MY DEBATE PASSION

I’ve always debated about the problem of the world. I’ve came up with rebuttals and arguments, assumptions and presumptions, moreover, analysis and solution proposals. I don’t think it’s fair to not start within myself. So this afternoon, from a very moving situation in my life I’ve started to debate about my domicile and my existence. I do not have a very specific motion, though. Maybe it’s THIS HOUSE BELIEVES THAT IF FATIMA WERE GIVEN A DIFFERENT FATE, LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN WELL OFF, or maybe this one, THIS HOUSE BELIEVES THAT FATIMA MAKES HER OWN DESTINY, or what have you. On the government side, rather, I on the opposition side, or either way say that this motion is debatable if I were the debater. I do not know how far I’ve gone in messing around with my life or what progress has been plastered upon this hilarious life. One thing’s for sure, I am my only safe harbor, I am my only pillar to lean on to, and more so, I am the only one who understands me.

I’ve been told that we make our own destiny, fate is one different thing. Fate is a natural occurrence, a phenomenon, unexpected and very obscure in nature. Members of this most august house, I do not have a destiny. I am not free to make one. My only hope lies on good fate and the guts to accept the bad ones.

I live with a very strong long-term goal, something that is close to impossible, something so not likely to happen. I DO NOT WANT TO INHERIT MY MOTHER’S FATE. I DO NOT WANT HOW HER ENVIRONMENT MADE HER DESTINY FOR HER. I DO NOT WANT TO RELY ON ATROCITIES OF PEOPLE AROUND ME. Ladies and gentlemen, apparently, I’m close to having it. I mean, having what I do not want.

I on the opposition side would like to defend those people whom I’ve labeled as atrocious. It’s is very apparent that their being atrocious comes in to guide me to the beautiful path. Would they even try to handle problems that they shouldn’t problem if they weren’t concerned? Thus, they were atrocious out of love. Point, madam! What is the problem you are trying to point out in the first place? Oh, Members of this most august house, we wouldn’t wait for a problem to arise and so we are building advance solutions and preventive measures to avoid problems in the future.

Take it from my mom, a stow-away, a mother at a not-totally-but-early age. Sitting here now, I could imagine her scribbling irrational doodles out of anger. I imagine how she’d been when she was in my shoes now. It’s good that I’ve learned to pour my sentiments through writings. You wouldn’t believe what my mom went through. I remember how life’s miseries made her do something that was ever life-changing. Although it was unreasonable, I salute her for the courage she has presented. When she was 17, an age older than mine now, she ran away from home. Not just ran away in a sense that she’d be found the next day, the next, and the next, next day. It was totally amazing! She made sure she’d be far from home. From Philippines, she was able to do some illegal whatever (out of desperation) to get away from what was bound to be her life. If you know what I mean by illegal, then that’s it. She had her age manipulated just so she’d be qualified to go out without a guardian. Then Destiny started in Kuwait

____FAST FORWARD____

THEN I BECAME EXISTENT. Very happy-go-lucky, bubbly and cuddly lass who’s mother-oriented. No, not family but mother. I lost my father at an early age. I don’t sympathize myself for that. I somewhat like the fact that I don’t have a father. Maybe I appreciate a fact like that now that I’ve seen with my naked eyes what a father is like. The monstrous, aggravating and rusty image of a father. Someone scary and cold, if that’s the term.

As I grew up, I kept ranting about myself that I will assure myself a life far from my mother’s. a very simple yet peaceful life. A not-colonized-by-other-people life. My life is indeed touching to the typical teenagers. Yes, I am not a teenage mom or what have you, that is a different story, overly borrowed from status-quo. I almost gained all the insults, degradation and hatred in the world, just like others and unlike others, I haven’t met the situation that would trigger my rebellious side. I don’t think I will let it happen at all.

I’ve been used to this miserable routine, what is there to do? Why would I give up now? Ladies and gentlemen, i am no longer affected by the rages of these people. They wouldn’t even let me explain, but they do raise questions. What is exactly the point, ladies and gentlemen? I wouldn’t say I’ve had enough, I give up, I hate my life, I want to die, that is all cliché!

Sometimes I wish for a different life. Me as my character and personality all the same, just different people and life encounters. I really know that something very magnificent is in store for me. Something to prove all those who have wronged me that they are the wrong ones!

I will not curse these people who’ve hurt me, although I always cuss. No one would believe me, what’s the point in telling them what I want to make known to them?

Mr. chair, I hope life will be a bit more bitter like how I was almost beaten to death today. I wish the text message threatening me that said I will be thrown from the very sharp, 20-step staircase In the house was literally executed to me a while ago. How I wish I lost my sanity so they would be the one to reach out and calmly jive with me. How I wish I was bed-ridden so these people would handle me with care. How I wish.

You have not just stepped on my dignity but you have crashed-out my identity, totally. I do not know what I want, what I am, who I am and worse I do not know what to do with my future. All I know is that I am lost in words and In thoughts. Absent-minded somewhat, come and notice!

Honor-rolls is not the basis for the measurement of one’s intellectual capacity and ability. I did not achieve academic awards. Nonetheless, people looked up to me, depended and even trusted me. I cannot apprehend the road I’m heading to, whether I’ll be a better person after this or sooner carry the hatred and make it harmonize my blood vessels and run through my veins with matching adrenaline rush and just stab someone to death. I don’t know…

TONIGHT, and until the day I’d continue to wake up, I will continue standing, firm, steady and sturdy. No ifs, no buts and mostly no whys. Only yes, only no, only what and only how. There is no point in stabbing at the back and raving inwards. The deed is done. What can sorry do if the damage is said and done? I still prefer physical pain than these never-ending lacerations I have in my heart. I am not one hell of a cognitively impaired shenanigan. I believe I am someone, although not yet a somebody, at least, not a nobody. No frenzied fancy thoughts or whatnot just pure reality. This is the bittersweet scent of life, sometimes sweet and benign and most of the times ill-suitably strong and intimidating.