More than Anything, I Think of Death

I can't think of anything else. 

For over two years now.

Every fucking day.

I can’t even talk about it with other people.

I can't even write a fucking poem about it.

But ------

"Fuck this shit" - the first thing that comes to my mind when I wake.

"I wish I was dead" - the second.

I eat every goddamn thing I wanna eat at every fucking meal, because, hey, this just might be my last supper, so yeah, I’m gonna reach for that strawberry smoothie, Extra Big pancit canton, half of a large bag of salted caramel Kettle Corn, liempo and chicken curry with one rice, oh and iced mocha for dinner. I’m not going to eat some “whole wheat grain” like I was some fucking farm animal.

Then I get fat.

“But I don’t wanna die fat and look fat in my coffin…” I would think.

So I’d go to the gym.

Fucking shit.

I’d go to school and “stress” over my thesis. The distress caused not by the requirement itself, but the recurring thought in my mind:

“Why go to school? Why bother making writing a “great” thesis?

You’re gonna die anyway.

Oh, and you know when exactly, right?

Is it after the Lantern Parade this year? Nope? Well last year, you said it was after the Lantern Parade. But then your grandmother died. You thought it was a “sign” from somewhere. You pathetic cunt.

Is it after you get the tattoo?

Is it after attending the PAPJA, or Dinagyang, Ati-Atihan, or Got Jelly? A first and last festive hurrah. Perhaps a first kiss or first sex? Hmmmm.

No wait, it’s before you graduate!

Yep, that’s right. You can’t stand idea of coming home to Bacolod, right? But that was never your home! Oh yeah, you were never at home anywhere, really. YOU FUCKING LOSER. You piece of shit.”

My cousin even planned on us on going to Cebu after graduation, but I couldn’t take it seriously. I’m gonna be dead anyway.

I try to keep up with my “friends” or be a good “friend” to certain people, but the very act drains me. They weren’t there when I was at my worst. Especially last year. I was bawling my eyes out at 4AM, thinking of ways on how to pull off that suicide after the Lantern Parade without anyone noticing. Til morning, that is. I’d lay down on a mat at the center of our university’s field, methodically down 300 Biogesics in an hour (others committing suicide down them all in one go. Rookie mistake), then deeply cut my wrist to make sure I’d finish the deed. Or perhaps use a gas mask instead of slitting my wrist. I’ve seen where I can order one from the internet. I still wanna avoid pain as much as possible. Been in a lot of ‘em these past years. I wanna go away peaceful, peaceful even just this last time.  

 Friends. Psssh.

Yep, they’d go ahead and make different friends when you’re no longer “fun”.

WELL FUCK YOU IF I DON’T SEEM THAT FUN TO YOU ANYMORE. SORRY I WAS TOO BUSY BEING INTENTIONALLY DEPRESSED AND SUICIDAL. AND YEAH, BEING DEPRESSED WAS TOTALLY MY CHOICE.

And if you don’t get my sarcasm, then you are one dumb fucker.

OH YEAH, AND YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT ANYWAY. YOU CALLOUS, SELF-CENTERED, SELFISH DUMBFUCK.

Go on, make other friends and fleet off to Guimaras to have escapades with your new “friends” (who used to be your crush by the way). I mean, I don’t mind if you make other friends, people branch out, it happens.

Go on and rub it in my face too. Rub it in my sleep – deprived, cry bagged eye bags. Rub it in my ass too.

But the thing is you never checked up on me. Not even once. You even smugly remarked on my woes. Never told you anything again. Have you noticed how I don’t initiate a conversation with you unless I absolutely had to?

Remember how much fun you had that time, Rochelle?

 How it was one of the best things you have experienced in college? Well, I was having the worst ones of my life.

Some friend you are.

Fuck. I hope I can say this to your face.

Now, you are having a hard time because of your break up. Honestly, I know that hurts, but that’s petty. You don’t end your life for that. Grieve if you must. Grieve it out, but not to me.

You were never there for me, so a deep, dark part of me wants justice, so I won’t be there for you either.

I don’t want to talk about your woes. Notice how I’d wave you off with a “Dats layp”?

Well, it’s true. That’s how life is. Thanks for being one of the people who made me realize that.