I Promised Myself I Wouldn’t Cry Again

…but, as cliché as it may sound, I couldn’t help myself.

This week has just been such a stressful one. I may try to act like nothing’s wrong, but believe me when I say everything’s been fucked. Problems keep piling up, with no solutions in sight. I’ve never been an emotionally stable person. Bouts of depression happen most of the time, but I try to get by with the help of medication and a few “bitching” here and there. Maybe I’m just not ready to deal with yet another death just when I was trying to piece my life back together.

You know, Saturday was such an emotional day for my mother and I. We actually made quite an embarrassing scene in the foodcourt of a mall while waiting for Robby and Ate Susan to come back from an errand. We talked about the past, mainly, and how, in many ways, we both felt it affected the family. Her last comment just struck me blind because I knew she was right, and deep in my heart I’m grateful that that’s the case, yet I couldn’t help the feeling of resentment to grow in me. She admitted that she felt the same, but who could really blame her? She was the perfect mother anyone could ever ask for under the circumstances, and I could say the same for her unwavering patience…for not giving us up. While I, on the other hand, had allowed this hate to build up in my heart for almost 10 years until the only thing left was this facade of civility for his sake, my brother’s sake, and the sake of the people around us. I tried to be as impassive as I could be in front of the crowd, but sometimes I couldn’t put a leash to the emotions, and I just had break down to relieve myself of them.

There were times when I try to place the blame on someone else, but really, I could’ve handled the situation better if only I were a lot stronger. My mind was always full of what-if’s and could’ve-been’s, but the chance to wing it had come and gone, and I had to make do with present.

The emotions I try to hide in front of people, I show to my best friends — my pets. I love them; they serve as my support for every situation I get myself into. That’s why it was such a hard blow when Bullet died because she was the sweetest, most incredible support I’ve ever had. Suddenly things just didn’t matter anymore, and I was content on living life on auto-pilot.

And then there was this need to fill in a gap. I needed something else to care for other than my fucked up life, so bought a hamster. Gah had this way of relieving my stress by just being there and looking all cute. She was a silent companion at day, and an active one at night. I grew to love her despite the vow I made that I wouldn’t let another animal get close enough to induce pain to my thinly-veiled heart when it had to leave.

But I’ve never been a good keeper of promises that involve my feelings, that’s why I rarely even make them.

My mom woke me up today when she saw a weakening Gah, who was already in the state of dying. I looked at my friend — my daughter, actually, since we refer to our pets as our children — and had to try hard to keep my emotions in check. I excused myself to the bathroom, all the while slapping myself silly for allowing some tears to escape from my eyes. I thought, it wouldn’t do her good to leave the world with her surrogate mother all teary-eyed, right? Thought I’d save the tears for tonight, and try to make her as comfortable as any dying animal ought to be.

I bid a sad goodbye while stroking her fur, and my mom followed my lead. She wasn’t dead yet, but I told myself that talking with her before she did wouldn’t hurt one bit. She was, after all, the one with enough patience to listen to my rants without complaining (other than the occasional small bites and poos). What hurt the most was the fact that it was a repeat of the last time.

I was there watching as death took my buddy. There was, again, this feeling of being powerless to do anything. Y’know, like, “How can I put things back into perspective when I can’t even save my friend?” That kind of thing. The feeling of helplessness was consuming, and I could feel the brave front crumbling slowly. The only consolation was that Gah lived a happy hamster life, even if it was a relatively short one.

I love you, Gah. Be happy, wherever you are.