Is Blood Really Thicker Than Water?

It’s hard to live in a world

where every cry for help

is expected to be reimbursed.

Especially by your own blood.


Dear Sister

Anyone who knows me knows that I am super close with my sister. My sister and I, we do pretty much everything together. Well, almost. We’ve lived under the same roof for almost 21 years until she left for school early last year. She was on a two year sabbatical prior going back to school to do her undergrad. We shared the same dream of becoming surgeons. She wanted to become a Pediatric Surgeon and I wanted to become a Cardiothoracic Surgeon. And we still share that same dream. I’m not much of an affectionate person and most people would vouch for that. My sister, on the contrary, is a very loving person and she makes sure everyone knows of that. I have been told that she looks up to me. She’s aspired to achieve similar things as I have. And she did. She’s achieved much greater things than I would ever imagine achieving myself. Upon completing her Pre-Med, our family was already in a deep financial quandary. However, she was still adamant to go to Med. School and decided to take a year sabbatical and work part time to save some dough for the registration fees. She began her stint at a kindy in our neighborhood. Soon, her year off turned two and yet the amount of dough saved was still insufficient because she’d always put the family first. In other words, everything kinda went downhill from there. That was until she was graced by the presence of two kind souls who were kind enough to end Tess’ two year stint. And so the first semester of her undergrad commenced. Long story short, my sister was very grateful to be given the opportunity of doing her undergrad although not in the field of her dreams. Driven and dedicated are some of her strong suits. She excels in everything that she does for she does everything with her heart. She’s then been going McCandless (minus the whole living in an abandoned bus and surviving on non-edible plants thing) and getting by on her own. I would from time to time, offer my hand whenever I have the means. And never once has she fret on having to do everything on her own. I only want the best for my sister for she’s the only person in this world who truly has my best interests at heart. Tess, if you’re reading this, I’m glad we’re sisters and I’ll always be proud of you and have your back. Insha Allah.

Living in Oblivion

And that my friend, is the burden of the knowledge ― words that are constantly uttered by Tess to me throughout our lives, among many others being the chatterbox she’s always been. It all began when my mother regarded me as her “best friend” and started confiding in me about the affairs that were taking place within the family, our family. I was only 12 then. I felt sorta special being the only child in the family to be in the know about the happenings of the family, well at least until one particular debacle that involved both my mother and father took place around the same year I was denoted the “best friend”. That’s a story for another time. Anyway, the whole thing definitely changed me and I was haunted by it for a period of time. I was completely livid at how oblivious my siblings were about everything that occurred in our family and the fact that they were not burdened by the knowledge of anything. Throughout the years I realized that I was perpetually sought after to become everyone’s shoulder to cry on. As flattering and thoughtful it may have sounded, it was not. The burden of the knowledge did not only apply to the matters of the heart or the family, it involved the academics as well. I was not always a bright student growing up. I’d completely despised studying at some point of my life. That was until I learned that education would empower a person’s future and decided to open a book and get educated. I became good at the whole studying thing and had brought home pretty impressive results. Having known to be the kind of learner who would take the extra mile to do the extra reading, I became everyone’s point of reference. And that my friend, is the burden of the knowledge. The years passed by and I had carried on with my life pleasing people with my “talents” of listening and bearing secrets. As much of a “good listener” I am, so good that I would absorb everything like a sponge and occasionally would offer my take on the matter, I am not much of an open book myself. The thought of confiding into other people about the shitty happenings of my life aggravates me. I’d much prefer to pour my soul out in the form of writing. It was not long ago when I’d decided to finally open up about the things that had bothered me to my friends. It brought relief upon me, however the feeling was short-lived. Having evolved around the same time as the technology, I was in some ways pressured to conform to the society. While it is not a crime to keep up with the world, it can in some ways take a toll on you. From this time forth, I have decided to stop carrying the burden of the knowledge. I no longer have the desire to know and to be known.

The Girl With the Book

I was reading in my favorite coffee shop on a particular Friday night, one of my favorite pastimes. Enjoying my solitude as how I’d enjoy it when suddenly the place started to fill with couples. I found myself miserably disturbed by those lovers who were enjoying each other’s company and had thought how lovely it would’ve been if I had the privilege of enjoying another person’s company instead of only my own. But then I remembered, it took three movies for Bridget Jones to finally end up with Mark Darcy. Therefore, I’d like to believe that the chances of me becoming a sad singleton for life are highly unlikely. I sure hope to meet a man that will like me just as I am.