selfie, me, I, myself

In Retrospect

Humid weather fills the air for almost a month, starting from almost the end of May to midway June 2021. I wasn't a fan of such weather, so I opt to turn on my air conditioner. As I insist on indulging in such luxuries, our electric bill suffered tremendously, causing my mother to sigh in defeat as she saw the already ballooning pile of bills and credit card payables. My stepdad can do nothing but hand over his last salary, knowing that whatever amount of money he gave to my mother will disappear in seconds. Electric bills alone would eat that 10 thousand pesos away as if it never existed. 

Hello, diary. How I missed you. 

It's been a while since I last wrote to you. I was busy. Ever since January started, we had intermittent internet signals. Our wired internet is not working as it is supposed to be, thus forcing us to buy prepaid internet load for internet needs. these prepaid loads are quite expensive, and at that time, my brother was in his online class, thus his internet connection is always the priority. Well, it is not that I wasn't able to use the internet, as I'm able to use Free Facebook whenever I want, and a borrowed Netflix account from my aunt. 

Let me give you an overview of my life thus far. 

After I felt a little okay with my body, I decided to look for work, yet work is hard to come by. It is pandemic and some companies closed their doors due to lack of sales. I also told myself that I won't take jobs that will make me suffer physically or mentally, as my energy dipped a lot more lately. I easily get tired, I feel sleepy most of the time, and I have these body pains that never seem to go away. I already knew that back-breaking jobs are not for me. 

Of course, a part of me missed my old job. Despite the tough working schedules I once had when I was a teacher, I missed talking to students. I missed giving lectures, I missed those moments when I laugh and cry with my kids. I missed those moments when I was able to cheer a distressed mother because her daughter was behind at school. I missed those times when students write a letter to me, thanking me for teaching them valuable lessons that they will always remember. I hope my students would still remember me, despite the short time we spent together as teacher and student. Sadly, I had to leave teaching due to the demands of the job. I can't work for 7 days a week and only paid for 5. I don't like the salary, and I don't like that the teacher does everything, including the paperwork not related to teaching. 

After I left, I decided to spend time with myself. I took therapy for mental health, as my bipolar disorder is hurting me mentally. I had series of online consultations with my psych doctor, taking medicines for mental health. the sessions lasted for 2 months until I ran out of money. As much as I would like to keep on going with my sessions and spend more time with my doctor, we had to part ways. I can no longer afford the medications. Around 2021, I went back to square 1 with my bipolar 2 disorder.

I am in a constant battle with myself. Should I get a job, or should I just stop working? I was thinking of going into business, but what kind of business? I used to sell journals online, but right now, with the pandemic, I don't know if I could still do bulk buying and price haggling, and commuting to different places just to get good deals. As much as I love to eat and studied culinary arts, cooking is not exactly my hobby. Online food delivery is also out of my options. I don't like to cook. At all. With no options left, I went to freelance writing. 

My freelance gig is as dry as Sahara. My first ever client was a cheat, who offered me a gig way below the industry standards. I was devastated when I learned how much I was shortchanged compared to how much I worked for this person. I abruptly canceled our contract. then I went to Upwork, Fiverr, and looked somewhere else, navigating the recesses of the virtual job posting sites and Google for some glimmer of hope. Sadly, it's either I don't pass their qualifying exams, I don't have enough internet speeds, or they would just say I don't qualify for the job. Some even ghosted me — this company didn't even show up to the agreed schedule of the work interview and just left me hanging in zoom for three hours. 

From January, come February, from February, come March, then April, May, June. 

Anyway, let's backtrack for a bit. Between these months, there are a lot more things happened. I did some volunteer teaching, put up my own community pantry, signed to a lot of short online classes, workshops, seminars, and social media. I also read a lot more comics and none of the intellectually stimulating books. My depression killed my thirst for knowledge. I just wanted to escape my mediocrity. I want to forget myself. I want to live vicariously in awakened dreams of grandeur and magic, as I felt nothing of that in my life outside of the internet. I spent time on my phone reading webtoons and social media, scrolling and reading stories that don't really worth much. 

Webtoons lead the way for me to escape myself. At least, I told myself, I get to live the life of a badass villainess, wearing fancy victorian and rococo gowns with ribbons, laces, constricting corsets, and heavy crinoline — dresses I won't ever be able to wear in real life, for these gowns are heavy, impractical, and hard to wash. Also, I'm not a badass villainess with wit and beauty who can make beautiful men love her. I am just a plain, obese girl who can't seem to lose weight, who wasn't even trying to do so. 

On two separate posts after this, I would share my experiences with

1. Organizing, managing, and eventually cease of operation of the short-lived community pantry in my locale, and 

2. My experience getting Astra Zeneca vaccines for the first time. 

I have photos I want to upload together with the story behind them. I think it would be interesting to go in-depth into these two life experiences, as I have a lot. 

Anyway, let's backtrack some more. 

May 26, 2021 — My birthday.

I became 28 years old. Time surely flies by so fast. I am another year older, with no significant achievement in life. I can't make heads or tails with my age. Am I an adult, or a kid? The usual benchmarks of adulthood are absent in my life — a house, a car, a stable work, living independently. Things like that. Adults around my age are either drunk at some bar, having sex, getting married, or just working a stable job. I had none of that good stuff. 

I don't care much about sex, but I care a lot about living independently. With me being jobless since October 2020, it's demoralizing to still live with my parents, to not have any stable income, and no personal achievements whatsoever. I can't help but feel awful about myself. I still haven't achieved my dream of becoming a writer, and the novel I've been writing for the past 5 years was still stuck somewhere on chapter 3 or 4. I haven't gotten anywhere, and I'm getting impatient with myself. I failed my Digital Marketing exam last 2021, too. So goodbye to the Pearson Vue certificate. Well, at least I still have a certificate of participation to show. I was out of focus, both with my studies and my life. I don't know which direction to take. I feel frustrated at myself for not being able to focus and sit still. For not retaining any information I read, for eventually giving up on life, for few months. It was only this June that I decided to bounce back and go back to studying. I know, took me a long time to wake up, but I indeed woke up. 

