Not Another Painful Realization

WARNING: SINCERE POST AHEAD. No edits. No rewritten parts. Highly embarrassing situation for me in case post gets read by a family member. =))

I have realized that even with all the creatures in the planet and with all the crazy things I did with my friends, it's only my family who has the power to drive me nuts.

I never knew about that until yesterday.

It all started with my sister bullying me online. BULLYING me ONLINE! Gawd. And just now, I'm laughing like a demented hyena as I read all the things she'd written in her Facebook account. And yeah, my brothers too. Funny how they make me gag with laughter with their quips. What's even funnier is that the thought haven't knocked itself hard on my skull until tonight. Then there are my mousey little cousins, my lovable uncle (who, even in his late thirties, is still an avid fan of Tom and Jerry), my mataray but caring aunt, my dear mother who had the greatest mistake of her life when she told me that I should treat her like a kabarkada (hehe, labyu mami whale :p), and my father who, even in absentia, left one inexpugnable mark of himself here on earth: ME. (because a looooooooooot of old folks say that I'm my father's personification in female form [as manifested on the way I walk, the way I raise one foot on the chair when eating in the dinner table, the way I subtly abhor materialism, the way I don't care how I look, how messy my hair is, how tattered my shoes are, and the way I don't really care how people might see me].

But of course, the family review won't be complete without mentioning the feared Leader of the Gang. The undisputed, undefeated, undeniably un-underestimated Führer: my grandmother. Oh how I cower by the mere mention of the name! :)) She is the only person in the world who can strike fear in my heart. There was even a time when I feared her more than I fear deities. My grandmother can control my hypothalamus more than she (and I) ever thought she could be. Her approval weighs more than the opinion of the entire population of all third-world countries multiplied by the population of all second-world countries plus the population of all first-world countries. She who can make me laugh, make me cry, make me mad, make me worry, and make me guilty in a snap of a finger. She who made me every piece and morsel of what I am today. And I’m telling you – all of you – as long as I still pass to be my grandmother’s granddaughter, whatever you think, say, or do won’t push me into carving my wrist with a Panda blade. :p

And just now I realized that I can never completely measure how much I love them. I can never count all the “I love yous” (not just because much of them were unsaid and that our family is never really the demonstrative type) but I know that even if I’m quarter-halfway around the world from them, the secret messages of how much they care – as brought to me by the wind, the earth, the dust, the pixels in the monitor, and the million fibers of an electric wire – can never be counted.

PS.

Even further realization:

I realized that even if I usually hang out and talk about my friends, there was never really a time when a close friend haven’t heard at least one of my many tales about my family. Talk about influencing the subconscious. =))