done, I throw my arm up. I kick. I scream. I climb to the tuktok of that deep and dark trench, and I come up swinging.

And from this I've learned that nobody's going to be there for you like you are for yourself. No one is going to spend those devastating nights alone with you asking "When will it end?" but yourself. I came into the world alone and that's how I'm going to leave this bitch. I've come to terms with that.

It's a long ride to the other side on this bus, and if I manage to pick up some people who actually give a fuck and has my back like I'll have theirs, then cool. If not, then fuck'em, my dick is here to suck.

I've grown a lot as a person this year, and I still got a ways to go. But I'll be moving pasulong without the dead weight. Without being the carpet and rug for other people's feet. Without putting people so far before myself that I forget that I'm a human being too. I kept on a mask that kept me ligtas for as long as it could, and now its broken. And I've never felt better. No madami people pleasing. No madami holding everything in until it eats from the inside out.

So if you don't/didn't know me, congratulations. Now you sorta do. You don't like me? Suck a shit and choke, I'm not here to be liked. Wanna talk, chill, be REAL friends? Cool beans, I'm down with it.

Too anyone who's had to go through similar things, don't give up. Find what you need to keep putting one foot in front of the other until your running towards what you want and need head on. We'll make it. We got this. Lets kick life in it's fuckin' teeth.