Last night, I watched The Perks Of Being A Wallflower. I haven’t really read it yet. I’ve read like a couple of pages but I haven’t finished the book because (1) I don’t own a copy of the book, and (2) I can’t seem to find time to read it.
I enjoyed the movie. It was kind of weird for me to watch and listen to Emma Watson without her British accent. Anyway, so I was already at the part where Logan Lerman (Charlie) was going sort of psycho because memories were flooding inside his head. I cried during that scene. I don’t even know why. Must have been because I’m an introvert myself but Charlie is a lot worse than I am. So I was feeling really empathetic.
I cried when Charlie called his sister, saying that he killed his aunt and then he had a black out, and then he told the doctor about everything that he has finally remembered. These scenes have absolutely no emotional connection to me at all. But still, I cried. I mean, I really cried. I finished the movie feeling both happy and sad. (Wow! That’s a great way to justify the URL of this thing, doesn’t it?) I was happy because the movie ended pretty well. I felt happy for Charlie for finally coming out of his box. Although, he is only a fictional character. Sad because my brain and emotions just whacked me with trails of realization.
I prepared my bed to sleep. But while preparing, my mood suddenly went down. I became sad. Very sad. I thought about a part in The Perks where Charlie said he was seeing things, seeing people. I don’t do that or have that. I don’t “see” things. My trails of realization are far off unrelated to the movie. The movie sort of opened my hidden emotional instability.
This was the crazy thing that happened. When I lied down, I had flashbacks. It was really crazy because memories of my very inclusive childhood came back. Most of those memories were just off me watching my loved ones break. Then, it started there – the trails of realization that had me thinking that I might go psycho.
I’ve always been an observer. I’ve always loved people. That’s what I realized. I’ve always cared for people especially my family. I admit to have a great sense of value for family and friends but my mistake is I don’t know how to express it very well. I began to cry at my realization of how much I love my sisters, and then I remember one incident with my one of my sisters.
Veven. That’s her name. It’s a strange name because the syllables are a mix of two of our grandmothers’ names. Veven and I used to be close. Well, sort of close. I guess from when I was a baby until I was five or six, we used to play a lot together. We used to do role-playing. Of course, she was in control of the course of the stories of our role play because she’s older. She’s two years older. When I was in elementary or grade school, she was my only family companion. But one time back when I was in Grade Three, me and my classmates were in front of the Gabaldon Building. I don’t know how to define or describe the Gabaldon building but it was like somehow the stage of the school and at the same time it was where the office of the Principal could be found. So we were there. I saw her with her classmates. I approached her because I wanted to ask something. I called her name with due respect. Then just I don’t know why, she insulted me in front of her friends. She called me tomboy just because I’m not as girly as every other girls that she knows. It hurt knowing that my sister had the nerve to call me that and laugh together with her friends. That moment, I saw her as one of those mean girls in those movies. She was the leader of the mean girls clique, and her posses laughed with her. I walked away, suppressing the tears that was going to roll from my eyes.
Then came back a different memory. It was some time I guess on a summer. Our neighbors asked me and my sister, Veven to go to church with them. My sister told me that I can only go if I wore a dress. I don’t like wearing dresses because they feel uncomfortable. I objected. So once again, she insulted me in front of our neighbors. I don’t quite remember what was the insult. But I couldn’t take it that time anymore that I went straight ahead back to our house. I went to the room we used to share with our parents. I slammed myself to the bed and cried. My closest sister, Mammy, and my mother noticed me. They came to me and asked what is the problem. I told them about the two different yet similar events. They called for my sister and reprimanded her for what she did. I remember completely what they told her.
You’re the big sister. You should be the one who will defend her from everything that can and will hurt her. You shouldn’t be the one to bully her.
Of course, this is translated. I still cry when I remember these memories. I know now why. She bullied me but all I ever did was love her. It’s a fact. In the depths of my heart, I’ve always wanted to defend her from her own set of bullies. I remember that one time when she was being teased and I told the people teasing her to stop it but she only told me to go away and shut up. It hurts because all I ever wanted to do was to take care of her but it seemed like she doesn’t want me to.
Then came another memory of a different sister – Mammy. First, I call her Mammy because when we had our role-playing games, she would join us and pretend to be our “mom”. When she was still in high school, there was some kind of drama that stirred in the dancing organization that she was part of. That organization used to dance in fiestas or festivals like Pintados. I was only five or six years old then. I saw her crying up on the stairs while she was being scolded by our mother and, our older sisters standing around her. I wanted to hug her that day. I wanted to tell her that I believed her. But I couldn’t do anything. I was like a baby who seemed to have no clue of what was happening, yet I knew, somehow, what was happening. I didn’t what to do. I wasn’t exactly close to her compared to these days. I don’t remember how exactly we became as close as we are now. It was probably one of those times when I was in my usual place, being alone with myself exploring my imagination and introversion. And she was there and she just approached me and we started talking and enjoy each other’s company especially when we lovingly tease our other sisters.
Now this was then when I believe I’ve put the pieces together. I’ve always loved them. I’ve always tried to show them what I feel but I can’t bring myself to express it. I think that the reason I’m close with certain people is that I am assured that I am loved back. I cried heavily when I thought about it. My head ached. It was as if my head was going to explode. I prayed. It was the most emotional prayer ever. Then I thought about understanding. I’ve always wanted to be understood because I’ve always wanted to understand people.
Ideas, thoughts, memories were just flowing all at once that I thought I was going insane. I think I just went psycho last night. Perhaps, I need to stay away from movies that may trigger my emotional instability. I painfully forced myself to stop crying and then I just fell asleep.