This June, I decided to take up a total of 6 online classes: Digital Marketing class this coming July, Digital Art and Digital Painting, Video Editing, Website Development at Udemy, and Digital Journalism at Reuters. I hope I'd be able to finish this all. This frustration at myself led me to this decision. I know I had to do something. If I won't ever go back to teaching, my best option is to work in the advertising or freelance industry. I was hoping to become "marketable" and offer my services again to various clients as my freelance work. I know it would be hard, as I'm struggling to focus on reading texts and watching videos.  I am at home for more than a year, I missed the outside world. My condition as someone with lots of comorbidities forbids me to work outside of my home. My best option is to work from home, as I can no longer commute for fear of getting COVID-19. With my weak lungs and paper-thin immune system, I fear I might die sooner if I insist to do more than what my body is capable of doing. 

With that said, this is just a short update on my life thus far. I am doing okay. Still struggling to get my footing with life, but I won't going to lose hope. I just have to try harder. Trust me, this is my pep talk to myself. Thoughts of suicide still linger on. I never hid that with any of my journal entries. I feel helpless with my situation. I still cry, feel self-pity, and hate myself a lot of times. I am my worst critic. I feel insecure. I think of the "what ifs". What if my mother died suddenly? My brother has his dad. He has a family to go back to. How about me? I'm considered an adult. My mother is my only family. What would I do in life without her? Thoughts of my mother leaving me someday, one way or another, made me feel even more terrified. Someday, everything will disappear. The house I'm living in, the cushion of relatively middle-class life, etc. Mom has a small business but she never taught me how to run it. she doesn't even expect me to actually inherit her business, as she thought her business would die before her. I feel sad. If only I was taught how to make money, I won't feel this insecure. Money is freedom, and if anyone says money isn't everything, either too rich to live or was living off someone else's money. Money isn't going to make people happy but it provides creature comforts and security. It provides food on the table, clothing, a roof over one's head, provides sustenance to the needy, sends a child to school, books, art materials, a piece of land to use for farming, ergo, things that make people happy. 

I'll end this entry with hope, as it is 5:06 A.M today. They say that sunrise is a start of a new day. Sunrise symbolizes new beginnings, and hope for a better future. I hope today is the day I'd be able to get myself out of the quicksand of negative feelings and emotions and continue to do what I do now. I still dream of getting that Pearson Vue certificate, to re-enroll in a Digital Marketing class, to get a job in the advertising industry despite my age. I hope these insecurities will get away from me. I just want to live and be myself again. 

A dance to honor my survival

Hey, diary.

It's been a while since I last wrote you a letter.

Sorry, I've been busy not living. Weird, right? I should have apologized for living my life, but the thing is... I am not living my life. I wasted months of my life, waiting for time to pass until COVID-19 is over. 

Alright, so here's the backdrop: Two of my family members had COVID-19. This entire 2020 is nothing but a series of worries and trying to cope with these worries. I spent 2020 feeling scared going outside, so I wasn't able to go outside for months. Not spending time outside, being near to patients with COVID-19, and not having a job. That's right; around September 2020 when I started feeling fed up with my job. It's not about the salary, as no matter how low, a salary is a salary. But I started feeling burnout and I am not on good terms with my coworker. I know, weak reasons to quit working, right? Yet at that time... I wasn't thinking about whether my reasoning is right or wrong. I was fed up with what I'm doing. I told myself... well, that's it, I'm quitting. Sayonara, job! 

So shortly after getting a job around June, I quit near the end of September. I wasn't feeling life anymore. I am also on and off meds, and on and off therapy for my depression and bipolar 2. I don't know if I could manage myself or I just felt okay because I'm cooped inside my room, inside the four corners of our house. I was not studying and was not reading books. I had a Digital Marketing exam for January 2021, and yet, no matter how much I try to study, nothing remains in my head. I wasn't myself. I wasn't motivated to study, nor even do the bare minimum of reading books. I was a mess. 

I don't know what happened to me. 

A friend told me to extend some kindness to myself. That it's okay to admit I wasn't feeling it... to the point of failing the exam altogether. I wasted my supposed "free time" for nothing. I thought, at least I'd have time to study and pass my exam, and look what happened. I only got 55% of the exam correct and I ended up needing to retake the exam after the pandemic. Another tuition fee needing to be paid. This time, I have to work my ass off if I ever want to study again. After this pandemic, aside from getting a house of my own (with a personal library and a small indoor vegetable/fish garden) I also aim to get a job that would support my want to retake a Digital Marketing course and Law. Yes, I am genuinely interested in law, despite me being too old to do any studying. I should have taken law when I was younger and not when I'm nearing my 30s. For crying out loud I should be done studying yet almost 30 years of my life I still do not know what I really want, hoping that taking up Law and working as a lawyer would help me fix this need for my life's meaning that I'm seeking. 

Anyway, enough of this blabbering. Two of my relatives eventually recovered from COVID-19. Maybe a good enough immune system helped in fighting the virus, or maybe the COVID-19 variant is weak enough for them to fight it off, but it doesn't change the fact that COVID-19 made it difficult for us to live. Taking care of the sick is mentally straining, financially straining, and with so many in our family being immuno-compromised, the worry that COVID-19 might soon get to us is haunting. I cannot believe, really, that we could get through the hardship, as we know that not everyone is lucky enough to survive the onslaught of the virus. As much as I am thanking our lucky stars, I am also disheartened for people who could not make it through, as the virus defeated their immune defense. 

Those who denied the existence of COVID-19 should think twice or thrice and listen to the medical experts and patients and families of patients who were deeply affected by the Pandemic. 

Another effect of this pandemic is the loss of awareness of time. Time seems to move too slow or too fast, it seems to be frozen as I see nothing but the four white, plain corners. Another effect of this pandemic is the loss of awareness of time. Time seems to be moving too slow or too fast, it seems to be frozen at times, too, as I see nothing but the four corners of my home. I missed seeing the clouds, the blue sky, the tall trees, the city landscape, the mountains, and the grass. I only see a glimpse of nature on my window sill, and to me, that isn't enough — it will never be enough — I want to feel nature, to see nature, to touch nature, to be part of nature; yet COVID-19 forced my and my immuno-compromised family to remain inside the house. 

Right now, I am striving to look for a job. I will submit my resume after editing it, as my resume needs to be updated and for it to have a new look. I am tired of my old resume, so maybe a facelift will do it justice. I hope to work in the advertising industry, to be honest. This is why I strived to study Digital Marketing in the hopes of getting a good job after I finished the course. First, I need to fix my Social Security number, then I have to do some work for my mother before I fix my resume. After all that, if I'm lucky, I'd go back to doing the things I love — casually reading books, having a job that I could do for years, and rebuilding my life. I want to have a better life than what I do have now. I want to own a small home I can be proud of owning, with a decent library and a small garden for me. I hate our house. There is no land nor space to build my own vegetable garden with a catfish fish tank, and no space for a study room/library. My mom hates the idea of me owning my own house, but who cares. Once I can pay for my own home, I'm moving out — possibly even applying for a job overseas for me to see the world without my family's intervention.

