Thursday, May 19, 2011

Extraordinarily Ordinary.

Like any other storybook, mine started with. . . .Once upon a time.

In the morning of November 28, 1991 at exactly 7:14, a baby girl named Na.Na was born. Yes, I was born that day. I wasn’t born healthy though. I experienced cord coil thus I was held inside my mother’s womb for quite some time until the OB – GYN decided that it was time for me to see the world, well, the delivery room first.
Fact is, it isn’t our mothers who saw us first when we're born, it is the OB-GYN; also, it isn’t our mothers who first touched us, it is the nurse-in-charge in the nursery room.

The pediatric doctor thought that I may have ingested wastes because I was held too long inside my mother’s womb and so, she ordered the nurses to have me injected with antibiotics.Yes, for one week after my mother and I were discharged from the hospital, I had to have antibiotic shots.

I read a book once and it stated there that there is a big possibility that I may have a damaged brain or worst; I may have died even before I opened my eyes because of the cord coil thing. So, I came up with a conclusion that maybe because of what happened to me, having experienced your own cord, the cord that connects you and your mother, coiled around your neck which hindered oxygen to go into your brain, is the reason why I have such messed up thoughts.

My name isn’t really Na.Na. but  I’d like to keep it that way. I am extraordinarily ordinary; I was raised by an ordinary family in an ordinary house. In short, I am just a commoner. A common person just like anybody else.

I have a story just like everybody else. Like, how my father bought me a car but then he decided to sell it; how I tried hard to be somebody else when I know that I am better off, me; how I can't seem to understand my own mind; how I picture myself cutting off my abdomen a lot of times and planned murders and suicides; how forgetful I tend to be; how I brave I let on just so nobody would ask me if I'm okay; how stupidly I acted in high school to the extent that my teacher named me names; how badly I was hurt when I got cheated on by the first person I trusted so much; and etc. 

I have trust issues, abandonment issues, hell lot of issues. I may never be able to totally trust someone because I've done that and it fuckingly ruined my life. I have messed up thoughts, confusing brain.

My life is a book. It's a compilation of stories, stories that may be tragic or happy or whatever emotions are there. I don't know how and when it will end. Will I have a tragic ending or a comedic one? or  Will I ever have my own version of prince and 'happily ever after'? Truth is, I don't really know and no one will ever know.

All I know is, this is my life; this is my book. I am the editor, author. It may take me a year, maybe 20 but it's still an on-going book made in order to give this mixed up world a tiny eenie bit of significance.

This book may never be read and my name maybe forgotten but honestly, I don't really care.

*senseless Na.Na*

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