It’s a Cruel World

I’m 18, turning 19 in a few months. All this years I’ve relied on my own, never really receiving any help from anybody, it’s always been just me. Every since I was little, I realized that no one really cares about what happened to you, or if you were happy or not. Mostly they care about what good you are to them, or if it’s worth talking to you to get something.

Sure my mom was there. But with all the trouble of keeping us all together, feeding us and making sure we get proper education, things are pretty much piling up on her end of the plate. So I learned not to trouble her with my troubles anymore. She has better things to do, more important things, than to listen to my whine about what happened in school, or any bad dreams. Besides, my sister is doing enough whining on her own, I didn’t want to add to my mom’s troubles.

When we were small, every time my mom would have a bad dream about us, she’s get us to wear rosaries and pray. I didn’t trouble her with my bad dreams, but after we moved, they got worse. It was hard for mom to find work as it is, and care for us at the same time, so I didn’t bother her with trivial things about my life. She doesn’t know – I think – about bad dreams I have, the petty quarrels at school. I guess it’s partly my fault she doesn’t know. I’ve never told her.

So yeah, 18 years of dealing with stuff on my own, lying sleepless in bed after nightmares and bad dreams, just a few months before my 19th birthday, I crack. Bad dreams were back, and I always wake up in the wee hours of the morning, heart beating fast and scared. I don’t tell mom. She’s always working hard, and she’s worried about my sister not settling well in college. So I figured I should go tell someone close to me. I figured that since people all around me gets treated well and being comforted when bad things happen to them, I mean, that’s how they’d treat me too right? With comforting words and promises of safety. I thought like the others I’d get to feel safe and my bad dreams would just disappear.

But no. Expectations and reality are really different. There were no comforting words. No assurances of safety. All I got was rebuke. Words like “it was just a dream, nothing will happen,” “be brave”, “grow up, face your fears, you’re old enough.” So do the comforting words only apply to little kids? The comfort?

It came as a shock. I thought people would actually care. I thought that they just act indifferent because I don’t tell them things about myself, that they just didn’t know. But knowing or not knowing, I realized it didn’t really matter if they don’t really care. If they’re too busy with other stuff to care.I thought they would care even the slightest. Well I thought wrong. Even trying to defend myself with it went nowhere.

So yeah. big disappointment here. Brought tears of disappointment cascading down my face. Being cared about, really cared about, is something i have yet to experience. I’m learning that people fend for themselves. And to have someone who really cares about what happens to you – that’s one in a million chance.

Grow up, face your fears. You’re old enough. Be brave. It’s a cruel world out there.


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