Despite me feeling helpless for not having work, with my mental illness on the tow, with me feeling unsatisfied with my life, I still hope for a better future for myself — as I want to live independently. I know I'm sickly and always in need of medicines, but if I won't live on my own terms, I don't feel I grew up and became an adult. I want to survive life on my own and maybe experience dating and living solo. I realized how lonely my life was, how am I not growing as a person all because I'm stuck in the same place all this time. This pandemic was my wake-up call; no one can truly control my life. I want to move out and experience life out there. I want to buy my own medicines, have my doctor's appointments, have my job, pay my own bills, and live and work wherever I want in a place I feel most at ease. I actually dream of owning a tiny home with steady water and electricity as I want to live small, but comfortable enough for me to have my favorite things inside of it.

I know it might sound like I'm just babbling and writing a fiction novel of my ideal life, but that's what I want. I want to live as a writer, still. I still haven't given up on that prospect even if I felt lazy and unmotivated in life lately. I still want to write books, but the thing is, I feel like I haven't experienced enough life. The things I write so far devoid of actual human interactions and rely too much on anime cliches and little of what I know about life. I'm dissatisfied with myself and my art. I procrastinate. I know I am awful. At least I'm supposed to be reading, but for months, I wasn't opening any book. I turned not a single page. I feel stupid. I read comics more than books when I'm supposed to be reading books, as words are my arsenal as a writer. I have a truly minor talent in drawing and digital art to consider comics, anyway. 

I keep on asking myself; what the fuck am I doing with my life? Why am I wasting my time feeling anxious and overwhelmed to the point of not starting anything? I even neglected you, my diary, for I couldn't even bring myself to write until I bought myself a premium Grammarly membership, a keyboard, and a mouse for me to feel like a writer. It is all for me to feel the banging of the keys and the loud click of the mouse, as a laptop trackpad and a built-in keypad won't suffice my need to press the keyboard so hard I can hear the letters as I type aimlessly. I am no longer sure of what to write; I lost my train of thought as I paused and think for a second. 


Anyway, I am still alive. I am doing well. Listening to a piece of writing music as I type this word salad, hoping to write something cohesive next time. I still want to write a Boys' Love novel with action and geared towards teenagers. I know, right? Teenagers? Why? I don't know. Maybe I haven't really reached maturity myself. I haven't really grown up, though I've aged in numbers. I still remember my high school self feeling frustrated as I can't write a decent boys' love novel of my own. I still have that frustration. I still dream of writing "the best next thing" in the Boys' Love romance section of books. Crazy, I know, but I love it. Boys' Love is the romance genre I dig so much despite me being a woman. I just love it. 

I guess this is enough life update for now. Once I gained the courage or energy to write, I'll write more, until it forced me to write that fiction novel I've always wanted to write but couldn't write past chapter three. 

I know it's a cliche, but the act of writing and reading is still my refuge. I feel a part of myself died as I stopped writing and reading. How was I able to manage without me doing the very thing I want to devote myself to? Why can't I hear the sound of my voice, wanting, demanding myself to read a page or two before I fall asleep? Is it really about the pandemic, or was it something else? Why did I let my life feel so dull and less colorful? I even resorted to typing away this word salad, as I dance with my clammy hands, trying to make the words come out, hoping that my words would mean something. I dance, in celebration, of my sigh of relief as I was able to get this far in life — and remembering that I was able to get this so far in life is because I did not do anything in life. I literally lived like a bum. I hate my depression; I hate being unmotivated in life. Maybe I should go back to therapy. Maybe this is ADHD, manifesting now that I am an adult — finding it hard to cope so much in life. I feel crap. I need help, but I don't know where to get it. I feel like this late at night thoughts are the only thing I have right now to make sense of what I am thinking and feeling... which makes little sense to me at all. 

I need to go back to hitting books. I missed the comfort and profound wisdom that books used to give me. Of course, I know I will bounce back. When, though? I am tired of waiting to come around. I just want to come around and save myself from my misery. 

Teaching during a Pandemic

I am a first-time teacher, excluding my months of experience as an ESL teacher. I am teaching online. Back then, I thought teachers are always in control of everything. They have control over their lessons and they have control over everything that happens in a classroom. As I get to know the profession, however, the wall of misconceptions I built during my childhood crumble, one dirt at a time until all the rocks and hardened mud falls apart. 

Collapse )


Hello, it is me again. I am having thoughts in my head. I did not do any work. I feel guilty. I feel ungrateful for the gift of work I was given, for I am starting going back to a downward spiral. Am I simply sick and tired? I thought work will give meaning to my life, will give me a routine, and motivation to get up and do my work over and over again. This pandemic made me feel caged. Not going outside because of my poor health and because of the pandemic made me miss people. I am sick and tired of work. I need a break, yet work demands more of my free time. It demands my time for myself during the weekends. I am feeling the burnout. I feel like not doing anything. I am sick and tired of trying to smile and be nice, and to be disrespected. Is this how adults operate? You get all the fun when you're the higher up, fucked up when you're at the bottom? This is pathetic. There is no other way to describe it. All I want is to see nature, to unwind, and not do any work. I love to write, to go back to writing, and to actually mind my education. Yes, I want to go back at school. Study law, maybe. Get a job in the government or law firm, and then work only until Saturdays. I am sick and tired of looking for work. I feel like I wasn't skilled for anything. I cannot over-exert my body for this body is really weak. It gets frustrating sometimes - to not be myself, to always feel on the edge as I get frustrated about a job that fits me. Teaching is not it, for it demands more than what I can give. Not only does it pay fucking low, the workload is too much for a sickly person like me to handle. I feel shit. Not being able to help with the finances makes me feel shit.

