Rapists and Dictators

i've always wondered why it is so hard for victims of rape and abuse to file a report to the authorities, especially when it involves incest. it has always been an issue of debate on why these cases are often left unreported until far too long. some say it may bring shame onto the families, some feel it may be because of a victim's fear for the perpetrator. but some may think it's too petty to be made a big deal of.
while all of us outside of that ordeal, may shudder at such an outrageous incident, cry foul over the perpetrator, express utmost horror, and want justice be done, the simple fact remains that in the minds of the victim, the perpetrator is still family. and blood runs deeper than anything else. it's too complicated a matter to deal with mere laws and constitutions. when emotions are involved, it goes beyond that.

~v~^~v~^~v~^~v~


to think of living almost 18 years of my life in foul words, bitterness and spite.
to think i grew up in this environment and would it make me foul, bitter, and spiteful?
for every word of disgust thrown at me, for every lash of a leather belt that hit me, for every clothes hanger that broke in two when it hit my body, for every moment that made me unwelcome. i've pulled through, i've grown through it, i'm here and standing where i am.
but for every smile you see, for every laugh you hear, the amount of pain i've endured doubles that. i didn't suffer through it. at no point of it had i ever really suffered, i endured it.
suffering was what i never experienced. though persevered through a lot, i certainly have.

patience is something i have taken for granted. i've been patient for most of my 18 years of life. i'm not one to resort to drastic measures and actions. i'm not one to aimlessly fight back. i'm not one to kick and scream to make myself heard. but does it make me weak? i've never felt stronger. i've never felt more power raging inside me. but i douse it with sheer patience. the time will come, i shall walk out of this with my head well on my shoulders, while leaving every speck of dirt behind.

much as i am firm and defensive of other things, arguing to justify my own believes and principles, i am timid, docile, and afraid to stand up to one person. not because i can't, but because i do not dare. i've never dared. because with every action i take, a bigger wrath awaits. a wrath that i dread to provoke. but then again, it is a wrath that needs no provocation.

of late, this source of anger has been irrational. she lashes out at every seeming opportunity. one where i can't figure what i might have done to invoke such madness. but i've done nothing wrong. and even if i had, it might as well have been an affair very much over and done with.
yet, this foul mouth chooses to recount every past mistake and error with the flavour of spiteness more cutting that a razor. for a person who claims to be so pious and pure of heart, she seems to me to be the foulest of all. God, for one, i am sure would not have been in the least pleased with this impromptu show of verbal insults. if there is a word more provocative than "insult" i would use it with a flair.

all these, uttered from the lips of the woman who supposedly helped bring me to life. it is not her who gave me life, for ultimately it is God to whom i owe my breaths. but for God to have chosen her to be my carrier, there must be something he wanted in return. for me to have lived almost 18 years in her hands, i feel as if it has done much injustice to the life i have been given.
i can only be thankful, that i am every inch so much different from her than i can ever be.
i can't bare the thought of being the next living example of her outrage. foul and spiteful as it is.

in my world, there is only myself, my father, my friends, and my brother.
in my life, there are many others whom i do not have the liberty of choosing which. she is one of them, with only a tinge of regret.

i hold tight to the words of my father, "do not be like her when you grow up."
i know what he means. i live everyday while i hold dear to my father's words. i am as every bit proud of being as much like my father as i can.
a man of rationale, a man of patience and wisdom. a man of kindness. a man who is only proud when it is deserving.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

no one really understands why i want to finish school, graduate and get a job as soon as i can. all of them told me to take my time, have fun while i'm still at it. pfft! roight~

there has never been any other moment when i see what i want, clearer than i see it now.
i have my own goals to score. to kick that ball right in between those goal posts.
i see myself standing where i want myself to be in the future. i know why i want this so much. for myself. it's so i can get away from pain, for most parts of my life.
so i could live the way i want, i don't have to be under the rule of a dictatorship maternal style.

my life does not imprison me. this is not jail. it's a f*cking Taliban state.
and the assasination of a dictator is for a greater good.