Why are you sitting this one out?


Where most of " The Invalid" was drawn from:


I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s because I don’t really want to wait for the day when the "shit hits the fan", & there I’d be whimpering like a puppy and bawling like a mental institute (—) since nothing really ever does go well for me when it comes to love.

It’s not as if I haven’t been weeping like a child , already. I’ve wept like a starving infant. I’ve turned my back on a phone trying to reach me eleven [11] times. Why wouldn’t I turn away when you’ve just hit me on the head repeatedly with a stick or caned me, or something that the gods do in puppet theater to make the mortal run away from the blows, howling like the stupid mortal that he is?

That was the last time we fought. It was my sister’s birthday, and I had already missed her birthday dinner, because another argument had started, and guess what we were fighting about? The god didn’t want love letters from the dirty, filthy, common human being. The god even throws in a godly denial. You know…the kind that has him saying, ‘i don’t think those of you, you might be the one who thinks those things about yourself, and you’re deflecting those things on me..’

blah, blah-blah-blah, blah, blah.

and i’m sitting on the floor with a high-fever, runny nose, swollen eye lids, and my shirt is wet with perspiration and i’m crying again…asking heaven to lighten up on me, a bit.

should i tell this man what i think? i think that you don’t think those of me, because, you know what? you never think of me, at all. that’s the truth, isn’t it? i don’t even need you to be honest about this. it’s even in a Lea Salonga pop song~ " it doesn’t take a genius, to read between the lines…"

but Lea’s duet with Brad Kane goes like this:

Anyone who’s seen us
Knows what’s going on between us
It doesn’t take a genius
To read between the lines
And it’s not just wishful thinking
Or only me who’s dreaming
I know what these are symptoms of
We could be in love


and i snicker, since sarcasm is one of my bad traits [ i can’t help being sarcastic~ it’s something that comes with being bitter about every other single thing, since every other single thing has never gone my way ]

yea, sure. we could be in love..’cept for one thing..



easy for me to nod and reason out, but younger people should be more forgiving, understanding, and should always give way?


…been my lover for almost two years now. each night, i close the night lamp and the air conditioner hums

and my room catches the orange light from the electric post outside my bedroom window. it’s always you, a tired and weary you in your light blue polo who sleeps with me every night. Just sleeping~you know~the way of real lovers.

even if the room does only have one person in it. Me.

[one thing i love about him is how he’s the type who’d hook an arm around the back of my neck, so a lazy, unmoving hand merely rests just below my collar bone~ & since i’m smaller and even tiny compared to him, my "sleeping head" will be situated where i can hear his heart]

that’s one of my francess traits~ i listen to heart beats. my mom’s, my grandmum’s[when i was growing up] grandpa’s heart beat, Pah’s heart, Steph’s heart…

i know that someone loves me if he does the same thing~ listen to my heart beating. only my doctor does this, and that’s because i’m a patient. Steph, never did. i think my ex-best guy friend did, once~ he thought i was dead.. but i don’t remember…maybe i just imagined it…he was watching over me, the day after i almost died accidentally taking too much valium.

ex-best guy friend recently wanted to make up for being so shitty towards me~ i had to sit it out too, with him.

i proposed marriage to ex best guy friend, a few years back. i told him that it would be our best revenge on our college mates who thought we were losers. i said,’ look at it this way~ imagine how they’d feel, if they saw us on college reunion night~ we’d look and be happy, i’d be chubby and smell like talcum powder, with our first baby. would we really care if stephen is there wanting to kill himself already, for being such an ass~ & by default, you’d really be the star there since you won for yourself, a trophy wife’

he almost said yes. but instead, he said, he had to think about it, because he was jealous of steph. ‘ sure, you’d be my wife, but we both know that you’ll love him ’till you die…i want to wait until you stop saying his name, every time i talk to you.’

‘ news flash, i don’t know how to stop saying his name. but it doesn’t mean it’s because i still love him. i want him to die ahead of me. sometimes i feel that i’ll only be able to be happy again after he dies. last year, oct 17, i went home to the news of the Makati bombing. the first thing i asked my mom was, ‘ was stephen in the list of those who died?’ i asked in tagalog…like this…" o, makati? hindi pa ba naisama si stephen sa mga namatay? wala nanaman ba siya ‘dun?" ~ and i wasn’t joking.

that’s what i think of someone who is too proud to admit that he already had, "the One" many years ago.