Life reflections

Work made it hard to retrospect, and meditate. Work made me sacrifice my reading, writing, and learning time, which, I do believe should be the other way around. Work gives me a sense of purpose, not gonna lie, but there are way too many sacrifices for me. I can't think of anything else but work. After my shift, I have to do some paperwork. I have to reply to my students' inquiries, I have to answer emails from colleagues. I have to sacrifice my Saturday schedule, which is supposed to be for my education, time away from work, now taken by work. I am in a phase of rebellion. After the half-day faculty meeting, I've read romance novels. Two novels to be exact, named Pian Pian and Training a bat. It may not be familiar to you unless you read Korean novels and webtoons like me. I cannot help but feel resentment, to say to myself, "Hey, today is my free time. I know I have paperwork for Tuesday but THIS IS MY FREE TIME." I focused on my novel reading, and I enjoyed it a lot. I enjoyed it so much so that I think I feel less guilty for not doing my work during the weekends. I am sick and tired of working for more days than I am paid for. I am sick and tired of checking the students' papers, and I am sick and tired of answering emails beyond my working hours. I am feeling the burnout already. I hate how much workers are being demanded too much of their time. I hate the fact that I feel guilty whenever I want to spend time for myself, thinking that I'm supposed to be working even on days I was not being paid to do so. I hate below the minimum slave wage that I receive as a teacher, I hate that no matter how hard I work, the money I receive is never enough. All I want is to do my art and earn some money from it. This is why I am working anyway, for me to sustain my passions and get published. My spirit sings whenever I am writing my novels. I enjoyed my stay in the Graduate School in spite of all the pressure to maintain grades is because I enjoy learning. I enjoy what I am doing. I enjoy the company of like-minded individuals and get to deal with people who are totally different from me, aside from a similar interest. 

My work no longer makes me happy,  but the money is steady, no matter how low. I get to save it up for my wants and I get to pay for the few luxuries that my mother wants. I really wanted to quit, yet in this economy, I doubt I'd get to find another job soon. 

School is one of the things I've neglected after the pandemic. I'm supposed to have an online exam on September 30. I am supposed to finish the modules before September 30, but right now, this seems to be impossible. I was at school before I got the job and the pandemic. I did not anticipate that it will be this hard to do two things at the same time. I feel like doing nothing during my off period. I feel lazy yet I cannot afford to be lazy — all for the sake of my class and the school. All for the sake of my work that I have mixed feelings about. 

Out of the two novels I've finished, Training a bat gave me an existential crisis. It's a sappy high school romance between a vampire with a childish personality and a depressed guy having too much blood. Training a bat gave me sadness and a tinge of melancholy. The novel is good, not going to lie, but it made me miss meeting people a lot. I felt like crying, after finishing it. I do not want to do anything. I want time to stop, to process the happy ending I saw. It was literally yesterday when I first witnessed their first meeting, and the following day after, they got married and lived happily ever after. Then I remembered it is still pandemic. I missed meeting people. I missed seeing friends, I missed talking to people beyond the screens. I reflected on my life, and I realized how lonely was I. I feel envious at the characters' happy ending. They found each other amidst strangers. They fit together like a good pair of gloves. Their personalities, though clashing at first, suit each other well. I longed to have that kind of connection. Not exactly a lover, or a spouse, but I longed to have friends I could talk to during ungodly hours of the night whenever I feel down, for that friend to talk to me any time of the day, texting me and all, at least giving me a heads up if ever they need someone to talk to. I longed for their friendship, not exactly on their romance. The way the characters stick with each other through thick and thin, their misunderstandings, and how they try to fix it instead of running away, to love each other in spite of the things they are lacking, in spite of their mental traumas and all. I've longed to talk to a person and to meet that special kind of person, whose mind I could connect with, someone I could approach without feeling guilty whether I'm bothering them or not. I've longed for that happiness. I do not care about romance, but I wish, I really wish for friends to talk to. I feel lonely, and empty inside. 

Sickness in the Time of COVID19

As of writing, I am on my way to recovery, I guess. I am still not sure, because I'm experiencing slight chest pains. I cannot describe it. I am supposed to be okay, yet, as I listen to my body, there's still slight pains somewhere. I stopped writing for a brief moment. I thought of resting my body, listening to its dull, internal pain orchestra. 

For the last couple of months, I focused on my work. Stress is part of being an adult, I know, but too much of it may break the body. I feel the burnout already. My body is slowly breaking as I struggle to be more productive. 

For the last couple of months, all I did is to work. I work as a teacher. Very little pay. I work for at least 8-12 hours a day for seven days but only paid for 5 days. And now, since I got sick, I haven't received my payment for August. I only received 6k pesos for 7 days a week of work. Not that I am complaining, as the work of a teacher is beyond the usual 8-10 hour work. Teaching is a vocation, even to a private school teacher like me. 

My work takes its toll on me. I had asthma which lasted for more than a week. I am on my way to recovery, or so I believed until I had my chest pains just today. I do not know what to do. In the middle of my online class, my body just felt ill. My chest hurts. Until now, as I type this, my chest still hurts. A dull ache that never goes away, but I had to say I'm okay or else my mom would get sick worrying. 

Ever since I had asthma, doctors are hard to reach. COVID19 made things worse. All patients with mild symptoms are told to go to the Emergency Section of the hospital, knowing that COVID19 patients are also there. I heard rumors: some COVID-19 patients claimed that they got their sickness due to overstaying in the hospital, as they were tested negative for the virus when they were still an outpatient and then tested positive upon staying. All because of asthma. 

Sunday last week, my asthma acted up. I lost my voice, my throat hurts, I can't breathe. I am having a hard time, but relatively ignored it last week Saturday because I really do have slight throat pain and losing my voice since I am teaching. Losing my voice is normal to me. I already feel pain and is agonizing since Sunday, but I ignored it. I had a Sunday class (as a student) thus I had to attend it. After my online class, my body began to break down further. Breathing becomes painful. Every breath is like breathing sharp glass shards while my chest is being pressed on constantly with a heavy object. I had to take more air in, as normal breathing feels suffocating due to my raging sore throat; as if someone is holding my neck the more I try to normalize my breathing. 

For a week, I was hooked in a nebulizer. Monday, I took medicines. My mother relied on the past medications given to me as no doctor wants to take me in. It was Sunday, and still, it was hard to breathe. My parents rushed me to the nearest hospital she could ever find. Mother signed up a sheet for me, indicating that I'm having a hard time breathing. It was agony. I was wearing a face shield and face mask, trying to take more oxygen in. I am not rapid breathing as I learned to breathe properly during those times when my lungs aren't functioning properly. 

The emergency doctor I met years ago once said that during an asthma attack, one has to breathe from the diaphragm - to expand my belly as I take more air in, then slowly release as I exhale. So I did just that. It worked. Mom thought I was okay since I do deep breathing, but I told her that I wasn't. I was gasping for air, struggling to breathe, still. Mom was trying her best to ignore my condition, for her to believe that I was doing okay. It wasn't doing any good to my morale, so, while still in excruciating pain, told her to stop ignoring and listen to me. This is my body. I know I wasn't okay. Taking in the hot afternoon air feels like taking shards of glass inside my lungs. It was around afternoon when my parents decided to send me to a nearby hospital. 

