Realization at 3:33AM

It’s devastating to know that people don’t understand why you do what you’re doing. It’s heart-wrenching even when you hear them ask why or what or how and you can’t friggin’ answer them because you think they’re supposed to understand, because they know you enough, because they care about you, because that’s what you think it should be. But you suddenly blink back to your senses and tell yourself that you can never force people to spell or give meaning to the trash words running inside your head, or to unlock the secret code behind every unusual thing that you do.

Maybe you were never really born a carabao shit as what your evil playmate used to tell you. Maybe you came from the same planet where Ninoy Aquino lived and made a history. Maybe you’re human, contrary to the old popular belief that you’re actually a monkey.

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