I used to write a lot.
This penchant to write down my thoughts started back when I was in 5th grade. This habit to write only started after a quite terrible misunderstanding with my Mom. I had no idea how to relieve myself from frustration so I screamed at the top of my lungs – so hard that no sound would ever come out off my mouth after that.
There were no sounds. Just tears streaming like it was the end of me.
Our household help at the time, Nana Pacing ran to my side for fear that something bad happened to me. She hurriedly checked my pulse, my arms, legs – every part of my body was scrutinized. It was as if, she was looking for clues to justify my painful scream. And she found nothing. No bruises, no scratches, no blood. Just a tearful and saddest version of my face she has ever seen.
No words came out from her either. She just rendered me a warm hug to console my pained, little heart.
As soon as she realized that she can talk some sense to me, Nana Pacing handed me a black Pilot pen and a neat crosswise paper. She said that when I feel the need to relieve myself from any pain, I should write my thoughts down.
And ever since then, I have been writing. I have learned to put up a happy and brave face even when deep within me, I was screaming in pain. The only weapons I keep were my pen and notebooks. I refused to talk about my pain to anyone, but my diary. I harboured a lot of painful stuff inside me that will later affect my heart – literally.
And then 2004 came – I finally found my voice. I can finally talk about things that bother me without having to hide them from anyone. It was overwhelmingly relieving experience for me. But something happened to me along the way and I shifted back to a past habit. I grew silent even when I am with people and my thoughts will do the talking for me. I refuse to entrust my innermost thoughts to anyone – not even to someone I will later marry.
Over time, I have realized that my thoughts – be it good or bad or plainly blahs, are my most treasured stuff. It cannot be taken away from me. And someone cannot just simply use it AGAINST me.
Sure, I still smile. I try to laugh more often. Look at the brighter side of things. Crack a joke or two. Say “hi” or break a smile when I bumped into an officemate, a classmate or someone I just plainly knew by face or otherwise. Show off my cheery self.
But you will never know what goes on inside my head the moment I grow silent.