When we handed out our filled papers to the stationed nurse, we were shocked; the doctor refused to treat us. We were asked to go to the Emergency Section at the hospital farther from where we live, any hospital that takes in "suspected COVID19 cases" like mine. Mom refused to send me to the Emergency, saying my weak immune system might kill me for good if I visit a hospital that admits COVID19 positive patients. So we went back home. Mom called a lot of nearby doctors, trying to look for someone who could take me in. No one wants to take me in. There is one Pediatric doctor, who is like a family friend to us, guided my mom on what medicines to buy over the phone. She cannot be my doctor since I am 27 years old already, but she said she had a general practice before she became a pediatrician. Mom trusted her judgment and followed whatever she was saying. She bought nebules and hooked me up to a nebulizing machine once we arrived home. I no longer do deep breathing as controlling my breathing exhausted me. So shallow breaths ensued. My chest hurts and I feel like fainting. I almost tripped my foot as I descend from our van, going inside our home. 

Two shots of nebules, using a really strong medicine. It caused palpitations. My body feels warm and heavy as I take in more smoke coming from the nebulizer machine. I endured it because it helps me to breathe. I noticed how easier it was for me to take more air in the more I inhale the medicine. So it works... for three hours. After that, I had to hook myself in the machine all over again. 

It was Monday morning when my employers texted me. They said I need to submit my work (learning package) to ensure the students will have an activity for the week that I'll be absent. So I did it. I did the activity, I finished the activity that I was doing since Saturday before my body went down south. I only need to put together the paper and then it would be set. After typing the paper, I sent it to the students and the principal. I did it as my mouth and nose were hooked to a nebulizer, gasping for breath in between typing words on the computer. The students get to have their vacation and excuse letter, workers do not have such luxury, or else the rest of the operation will be affected. So I had to do it. After I was done with the learning package and submitted everything, I felt like fainting. My eyes went blank and I fell asleep on my bed, the computer still on. I woke up feeling heavy and my lungs felt like being pinched. I looked at the clock on my cell phone, it says it's time for my nebulizer session. It's past 3 hours. 

One of the mistakes I had is to clock in during the time I did the paperwork. The next day, my boss told me that I will be marked absent either way. I had to do the paperwork but I'm still either way. No teaching, no pay. So for a week, I will receive no salary. 

I discussed my resignation to my parents, telling them about my situation. This is how bad this is. I am getting more stressed and depressed with my work but the compensation I get isn't enough to justify all the stress I am having. I felt sick and tired. I told myself, I know we are having a pandemic and the economy is shitty right now, with more than 17% of the population without work, with many industries closed aside from high-risk, low-paying jobs like nursing and food industries, I might end up dying if ever I'd take those jobs. With this body — ha. Until now, I am still having trouble breathing in. My chest still hurts, and I feel like throwing up. Just when I thought teaching would help me find meaning with my life, I feel the burnout already. I never had any proper rest. As much as I try my best to teach and be the best teacher for my students, it feels like everything I do is wrong. I never had any proper sleep, and I cry due to frustration, as I never had proper training when they hired me and now I had to constantly play a guessing game so that I can design the curriculum based on my principal, co-teachers, and students' liking. I never sleep well. there are days that I never eat or sleep as I focus on teaching. That's probably why I felt ill after some time. 

I lost my passion, so to speak. As my body gives up on me, I also felt giving up with work. I discussed my resignation. I really plan to resign, to hand over my resignation letter on Monday. To stop working, and stay until September 15 at most, say goodbye to the school for good. I haven't made my resignation letter as my self-diagnosed muscle pain is acting up. I only had so much time on the computer before I stop again. 

From Tuesday to Friday, I did not clock in. I did not entertain the emails of my students and my co-teachers. I let the school handle everything. I am feeling tired, all I want is to recover from my sickness. It isn't helping that I feel irritated at people. I snap at people as I am losing my patience with my body and other people's nagging. It also wasn't helping that my brother is punching and kicking me whenever he thinks I'm annoying, just for telling him to dress up or else he'll get colds. I can no longer tolerate people. So I shut down. I try to talk less to my brother. I want people to stay away from me as possible. All I could think of right now is to read and write, as the written word is the only solitude I have right now. My physical pains made me feel uncomfortable. I feel like vomiting all the time. I am sweating even if it is cold, and I'm angry, even when I am in my own company most of the time. All I want is to rest, to go back to the usual, to do meaningful work with better working hours. I am tired as hell. 

It is August 15 today, Saturday. My sickness started on a Saturday, last week. I'm writing this diary in my journal, still feeling sick. I was given until Tuesday to rest, and after that, Wednesday, I had to go back to work. I don't feel like going to work with all the pains I still feel, as I feel like vomiting. My mind refused to do any work. I no longer want to do any work at least for another week. I would rather hand over my resignation letter, for me to have 30 days processing to see if it gets approved this month. I want to go back to my love, which is the written word. I want to write stories and work whenever my mind and body feel like it. To read and to write and be me. To work in less punishing hours, as  I know my body cannot handle too much burden. All these stress and the pay is not even enough to make me live independently. Low pay, high stress, and no job security. I hate my life, I hate how it became like this. I longed for independence but this is what I got. 

So tired, all I did is to sleep.

So, yesterday and a few hours today, I did not do anything. I did not do any work. I am tired and demotivated. Yesterday, all I did is to sleep and surf the net. Today, all I did is to watch Youtube, read a couple of short stories, and lazing around. The job demands me to work for 7 days a week, but a part of me is revolting to the idea. I'm burning out and I haven't lasted longer than 2 months working for the school. 

Of course, I forgive myself for the day and hours spent on myself. I understood the fact that it is my mental break. I am tired and I need rest. Yet, a part of me is also screaming at me, telling me that all of these are excuses. That I feel guilty for that day's rest. I feel like I should spend my weekends to do my work and my weekdays to do more work. My mental health is getting worse. Not only I get depressed since the lockdown, but I am also feeling the mental burnout. I am contemplating to resign and just look for another job.

