Almost two years ago, I left my country with so much regret and unhappiness. At that time, I was so mad at my mom for ever forcing me to leave the Philippines and instead live here in the US. I never wanted this life in the first place anyway. I never wanted to come here. Never thought of it. Never imagined what it's like living here. Many people wanted it but not me. I was so angry with my mom for forcing her decision on me, angry with myself for not fighting for what I want, angry with the rest of the world because they seem so happy and I'm not. I kept thinking she's my mother yes, but she doesn't own me. She doesn't fuck1ng own me. I was pretty tired of that "mother knows best" bullsh1t. God, I hated all of it back then.

How about today you ask? Well I'm not sure. I'm not so sure about a lot of things these days. Everyday I feel I'm becoming more afraid but at the same time, a little bit, I dunno, at peace I guess. I'm really not sure why I'm having these feelings. I don't even know what the heck I'm talking about. Basta I'm afraid these days, that's for sure. I'm afraid that, when I come back, I might not know my friends anymore. That they won't see the old me but instead a totally different me (which sometimes I feel is a good thing because back then, I kind of felt that I'm nothing when I'm with them; maybe after years of not seeing each other, they'll come to respect me a bit). That they won't listen to what I wanted them to hear. That I won't know how to talk to them anymore. That they'll just be the "classmate ko sya nung college" or "barkada kami dati" type of people. It's hard losing the people you've trusted all these years. It's harder still to start building these foundations all over again.

Another thing that's been bothering me is the dreams I'm having of late. Well not really dreams but more like nightmare-ish flashes I get during the day. I kept having these snatches of things gone wrong with my family -- their supposed deaths, either a plane crash, a terrorist attack, or murder. For days, I wouldn't acknowledge it. All I can do is cry and cry and cry. I have no one to talk to. No one to hold me and tell me everything is okay back home. I'm afraid -- simple as that -- for my family, for the chance to see them again. I feel guilty for the simple fact that I'm here and they are hundreds of miles away from me.

Am I scaring you yet? I'm nearly done, don't worry. Anyway, how bout being at peace you ask? Well, it's just that the realization of what I'm currently doing finally hit me. I realized that I kind of like it here. I can imagine myself living my old days here in the US. Buying books in Barnes & Noble, driving along I-94, going into real estate business, having snow instead of rain, eating Krispy Kreme instead of Mister Donut. I don't mind experiening them at all. For weeks, I denied the feeling. It's like betraying the very being of who I am or abandoning the principles I have held onto for years. Does that make sense to you? I hope so. If you ask me to make it plainer, I swear you'd make my head hurt. Merely thinking about these things makes me feel like I'm on a plane taking off.

The burden (of the Ring) is finally getting to me, methinks. Fear, guilt, responsibility -- I'm turning into Gollum right before my eyes.

***PARANOIA MODE OFF***

I think I need either a strong shot of brandy or one really good and long conversation from someone who wouldn't think I'm joking... or serious.