Finally, I am able to post this today. What did they say about freedom? When you are able to speak about something without any restraint, and that for me is finally living a life of no baggage. Whoa! I never knew freedom tastes this sweet. “A soft reminder: not everything that weighs you down is yours to carry.” Have a sweet life, sweet friends!
Friday night, July 15, 2016.
Fear almost paralyzed me.
It has been said that courage is not the absence of fear, it is the mastery of it. I hear this almost entirely had me whisper to my own ears at times of horror.
Once more, this post is very personal and I won’t hide a single thing that took place. I am not ashamed and I speak not sheepish but sprung rather the pureness from my pen’s heart.
Everyone has a story but not everybody has the courage to say. Everyone has gone through something that is worth telling. Everyone has this.
I believe that there is always hope behind a story, and after each story is a choice. A choice for you to claim being the victim or for you to stand up as a victor.
Yet all stories do not end happily as you wish or may not end sadly as you want to keep away from. But sometimes, they do not promise a perfect finish. And they either break or build you. Whichever… all stories have its dangers and a safe haven of its own.
As I was about to share this, I struggled. First and foremost, I am not proud of my father’s iniquity. I still am. I will never be. Who would? Nobody ever likes to share a secret sorrow not like that of showing feats. Second, I’m clearly clueless of what I am writing. All I know at this moment is to share my heart out.
Assuredly, this happening was never planned as I have posted the past years about how I hailed my father a greeting. As most of you perceived, I never said he is a great man or a man of honor, rather a “worst” and unique daddy whom one strong daughter has become, and I will never get tired of thanking him for that.
A “worst” dad who brings most of the time pain and suffering. It is somewhat sidesplitting as he contradicts the description of a normal father should be doing. A usual father carries peace not tears. But hey… I was reminded once more that my father is not typical, he is exceptional.
So, on that Friday night, my mom sent a message that scared the life out of me. Her every word felt like a thorn that deeply prickled me, and all the more, like a sharp-edged knife that’s slowly cutting me. As quickly as I desired to respond my mom and to research the whole thing, to verify the truth and what was happening, I searched the internet with trembling hands. Man! It frightened me more! How scared as rat I have become! Awful. Horrible. Nasty. Regretful.
Shot dead bodies of drug lords.
Bloodshed on streets.