As I think more, the more I get lonely, the more I feel stressed, the more I feel depressed. This pandemic made things hard for me. Looking for a job almost became an impossible feat to do. I know that once I lost this job, I won't be able to contribute to the pot. My mom has no job, and my stepdad is not earning enough for the family as he is in the same situation as I am:  working for 7 days a week but only gets paid 5 days a week from Mondays to Friday yet working from  Mondays to Sundays. The paperwork is just too much. In my case, the bosses and the student no longer respect our personal time and just chat us whenever they feel like it. We even had meetings during a Saturday or a Sunday. Working from home made our employers think that we are available for work 24 hours a day for 7 days since we can't go anywhere or have a vacation. 

I am exhausted. I am sick and tired of this resilience thing. I am sick and tired of bosses thinking that all of our waking hours will be given to our work. I love working and I love to have a meaningful career. But I am also human. I need to rest. I need a day not thinking about work. I need time for myself. I feel like, during that Friday, all I did was to rebel from the expectations of my bosses — to do paperwork during eid. This Saturday, I woke up a bit late, I did nothing but to contemplate on things as I try to browse for a good resume and cover letter template. I wrote in my journal all the things I needed to accomplish for the week and I feel weak right after looking at it. I do not know. Maybe once I finish polishing my resume and attend my online classes, that's the only time I'll work on work matters. 

The reason why I am still determined to finish my work in spite of my body saying no are the students. The students need to learn. I need to do my work for their sake. I had to make sure that they will have a material to study and not just abandon them in the middle of the quarter for my needed mental break. They paid their tuition fees. Working at school is a commitment and not just a job that I can abandon or take a vacation from whenever I feel the mental fatigue. 

Life so far

Well then, since work will always be present in my life, I've decided to give a few hours of my life to myself. Teaching is all good, I am enjoying whatever it is that I am doing, but it doesn't mean I'll give the rest of my life away for the sake of my work. I need to have some rest too. 

So! I've decided to not do any work: not answer any emails from my bosses and students, and just "fuck it, this is my rest period". I've read "manga" (ahem, yaoi and hentai) and chatting with friends who are in isolation due to COVID19. One of the things they mentioned is 1. loneliness. Dealing with COVID19 alone in their isolation rooms and in their homes for those under home quarantine. 2. Not being able to do much, and so they tried to do activities that may take their minds off their sickness, even just for a bit. I really feel for them. Knowing how bad COVId19 is, I'd rather be more cautious than risk going outside, as I am an immunocompromised person. 

Anyway, it's time for me to record my life. As a famous saying goes, anything that is not recorded can be written off as if it did not happen. I do not know how long Livejournal is going to last, but I hope to preserve whatever writing I did, to say that I exist, this is how my life went, and so, I exist. I want to exist, at least to some people. I want people to know the stress and the joys of working from home, and why we should long for work and education reform for the sake of the next working generation. 

Because of the way we are working right now, I feel like work becomes more suffocating than ever. I am thankful for my job, really, but the stress and tiredness that I feel, the low salary and no overtime pay in spite of doing a lot of overtime work beyond the 8-10 hour stress me out. All this work and no salary increase to at least compensate for the work done. This is nothing but capitalistic abuse, with capitalists squeezing out as much as possible from their workers. We got no time for ourselves, working from the time we open our eyes until before we close our eyes. I am not complaining about the low salary, really, as long as I got a time off. Teaching has no time off. We get to do a lot of paperwork and teach from  Mondays to Thursdays. Parents and the management do not see the additional work done even beyond working hours all because our profession is in a work from home basis. Even if the work is a work-from-home type of work, we, teachers get tired too. we need to study the lessons and we need to do the 200+ paperwork, in addition to checking and grading students and conducting classes. I can't do anything else. I feel like I cannot rest even if my body is dying for some "me time". 

Of course, while I am studying, I am also at school, learning Digital Marketing. I Will study graphic arts and design next. I am planning to leave teaching as a profession anytime soon, once I got enough credentials and once the economy got better after the pandemic. I am already feeling the burnout. As much as I am happy with work and I am happy with my coworkers and immediate boss, I am still frustrated about the workload. Only a masochist and a martyr will spend this much overtime with no compensation and no break. In my case, I have a really weak body, so I must have rest days to recuperate from all the stress I am experiencing.  

Right now, I am not thinking of quitting, as this is the commitment I swore when I entered the school to be a teacher. I cannot just quit and say I am tired, even if I am. This is not anyone's fault but the system and the management perpetuating the system of overworking with no compensation and no free time. I am just rebelling as I'm writing this diary. My Digital Marketing class is over, for now, which is supposed to be every Saturday afternoon. I am waiting for the next sessions this August while waiting for the books to review for my Digital Marketing Class, plus the Pearson Vue exam I need to take. If only there's less paperwork to do. If only teachers are more focused on teaching the students and giving us more time to do the work and not overworking us until we drop, then maybe, I'd enjoy being in this profession more. I'd also have time to take more training to be more efficient as a teacher. I also noticed how much students are forced to have a lot of classes and a lot of homework and activities even in the new normal setup, as if the whole system is training students to take so much more workload than what's necessary. This is why I want my class to be less stressful. Since I am teaching literature, which is part of the humanities, I want my class to feel less stressed. I want to focus on their learning, to be in touch with their humanity, to tap their creative energies, to appreciate the arts and culture, and to mold them as compassionate human beings. If they are stressed with my subject and are afraid of me as their teacher, would they be able to learn? No. They will just burn themselves out and get tired easily. I want them to respect me as their teacher and respect my subject by not terrorizing them but by giving them time to learn and study with ease. To hope that one of them will choose to become a writer like I did, like the way my professor inspired me to be a writer during college.  

All these idealism are good,  but I am tired. I am tired of working beyond the prescribed number of hours in a day. I am tired of endless paperwork, I am tired of the management expecting new teachers like me to be good with technology while I barely had any training. This is not what they had promised when I accepted the job. They promised to give training but all I was given are webinars with canned sayings and cliche quotes and not much on the technical side. Don't get me wrong, I am not whining for the sake of whining. I am just voicing out my frustrations, for I know that no matter how much I complain, I'd still have to brave this through and still study all the things I needed to study either way. As if I have a choice for this matter. I just... I just... wanted to voice out my frustrations, to say that teachers too get tired, to say that me, as a teacher, are doing work that should be done by 2-3 people the most. There should be someone who would help do all the paperwork to ease our burdens and for me to concentrate more on actually doing the work as a teacher, and to not, please, let us be, newly hired teachers to learn on our own. There should be a system on how teachers should conduct themselves and not just learn as we move along. It takes a lot of brainpower and energy and it stresses me a lot. 

