Dear Jhack – 11 February 2017

Dear Jhack,

It’s February 11, 2017 and you’re currently waiting for your cousins to finish dinner so you guys can finally go out. You’ve been waiting since 6pm, it’s past 8 now, and you entertained yourself by reading Sara Bareilles’ book for the third time. Shut up and save your judgments. She has been saving your ass from falling apart since January. Her music, that is. And right now you are feeling fine. While 2017 has been a real bitch to you so far, and you almost got sucked into that black hole, you managed to get your shit together.

New Year’s was such a downer. You felt like shit, alone and abandoned and for the first time, you cried in front of your sister because of what Dad did. You never cried in front of her because you were trying so hard to pretend to be brave, but that night you just can’t take it any longer. You broke down. You tried so hard to suppress your tears, but they just kept flowing. As much as I want to relive what happened, I guess it’s better if we just not talk about it anymore (but if you’ve forgotten what happened and want to know, feel free to browse your blog. I’m pretty sure you can find the story here somewhere).

A couple of weeks ago you almost fell apart. You were listening to Sara B’s Come Round Soon for the first time one morning when the lyrics suddenly hit you like a lightning bolt. You cried like a fucking baby. You looked at your headphone’s cord and decided you want to put it around your neck because it’s too painful. You were about to stand up and wrap the cord on your window when you suddenly thought about Mom. You thought, “if my Mom was here and she finds out I’m about to kill myself, she will kill me! She will be even more disappointed.” So you stopped, and resumed crying and tried to forget what you just thought of doing. The thought will never leave your head, though. At least not yet. Up to this day, you keep thinking if that cord was enough to hold you ’til you take your last breath. So you poured all your emotions out on writing on your journal (good job so far for being consistent on that, btw) and listening to even more depressing songs that makes you feel shittier every single day. Don’t worry, it will help you get through what you’re going through.

One morning you were nursing a fever and had a dream. You were at what looks like a dormitory or a school and people were egging you to kill yourself. And you, idiot, thought they were right so you went to the building’s rooftop to jump. You were almost at the ledge, looking at your surroundings one last time. Just when you’re about to jump, someone grabbed your hand. It was Mom, pulling you back. She didn’t say anything, but she definitely looked sad. In another dream that same day, you were running away from the same people who wants you dead and, once again, Mommy saved you. She took you to a Mall. She looked sad. I wish I knew why she looked sad. And then the next day, your brother will text you that your cousin, Tita Lala’s son Andrew passed away. In his sleep. You immediately thought that his life was traded for yours and you feel awful. At the funeral, you considered telling everyone but decided against it because you’re not sure how they will react to your dream. So before you went home that day, you talked to little Andrew and thanked him for saving you. You almost cried, but held it together because you thought it’d be strange of you to cry because you were never even close. Still, you promised him you will try to fight and live for him.

I know the last few weeks have been really hard, harder than it’s ever been. Please hold on. Remember Sara’s song, Hercules. You are meant to be a warrior, so hang in there. You will get through this shit.

Stay Strong,


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