I write stories about my daily life...how it is like to live among the Dutch and how I look at their culture and society. It is not the ultimate truth, but a glimpse of what a Filipina migrant perceives as "the truth" ..... Nothing serious. Just an observation. A figment of my wild imagination. My own concoction. My hutspot.
Monday, September 10, 2012
still blogging.
I wonder... Should I write it here? Post it here? Should I blog about my story? Not to make myself look like a victim, but just to tell my story....
When one stands face to face with the wall...
suffers in silence....
When one's pain is unbearable...
one's hope is dwindling away...
There is blogging.
So... I wonder. I understand that speculating is not really a very productive way to stay in the race. I understand that life's not fair. I understand that I'm not a victim. And I understand what Ghandi said about "nobody can hurt me without my permission." I understand all these things.
And yet.
There are days when I want to run, run, run.
There are days when I wish things had been different.
There are days when I want my grief to go away.
There are days when I want people to listen.
There are those days when I question.
Why are they blaming me for his death?
Why are they taking everything away from me?
Why are they being so cruel to me?
Why can't I even bury my dead?
Why?
And so... my pain
my grief
my agony
my tears
They will always seek justice.
From whom?
From what?
From where?
I don't know.
But there's blogging.... and it's good enough for now.
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