Moving along. I am having a hard time juggling work and my other work. I still haven't finished the freelancing gig I took when I was still unemployed before I was summoned to work as a teacher. My volunteer work was left hanging as well. All I could think of right now is to go outside, smell some fresh air, and have less stress. Being overworked and underpaid made me contemplate a lot of things. Of maybe I should just end it all and be isekai'd (being transported to another world after one died, either by killing themselves or dying due to freak accidents. Sometimes by dying in a natural cause, but according to Buddhist belief, if one died peacefully with no regrets, they get to be in nirvana and be with the other spirits in a spirit world where they could spend their eternity peacefully) to reset my life and live the life I want to live. I hate being overworked. I want to have time to take care of myself, do housework, and be with my family. All I want is to be able to sleep, go for a jog, and do hobbies. Work is overtaking my life. It dominates everything as if 24 hours is not enough to finish it all. All I want is to spend a weekend for myself and not for work. I longed to be in that kind of position right now. How I wish, how I really wish. 

Anyway, if I really think about it, there's nothing much to say, really. All I really wish right now is less working hours, like 8 hours in a week, then I'd get to spend the rest of my time for myself and my hobbies, or continuing education for my sake.  I do not know when will I get back ranting about life; hopefully, I'd have time to write more, to record bits and pieces of my life, and to remember the ups and downs of this profession and my journey towards maturity and success, that hopefully, I'd someday have. 

Moving Forward

Before I do my work obligations, I decided to write a couple of things in my journal. Sorry if I haven't replied to your messages, as I had no time lately. I woke up at 2am to put on some face mask and write things on my journal for a bit, before taking a bath in preparation for my work. I am looking forward to this. In spite of the COVID19 still looming around, I was able to keep the job. In spite of my mental illness and the crazy ride we had as a family, I decided to forgive myself for things I did not do during the so-called "free-time" I had. Ever since March, I'm not myself. I hardly eat, I missed going outdoors, visiting libraries and learning things with books on one hand and my phone on the other, as I ride a bus visiting libraries and malls for books. 

Am I prepared to teach? Hardly. I still don't know what to do. I didn't know how to properly do a lesson plan nor any of my subjects to teach. This semester, they decided I should teach research 2 for senior high students. I badly need help. That is why after writing this entry, I'll do a very quick shower before scanning all the documents they sent to me before the first Zoom meeting I'll be having with the rest of the faculty. I am nervous. I feel like a fish out of water. I do a lot of guided meditations to calm my mind, as I lose focus when I'm out of it.

I am writing to capture the last event that happened in my life. It was crazy. I had three free sessions with a psychiatrist that ended this June. It was a school-sponsored initiative to have a tele-consult for mental health. I couldn't think of anything nor do anything. Last few months, I couldn't sleep nor eat properly. It felt as if the life I knew turned upside down. I can't bring myself to be productive. I can't study nor even eat and take a bath. I am worried whether I'd still have a job or not. What if I am to be let go? I tried looking for other work to sustain myself in the meantime, yet work is also hard to come by. Just when things are turning bad, it gets worse. Our business is losing income. My mom had to save up whatever it is left of the family's savings in order for us to survive. The business stopped. The construction of new apartment units stopped. We cannot ask clients to pay their debts because they, too, are affected. Mass layoffs happened. Our clients tried to run the factories in 50% capacity for the desperate bid to stay afloat. Our family members did some little business here and there to earn some buck. This May to June, I took some ghostwriting project for me to gain some pocket money while I'm out of work. All while managing my crumbling sense of self. I told myself once I had enough money for a consultation, I'll pay to visit a doctor. I do not know whether my condition is a sign of other mental illnesses I am not aware of. I need to be thoroughly checked. I want to work and earn a living while fulfilling my dreams of being a writer and own at least a small plot of land to plant vegetables and other crops. 

June hits us the hardest as a family. A family member got COVID19. He got this from his work in the food industry. So far, he is doing okay, yet he already has diabetics and hypertension alongside COVID19. Last Saturday, the family brought this relative to the hospital after they experienced chest pains and palpitations alongside with high fever. The local government suggested that he should be put in an isolation room for his safety and for the safety of the people he has direct contact with, namely, the wife and our trusty assistant. 

Looming medical expenses awaits us. The isolation room in the hospital is around four thousand per day. this does not include the round-the-clock testing, monitoring, medicines, and other necessities of a COVID19 patient. Everyone has to pool resources in order for our relative to survive, as his salary alone is not enough to sustain all these expenses. My mother is crying, for none of the family could really support him but us. Mom did not know what else to sacrifice in order to save their life. I couldn't do anything but offer a glass of water whenever my mom cries. My step-dad even dared to fight mom as mom decided to let the relative use our van to bring them to the hospital.  Dad doesn't like the idea, saying that we needed the van in case we are in an emergency.  Mom threw a fit, saying that she doesn't need the van if it means saving the relative's life. even if it means not being able to use the van after some time. Someone needs to use it now and he has no right to object. That shut Dad up. He needs to be more emphatic sometimes. 

I was about to start my new job. After the zoom conference, I have to brave the outside to visit the school. I'd need to see the books I'll be using this semester and study all of them, if possible. If not, at least the ones assigned to me. I am new to this teaching thing, I need to be briefed with a lot of things. I am confident enough that I could teach kids, but I need to know the process of everything. I didn't know how to make a lesson plan, for one. Then I still need to know how to evaluate textbooks for the kids to use. I am so nervous, I didn't know. 

I always remind myself to do things one step at a time. I have a weak body, so I'll do what I can manage to do. My body sleeps a lot for some reason. Maybe it's an underlying medical condition that I wasn't aware of. I am scared, for I haven't checked with my doctors for many months now. It seems that the hospital is the last place on earth I wanted to see, for they do care for the COVID19 patients. Hopefully, this pandemic will be over soon. Then we can demand for the better next time. The way we used to live made COVID19 possible, so I believe, in order to ensure that this incident would not happen again, or at least minimize the damage it will cause, we need better systems in treating the environment and better healthcare and welfare system for those who will be most affected by economic recessions and pandemic. After all, as we can see, unemployment rose due to COVID19. Suicide due to COVID19 is happening in other parts of the world. Depression and Anxiety due to COVID19 are real. So next time, for the sake of the better society, we should rethink how we live our lives or else many more will suffer and die. 


I'm calm, serene, collected. It's 11:02 PM here as of writing. Since I write really slow, I tend to write my drafts until evening. I already see myself writing this journal until the early morning. I will continue to work until morning when the sun is up and I had to go down to eat. I slept the entire afternoon, so I think I'm good. 