& that’s what i think of someone who said , " do you know why you’re acting like that? because you know that i’m the best one for you."

And i say this: you know that you’re the best one for me, so why leave?

You leave because you’re a sadist. You leave me with this burden of your bullshit. I can’t let it go since you weren’t lying~ why the hell am i still unmarried if you were lying~ so please, go ahead , and die already.

that’s love for you~ Filipino style. you hurt each other since there are just too many social factors that won’t leave you two alone, leave you to be happy. you end up wishing one of you dies.

but i want him to go ahead of me. but then, there are some days, that i don’t think of him, at all.

he’ll never win me back anyway. he’ll end up marrying someone ‘perfect’ and go home to a house full of lies, a wife he can never please, and all the other shitty things~ the stuff that happens with this…’ that’s what you get for chasing someone perfect’

and most days, i thank god for~ even if it was a merciless blessing~ saving me from a womanizer.

my Grandfather was very loyal to my grandmother. he was a clean politician and a clean lawyer. he was home at 7pm. he never hurt my grandma, physically. he allowed grandma to do everything that would make her happy.

those were the days when a woman who played the piano, and sang all around the house, and read literature, was considered a ‘ lovely addition to the household’ ~ it didn’t matter if she was a little bit expensive, as long as she paid for her luxuries. ~ and Grandpa gave her his waller every payday.

that’s my dream. ‘ francess…sweetheart… here’s my wallet..be good and take care of me, yea? just don’t forget that i like tawilis cooked inside banana leaves with not so thick potato broth every sundays, and i like red meat ~[ that was grandpa’s favorite fish soup, and kanduli sa miso ]

~yes, Grandpa, that’s why you died, early. you big, red meat eater. oh man, that’s another thing. i like my red meat, too. Sole and Beef. That’s all I eat. I don’t like chicken and I don’t eat pork, ever since 1999. I saw a video about how they slaughter pigs. But i’ve watched how they butcher cows, and i didn’t feel as much pity. because my source of protein is largely from beef.

Why couldn’t i be like my sister Vanessa, and have a Hindu luvie who eats Jollibee hamburgers? I watch my sister and my brother -in- law and sometimes i want to puke, watching them. out of envy. What? sibling rivalry never goes away, you know? My brother-in-law even gives me a cheeky smile, telling me about how much he likes beef kaldereta. i roll my eyes. ‘ yes, ok. dear brother in law. i get it.’ Man, Van is so lucky, talaga.

(Fran…Van…Cess..Ness…Francess & Vanessa…F and V. ~ fighter and victorious….~rolling eyes here) i never win, i’m just a fighter…

[ grandpa also called grandma francess~ that’s why my Ma chose this name for me.]

hmmmm, ‘ francess..sweetheart..here’s my wallet. be good and take care of me, ya? just don’t forget that i don’t eat beef, or pork, and i’m a vegetarian….’

‘francess…what are you doing? what is my lazy wife, doing? ah you. just because you’re pregnant. who is going to cook dinner? you know i’m too busy […and lazy] to do the cooking around here’ ~ ‘i suppose i could go with the instant maggie me tonight…but tomorrow night, you better take care to feed your husband, ya? ah you. that had better be a boy…

funny…the way that these are only dreams that won’t materialize. nice dream, though. if only god would close his eyes, sigh, and say…’ alright, francess..let’s try giving you one of your dreams..for a change’

in reality, i won’t take my husband’s wallet. i’ll be giving him, mine.



Raymond Carver shouldn’t have written that "eating rolls, is a small, good, thing"… he should have written, "sleeping, is a small, good, thing…"

i don’t even like raymond carver, he’s like a male version of margaret atwood, to me.




the last thing i remember was telling him that i know he’ll eventually hurt me, in the end. so what?risk to love and hurt me. but not this. this, this is just "hurt me". and it’s cowardice.

another smirk. because what happened next, was a long bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, fading away to silence. like a television screen flashing Technicolor then, shutting down.

hahahahahaha. so much for being young and brave, then. i’m back in year 2001, and i’m singing ‘ now i’m chasing rainbows with the losers in the class~ everything happens to me’

w/ no one else but good old frankie.

i’m no loser..although…

i’ll never win, i’m just a fighter…





Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s