THE BURDEN OF PROOF

That's the phrase that describes a defendant's task of proving innocence.

And today, it hit home again that I'm just indeed someone cut-off from all the good stuff. I appreciate the many things that I have, but the need to sustain their existence comes with many sacrifices that eventually takes some of them away. I can't even remember my last free weekend for goodness sake. I don't even remember when I actually laughed for real.

It's that hard. People change, things change, and change is the only constant. But I held steadfast to my will believing it can stay the way it is. Or at least myself. Then I found myself asking, have I changed? Yes, I have, in order to improve the unchanged that I believed to be causing me hurt. But nothing else changed.

Did change stop because I changed? Or did change changed, before I could catch up? Or could it be plain I didn't change, at all?

I fought hard for the fine little things in life, of which, honestly, I've achieve 3 frivolous things. Beyond that, there was really nothing else that shows I'm even anywhere near the fine things. I don't think this is whining anymore. I think this has become a de-sensitised assessment of my current predicament.

I wish I hard just left the country when I had the chance. Seriously. Being here stuck in a limbo for the last 10 years were truly the worst experience of my life. I can't imagine the difference in living, away from all these obligations that have finally now being taken for granted.

My decision to re-construct the company was a total mistake. I now do 3 portions more of what I used to do, and my paycheck continued to shrink because it's a brand new system in place. Utter failure.

Then, the decision to continue serenading the select few individuals in my life that I hold so dear, turned out to be the thrashing point. They cling on harder, to the point I'm about every part of everything. There is no freedom at all. I'm so stifled. Utter failure.

Just before that, I thought believing in people was my only salvation to be recognised. I believed so hard that trust and beliefs would give me a life. But it hit so fast and hard that I finally saw the true nature of being human, that there was never anyone to completely trust except for those who do, in me. I was so wasted, taken for a ride, used and repeated, and it came crushing down to teach me that one fine lesson of utter failure.

I really should have insisted on following my dreams of becoming learned in music, even if my folks had to sell the house back then. Look where I am now? Utter failure.

But no, I insisted that they needed not do that. Cos my sis was in University already, and my brother was aiming for his degree at the same time. I told my folks that I will be okay, that I had no flair whatsoever with books, numbers, theories, and the alphabets. I gladly offered my youth to take over the sinking business, and was harshly told not to butt in. The business fell apart eventually, and left whoever was left in a real fix. Not that I could have done better, but starting from young would have been their winning formula of subsistence. And swiftly, my folks told me to stay out of all Arts, and just try getting into University. My besties went through while I cried secretly at night. I visited them often at the campus, pretending sometimes that I was a freshman just to pretend I was getting a degree too. In the end. I'm still here. Utter failure.

Let me just perhaps lament for the last time that my mis-education was a misfortune, the greatest loss, and my worst experience. Yes, had I insisted to go study music when everyone at home said it wouldn't make money, but for fuck's sake, I could sell a piece for 25 thousand that my ex-partners eventually ripped off of me, I could be selling more at better rates now, be somebody, be somebody. Be somebody. Not like now. Struggling to feed. Yes, I should have insisted, instead of making myself feel better by thinking I was not cut out for it.

I asked the heavens when I got home: why? The burden of proof for me to find my destiny seems impossible.

I want many things to. But hell, I'm so sad now that I just don't want to be disturbed. I don't want to be pretending that I'm alright. Because I'm really not. And people don't understand, thinking I'm just some grouchy fool. I can't even regret when there was nothing for me to regret. I should have insisted on leaving, and left. And I did not, not because I stayed, but I was forced to stay. Why must it be so hard.

So today, I got home at 7am on a Sunday morning, doing work that others could not handle, not able to get out of it cos somebody's got to do it, and so I did it, the only next qualified person to do it. No money to hire someone who could. So I did it. And yet people lost their tempers when I did it. Why? Cos they feel I did what they should do when they cannot do it. They didn't do it eventually, cos I did it. I did it yet I got blamed for it.

I'm so burned out. So tired to the point I don't even know if I'm awake or just sleeping. I took a power nap just yesterday in-between the work cos I was so tired, and I dreamt so much that I jumped out of my nap suddenly cos everything in my head felt so real. And last night, I thought I was fiddling with the computer, only to find myself already fast asleep on it.

Geez. I just yawned. I think I must be sleepy. I don't know. After all, utter failure as the burden of proof falls apart.