Hey Kids. I'm turning 30 tonight. I know it's no big deal if you're still in your twenties or if you're way past 30, but if you're 29 and on the verge of reaching the "line of threes" then you can't help but feel like you're reaching a milestone, you're just not exactly sure what.

At this point I feel like I'm about to turn over a new leaf, but don't we all get this feeling on our birthdays? You suddenly become conscious that with every millisecond you're both the youngest you'll ever be and the oldest you've ever been. You can almost envision your atomic particles reassembling themselves (I have no scientific reference on this) to create a new you every second. A birthday highlights it, with cakes and greetings and a new number to assign as your age for the next 365 days.

My point though is: I don't feel like 30, if there's feeling associated with being 30. Sure I don't have the same stamina, will to live, and metabolism I used to have in my twenties but I still have the same view of the world: I think it kind of hates me, so I hate it back. I still feel like my old adolescent self.

The other day my mother asked me when I plan to get married. I said Whaaat, NOPE. Not in my early thirties.

You expect a guy who keeps dirty dishes in the fridge because he doesn't want to deal with them yet to get married? You think I can be responsible for another human being? I can't even properly clean my bathroom, I just douse every surface with muriatic acid until all I see is white. I can cook, if you want to eat cancer. I simply can't deal with children (eww), and even more so, another adult, 24 hours a day for the rest of my life. I would really rather worry about the skin behind my ears exfoliating because I think it starts to smell like cheese. My biggest anxiety about my father is if he's losing his hair because I'm scared I might inherit male pattern baldness and I kinda like my hair.

I think my mother thinks that the fact I've been taking care of my monthly bills is a semblance of being a responsible adult. Mother, for days now I've been contemplating buying an extra battery and spare charger for my phone just because I don't like that my phone gets hot when I use it while charging, and after that I want to buy an entirely different phone. I am not the reponsible adult you think I am.

She asked, Who's going to take care of you when you grow old? (If I grow old right?)

I said, You!

She said, Not me!

I said, Then no one.

She won't let it rest, so we settled with one of my little nieces, she'll take care of me when I'm old(er). She doesn't know yet.

It's a too distant future and I don't want to think about it. My stand on it will either remain or change in the coming years. But today, *unpopular opinion* I kinda.... hate kids? Why should I get married and have kids (or have kids and get married) just because my peers are all doing it? I have no intentions of adding to the population. Why should I have kids just to have someone take care of me when I start shitting my pants? This is not a reason to have kids. Maybe in my mother's generation, but not in my generation. Nowadays, you have kids so you have something new to post on Instagram.

Speaking of things that remain and things that change, I think, like everyone, I'm still in the process of getting to know myself, who I really am, and it's a long process of separating the things that make up who I used to be from the things that make up who I am now and will be in the future. The things that used to define me, like my corrupted loyalty to my friends, my corny self-destructive, self-pitying phases and half-assed attempts to be relevant have all been pushed aside. What remains is my dysfunctional relationship with the handful of people I love, my desperate artwork and this dying blog.

To add to my list of future failures I recently took up scriptwriting. I still haven't gone past my synopsis because right now it has more loopholes than I have pimple scars, but it's slowly developing into a story I could be probably proud of in the future. Or not. I think it's the fact that I even managed to string words coherently is the point of pride here.

And then there are my obsessions, which end almost as soon as I develop them. Let's not get in there. it's ugly.

So these are what make me ME right now. I'm a 30-year old man-child who shuns responsibility and dreads social interactions outside Facebook, who would rather think about life than have an actual one.

When I was around 25, 26, with pride I told people I am not a good person, I will fuck you up, etc etc, but deep inside I like to think I'm actually a good guy. I have a good heart, I just don't like showing it to everyone. I will fuck you up but just for laughs.

Now, as I turn thirty there's no point in fooling myself and others. I have ACTUALLY wished ill on some people. I have cut people off from my life with little to no remorse. I'm hateful of so many things, now it's just a matter of deciding which one I hate more. I got invited to a wedding and sometimes I wish the bride and groom would just break up so I won't have to attend. I might actually be a bad person.

And that's okay. I don't have to be good for other people.

I've come to accept that life is unfair, that most people are actually self-serving individuals that will screw you over for profit, and that the few actually decent people are busy or dead. My friends have disappeared into that hole called "new family", or have been sucked into their flourishing careers in "Programming" or "Baking" or "Competitive Fisting" if that's a even a thing, while the highest point of my day is when I lie on my bed and twist my body so that the bones in my spine crack because it feels great.

And that's okay. I don't have to be successful for other people.

Now there's just a few people in the world I love and I think that's better. I feel like I'm able to love them so much because there's just a few of them, my love is concentrated and not spread out so thin by having to love many people.

And that's okay. I don't have to love and be loved by other people.

So at this point, what did I learn? I learned that I never learn. I just keep repeating the same series of mistakes. Maybe this whole point of view is a mistake.

And that's okay.

I'm embracing my flaws, something I should have done when I was 20, when I was 16, when I was 7, when my insecurities gave me a severe case of inferiority complex, which turned into a paralyzing fear of being judged by people, which then turned into a nagging need to try to please others. I'm done with worrying what I can't be, what my peers assume I'll be, what my folks hope for me to be. As my atoms rearrange, I just want to be.


4 comments. Post your comment here.:

Wobi said...

Ang ganda ng last paragraph keynis ka hahaha

Ayeesha Dicali said...

This captured my unsuccessful self in every sentence. Ang sakit lang, but still comforting, in knowing I'm not the only one.

Ayeesha Dicali | أييشة ديكالي | Muslim-Filipino Blog

jep buendia said...

Nakaka-relate ako sa male pattern baldness na yan lol; kaso nakikita ko talaga sa tatay ko eh, tapus sa mga tito ko pa (pero sana talaga stress lang ang factor kung bakit may event ng hair fall sa aking buhay hahaha, wag naman sa genes!)

MBTC! :) I realized something matapus kong mabasa yung mga huling paragraph... thanks! :)

Kareef Arzadon said...

Gawd. . . it's both infuriating and depressing to find out many things about yourself by reading someone describe himself.

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