No pictures or images to add– this is just me sharing something on a whim. I thought of adding something to spice up the update but then decided to focus on what I truly wanted to share as of this moment.
After ending a short cliff-hanger on that novel version of the story and wrapping up the morning with half a page done for the comic script that I was working on. I thought about writing to you, who is reading this now.
I don’t think I’ll be posting a longer length version of this, since this is really just something I wanted to share. The thing is, among all the things I’ve been working on for the past two-year and a half– from novels, artworks, poetry reading and the likes. My mind sometimes drifts back to the early days. Back in High School, where everything was still unclear to me, yet seemingly possible.
In my mind, I thought about the countless “what if’s”, and I know I’m not the only one who thinks this way. There are many of us who think about the possibilities of what could have been with the phrase “if only”.
The Road to Indie Comics.
It isn’t really a passing fancy or interest. I’ve always wanted to make my very own manga or comics but, I never really took the time to focus on the art because….
- I thought I wasn’t skilled enough to draw.
- I didn’t think I had anything I wanted to share to the world.
- Someone told me I wasn’t good enough to make it.
- A tactless remark from someone who actually makes comics passionately told me that my work was “Okay” but… (left me hanging without saying anything further.)
- My Teachers wanted me to stop drawing.
- Parents wanted me to stop drawing.
Well, to be brutally honest– My reason to draw was not because of “passion” like the others. It was purely for “survival”. I needed to cope with life and it was my only go to escape– I realized that now. I wanted to create a world where I could randomly erase or recreate with my own bare hands.
People may think that I have this sort of God Complex — and I may never deny it, because it can be as good as true.
But it isn’t because I wanted to control the world.
Part of me, hated living– and that is why I thought about drawing. I wanted to sketch none stop and it didn’t matter what I drew.
It was a time where I couldn’t sort out the way I feel. I hated the feeling of being alone, lonely and helpless. There were nightmares at night after the trauma that just wouldn’t let me sleep.
I carried on drawing because I was never good with words.
I spoke English.
I spoke Tagalog.
I speak about what I know–
but it was NEVER ever enough to convey how I felt.
It wasn’t because I didn’t read or watch anything on the tele or movies.
It was just simply because there was no one out there at that time whom I could TRUST long enough to listen to me vent.
I often asked myself.
WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ME ON THE RECEIVING END?
Why did it have to be my YOUTH?
but, since no one understood. I thought of fighting what I didn’t know and now here I am.
Writing to you.
Sharing you the way I was able to pave my way out. I began to study writing and drawing– and even if it seems like I should have focus on just one specific skill, I suppose the more tired I am with the gravity of work that I do, makes me breath and forget or ease the pain of wanting to kill myself from all that pain that I still cannot express.
I may talk about how I was raped but, it still does not– and will ever feel like it has happened. I mean, even I still have a difficult time accepting that it has happened–
but, hopefully in the long run. I will find a way to accept everything and say it proudly.
I SURVIVED and I’m alive right now– making my own path towards a LEGACY of a SURVIVOR.