The Girl Named Julia

Julia Buencamino.

Her name is all over the news today.

For what the news is all about, I tell you, it is quite disturbing.

July 7, 2015, in Quezon City, around 8:00 PM in the evening–she was found dead by their helper in her own room.

She committed suicide. She hanged herself.

Majority of the people says her self-murder is a result of depression.

At least her drawings say it so. At least her captions say it so.

A fifteen-year old girl.

What a poor young soul.

I cannot blame her though, for the world is a cruel world.

And unfair.

And lonely.

I know because I have experienced it.

I know because just before I decided to make this post I was pained.

I was disappointed.

Disappointed because no matter how much happiness and love you give to the other people, they can’t actually really give it back.

Disappointed because the people whom you expect to treasure you actually don’t.

Disappointed because the people whom you value so much do not value you as much as the same.

It feels very difficult, you know.

When the pressure, the sadness, the disappointment, all come together.

It feels very difficult to carry the burden not only in school but in the family as well.

It feels very difficult to say “it’s okay” to your friends whenever they apologize because they forgot that they actually invited you into their organized walk and proceeded without you.

It feels very difficult that every time you went ‘home’ from the tiring week of school, a dirty-sheeted bed heaped with all kinds of stuff greets you.

It feels very difficult that these little acts of negligence actually make one feel unloved and unvalued.

Make me feel unloved and unvalued.

Call me “sensitive” or “onion-skinned”.

Call me whatever you want.

We are entitled with our opinions.

But we are not entitled with our feelings.

They’re incredibly uncontrollable.

I hate mine…but they’re inevitable.


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