I had lived

Have you ever wished that you could go back in time and change all the things that you did wrong in your past?

I know I ask this question a lot here in my blog. Maybe because a part of my life I want to change so badly. I have so many regrets in my life, wishing all the time that things be different.

But then again, when I stop to think about it, what do I really want to change in my past? On what part do I really want to edit my life? Would it be the part where I first met a person? Or that part that I let that person enter my life? Or that part where I started to get close to that person? Should I have controlled the emotions I felt, and not just jump into that great big hole with both my eyes closed? Should I delete the happy parts then, when the laughter was genuine, when the emotions were overwhelming, when the love was so strong, when the passion kept burning? Or should I have done something different when the fire was doused with cold, cold water? Should I remove the part when things started to go downhill, when the smiles turned to cries, when the love turned to anger, when the wound started to grow? Should I somehow delete the parts when the pain became too much, when I cried myself to sleep, when I listened to stupid sentimental love songs and had my heart ripped again and again?

On what part should I change the past?

Why would I want to remove the part when I first met the person and gotten close to that person? Then I wouldn't have met such a wonderful person, I wouldn't have learned a lot from him, about life and about friendship. Why would I want to change how I jumped into that great big hole with my eyes closed? If I did, I wouldn't know what love felt like, I wouldn't know how to take risks. Why would I delete the happy moments? If I did, I wouldn't have known what it felt like to be so happy, to have emotions swirling so fast in my heart. Maybe I should remove the time when things started going downhill then, but then again, if I did I wouldn't have known that in love, you don't just sit still, you should do everything to keep it alive, to keep it burning. Why would I want to remove those sleepless nights, those big buckets full of tears, the pain and anguish? If I did, I wouldn't appreciate small things that could make me happy. I wouldn't appreciate those small things that could somehow, even for just a moment, make me forget the pain.

Why would I change anything in my past? If I did, I wouldn't have learned about love and pain. If I did, I wouldn't have grown wiser. If I did, I would still be that naive little girl that everyone thought they can trample upon.

No, I don't ever want to change my past. It has made me who I am today. Sure, I'm a little worn out, with ragged edges here and then, with scars all over me. But with all these and more, I know I have grown to be a better person. And I know that I can proudly say to the world, I HAD LIVED.

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I've been absent from the blogging community for quite a while. Blame it on my computer, my internet connection, and most of all blame it on this lazy gal. But I'm back. :)

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I've been discriminated at work. And I broke down in front of my baby when I told him all about it.

I know a lot of Filipinos wish they were in my place. I mean, I know they wish that they could somehow go here in US and try to have a better life.

Sure, I'll admit, living in the US has its perks. You can buy anything you want - car, house, all those techie stuff - in just a few years of living here. You can buy stuff that you only dream about in the Philippines. You can have every material thing you want so easily.

But then again, do they know how hard it is to be so different? Do they know what it feels like to be walking amidst blondes and brunettes, blue-eyed and green-eyed people, blacks and whites?

Do they know how angry it could make you feel when they assume you don't know how to speak English, when they look down on you? Do they know how exasperating it is when they ask you how come you speak good english, as if they're the only ones who can speak the language fluently?

Do they know how angry it makes you feel that in school, they won't recognize the bachelor's degree you already have, that it doesn't matter you went to a good university, that their school is just a community college, because they feel that your education just wasn't good enough just because you came from a third world country?

I never really minded all of these before. I took everything in stride, telling myself they don't know any better, that I am just dealing with ignorant people.

But when things become too much, when you are confronted with racism directly, then it becomes a different story.

And all I can do is break down and cry. After all, I am a foreigner in a foreign land.