The reason for this journal entry is because I am doing a lot of reflections. Of how much future I had left, or if there's no more left to look forward to. I cannot say I am scared, for tonight, I am calm and collected. But once I am faced with the real problem, in a real situation, would I still remain calm and collected? I hope so. Crossing my fingers. 

It is weird, but the reason why I wanted to be independent is to allow myself to do certain things, involve myself in some advocacies, be there for the people who matter to me. Family is important, true, but I think, my hero's journey will only truly begin once I learned how to live on my own. I want to try, even if I am sick. I'll work hard, pay for my medical expenses, live a healthier lifestyle, all in the hopes of living a good life. A simple, good life is enough. To earn enough to survive will do just fine. Of course, who doesn't want to be rich? I want to be rich. Rich enough to live the lifestyle I want but not too rich to make me a target for kidnappings and kill for ransom. I dream of owning a small farm, to live in areas near bodies of water or near fertile lands. Then I'll fence the house to deter people in robbing me in case I'm outside the country traveling. 

With all these hullabaloos in my country, it is hard to imagine a future sometimes. It's not like I am resigning to become productive, but the more I think, the more I realize how gargantuan of a task it takes to remain positive and future-driven. The simple life that I aspire, first, needs to have a capital. Without money, there will be no house to speak of, no farm to purchase. I am struggling. Without the kindness of my family around me, I'd probably be begging on the streets right now, or be forced to work on a slave-wage job that might kill this weak body of mine. I hate it when my body doesn't cooperate with me. We both wanted to survive yet we are both dead sleeping a lot of times. If I won't sleep, I'll get sick, worse, in coma-like sleep for longer periods. 

I cannot help but imagine the pain I'll feel when a gun was pointed at my temple. The image is scary. I'd probably beg for my life. In my imagined scenario, I might renounce everything I used to stand for the slim chance of sparing my life. Or don't. I'll die a martyr. But only me and a few close friends will know of my martyrdom if they are all still alive, or their lives spared by some miracle. I already know that someone like me is insignificant in the vastness of the universe. In war, people like me will be deemed as either the unfortunate casualty or the rebel who isn't so lucky to be still alive.

As I was about to finish this, I fainted to sleep. My heart slowed down, I feel like if I won't give in to my body's desire to sleep, I won't be okay for the rest of the night. The sun is up and I haven't finished doing any writing. I feel sick. 

This entry is more about talking to myself. All I want to do is to reflect on my life so far. How I was been? Have I used my life in a meaningful way? 

So far, I am still not satisfied. It cannot be helped, though. Who would be satisfied with mediocrity and unfulfilled life? And the quarantine made things worse. The jobs are getting harder to come by. Maybe, I should start having my ow LinkedIn account. Never had it before. Maybe, it is time for me to market myself that way. 

Life in quarantine made me miss the freedom to roam around. The freedom to do what one wishes. Before the quarantine, there is a job available. Before quarantine, I can eat, meet friends, and go to the library or a bookstore of my choosing. The life before the quarantine isn't like a fairytale, indeed, but still better for me. I missed having a life. Now all I got was seemingly endless Zoom meetings that make me feel emotionally drained after some time. 

I dream of weird dreams. Borderline into nightmares. It is not scary enough to be a nightmare, but the implications are there. I feel awake, yet my body is asleep, talking to myself, or having a mental conversation with someone else. It's like my brain's subconscious tries to cheer me up by giving me some made-up people in made-up scenarios. The talk varies from the mundane, day-to-day living to a more serious conversation like work. 

I figured out the real secret to productivity. Although this will give me headaches, I decided to still try this. Coffee doesn't work, for I get palpitations and I'll end up sleeping. snacking doesn't work, for I end up falling myself after consuming even tiny bits of food. So far, the most effective is hunger. If I remained hungry for the rest of the day, I won't have problems feeling sleepy. I can accomplish something by neglecting my bodily functions and focus on the task, even if it means punishing my body. I'll get cramps and headaches later, but as long as I can finish my work I'll be okay. 

I've been taking micro-jobs lately. The pay isn't good, but at least I'll get pocket money. The problem is me and my weak body not cooperating when I'm supposed to be productive. I no longer want to sleep, yet my body craves sleep. The more I sleep the less productive I become, the less output I do. I feel guilty. Thus I plan to punish myself more. No breakfast until you finish your writing job. No of this, of that, until you accomplish some tasks. 

There is one writer that I've read. As far as literature goes, his writing isn't exactly literary, apart from occasional quotes he makes from famous writers and some literary critics, his work isn't literary, but I can see why people love reading his books. He's entertaining. Even I was entertained learning more about his life, and his full-time job, and his romance with "a bad boy." What strikes me most about his collection of essays, is that he created a will at the end of the book. Of what will happen to him after he died and his family arranging his burial ceremonies. I suddenly thought of making the same. I mean, why not? In this economy and situation, a written will should be considered writing by anyone, even if it's not a formal one. At least a heads up for those who will be left behind. 

In my will, I wanted to be cremated. I want my body to buried under a tree, not in a cramp and undignified cemetery. I want my remains to be used as a life source for another life.

My family will take care of the remains. I am not married yet, so this should be automatic. I want them to take care of me until the end of my life.

If possible, I do not want a religious ceremony. But I'm dead, so it's not like it matter. Religious ceremonies are for those who will be left behind, to be assured that I'll leave this world in peace and that they, too will be at peace, knowing they "sent me to the other side" in a peaceful manner. 

I wish for flowers. Lots of them. I want to be cremated surrounded by beautiful flowers. 

I wish for my remains to be handled with dignity. As there should be dignity even in death. This is just a wish that I hope will be honored.

Since I am still single, I want whatever remains on my account, even if it is just a dollar, to go straight to my mother. She will take care of the remaining expenses or debts if I have one. 

I want my burial to be with family and loved ones. I wish all my friends to pay respects for me. If possible, I wish my parents would write an obituary for me, in case some friends aren't aware of me passing. Social Media accounts that I use will be in the hands of a trusted friend or be left alone with no one touching the content. As much as I trust my mother, I cannot trust her with my mind. She might delete the posts I made, especially those she might deem unsightly. I don't want her to be burdened herself with unnecessary things. 

That's all so far. As for the actual death — I hope to live until old age. Until I fulfilled my dreams and live peacefully. I hope to live in my entire youth and not be scared of the possibilities of police brutality and totalitarian fascist governments.