Move

Summing it all up, I've probably spent too much time and effort assisting my mother in her ventures. I was the only one who could say yes and do it. I was the only one who was probably brought up to say yes and do it. And currently, I am the only one who says yes, does it and doesn't really mind if it hits the fan.

Fact, yes. Complaint, no.

Why complain if it's a wake up call screaming at me? I've probably done enough that it has spoiled her rotten to make her work sloppy. I spoiled my own mother. I don't want that. Not speaking antagonistically, it's just that it's not good anymore. Too much isn't good.

I'm done thinking. It's time to move.

My sister's leaving for San Francisco this August and with that, I'll probably have less holding me back from doing what I must and doing what I want.

I want a life that is mine.

And it's about to begin, with but a thought, I've already created.

A very special friend of mine told me earlier that I should stop being so nice. I guess he didn't mean it the way I read it over my mobile, via SMS. Right, I was so nice that I was aching to help clean other peoples' back yards forgetting about mine in the equation.

I'm not being selfish here, but I've a gut feeling this isn't how it's supposed to work. My mother had parents too. She had to elope with my dad to get a life of her own. Maybe her parents had their tentacles everywhere that it choked like virgin ass. For a time, she probably hated their guts and for the moment she's somewhat exactly like them. Ironies of ironies, eh?

I will do this. But why? Ok, there has to be an answer. Why will I do this? For myself? Yes, probably but that's not the entire answer to it. I have to become better and stronger I guess. I've to do this because I do not have enough power and influence to make the changes I want as of yet, so I guess I'll start moving slowly but surely, with this goal in mind.

I wanna make changes. For myself because this is going to hit others. This is going to wake fatso, downstairs, in his room, up in a way that he's going to really want to wake up and do things. This is going to make mom realize that nobody should be, be it your kids or your employees, expendable and it is a terrible mistake to run away from your errors and let others fix it for you.

To that friend of mine who texted that sagaciously received SMS, I know he'll be the first one reading this now.

I see him as a towering inferno searing with passion for what he does and he is not the type to let things easy on anyone when he does his craft. No, actually that's what others and most would probably see him. To me, he is one of those few good men left on earth who know the very essence of honor and respect, though he may not be the type to admit it. He likes acting tough. It's peculiar. And I respect that.

Ah, why respect? He knows the truth about me. He dubs this virus in me 'the shrimp'. Watta Tempura, huh? He is the first in his premise to know it and amazingly embrace it. Though he noted that he has always been looking for a friend like me.

I called myself one of the 'forsaken'. He believes me to be one of the 'chosen'.

With mere words anyone of us can create something.

This is the true fibre of 'God created man in His/Her own image and likeness.'-- He created us. We create things.

'Chosen'.

I choose to move. I've done too much and it has got them nowhere because they're supposed to do something too.

Easy? No, honestly, no. Everytime I feel the toll racing down my spine, I know I'll be closing my eyes and asking for help within. And I know I won't be closing my eyes just once or twice about this.

I must do this. I must move.

*Snaps for Everyone*