fighting a losing battle

I was born a fighter. Been fighting ever since I was born. Been fighting for attention against my siblings. Can you blame me if I was spoiled as a child?! Come preparatory school I fought against going to class. I can still remember how I cried when my Nanay left me that first day of school and the weeks that followed. I was so attached that even when I was in sixth grade during the week-long Central Luzon Regional Encampment in Novaliches, I cried sa tent nila ate after my parents left the campsite. Kaya siguro hindi ko kayang magmigrate abroad coz I get homesick. During high school, I fought against the odds and settled on getting the sixth spot even if I had a late start. Not to mention the wide array of extra-curricular activities I used to belong which was hard to get a balance from my acads. I fought against the competition in UPCAT and the surprised faces of people who can't believe that I really passed UPCAT! Didn't even enroll in review classes just like what others did. While in UP, I fought for survival. Fought the stiff competition of staying or leaving. Settling with my course as against searching for what I really want. In the end, I got my diploma for Statistics. But my greatest fight was in 2005 when Nanay left. She left with a heavy heart, I continued living with a heavy heart. She left without me saying sorry for everything that I've said and done. That sucks! Maybe my ultimate low.

For the past two months, I've been fighting against leaving or staying. I was hostaged by the circumstances and it was hard to escape. Not that I wanted to but the surge of emotions was just overpowering. It was way beyond my emotional capacity. Maybe like a state of nirvana and then suddenly *poof*. Everything's gone! It's as if I was in the brink of collapsing, self-destruction. It's quite surprising that this is how I feel considering it was just a short span of months. Not even the longest. But in this situation, time is irrelevant. A minute may just be a minute to everyone else but may be a century for me. It's as if a forever cut short so unexpectedly. Those two months were a rollercoaster ride. A consistent uphill-downhill ride. But sometimes, that's the best experience that one can have. The thrill of falling and the excitement of fighting to come back on top. But then again, falling helplessly may be the worst experience that one may get. Thinking of waving the white flag scared me. And it scares me until now. I never liked losing. I dont think anyone does. But sometimes, accepting the loss may be the start of healing. A supposedly no-brainer decision. How can you move on to the next if you're in the state of denial all this time. But thinking of all the things that had happened, all the emotions poured in, all the memories shared, all the future plans that went down the drain, still I would want to be in the denial stage. Was this just one of my nightmares? Would it help if you slap me in the face so I can wake up just now? I wanted things just like before. Or do I dream too much?

Now, I'm waving the white flag. I got tired of fighting the losing battle. How can I continue if the very reason I'm holding on has already given me up? Those two months were sufficient to reassess everything. Decisions have been made. Decisions that I can't over-rule and just have to accept as it is. This will be hard. Moments will come when I would still feel at a lost in everything. But this should be the start of healing. And moving on to the next. It may have been a hard habit to break, but I have to move on. Yes, and the song by Christian Bautista will still be my most favorite song. Coz that will remind me that once in my life, I've had you. And I will continue rekindling the memories until I move on to the next.

So may I use the slogan of the new Avon campaign (even if I hate that Arlene Sarmiento so much)...