There are few things that make me cry.
A song, perhaps. Someone’s death, maybe. Or getting my heart broken, surely. But my tears also well up over some good things. A small gesture or affection from a friend, or a loved one. A film that touches me inside. A poem, even.
But problems? I don’t think so.
I have learned at an early age not to cry over these things. I’ve learned to suck it up and show a smiling, if not resolute, face when beset by problems. Because I have been taught at an early age that things–including problems, have a way of working themselves out. And if they don’t?
Well, I have also learned that no matter how screwed up you get, you’re not the first one to get screwed up, or the last, even. In short, the only way to get through a tough time is to become tougher.
If only things were this simple.
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Kris Aquino had the good fortune of being directed by Ishmael Bernal early in her career. The title of this film escapes me now, what I remember is a scene–a snippet of a dialogue actually, with the character being played by Christopher de Leon. She’d been crying, tears wetting most of her cheeks, when she said, “Bakit walang sumeseryoso sa akin?” (Why is no one taking me seriously?) The line was said with utmost sincere pathos. But there was also subtext that existed outside the film itself. At that time, Kris’s fame (infamy?) rested mostly on her being the daughter of Cory and Ninoy, the rest probably on her cute, tact-less charm, but not on her acting talent. So the line, her next-to-nothing-acting notwithstanding, was particularly ironic, if not poignant.
Of course, I found it a bit funny as well. But not now.
Maybe because I find myself saying the same thing, when I’m alone with my thoughts (which happens a lot lately).
However, I think the sadder part of this questioning bit is the fact that I have a multitude of answers: possible reasons and circumstances and decisions that have resulted in this situation, that have led me to this rut. And I have no one to blame but myself. Ten years ago I wrote about cynicism, when I’d decided that I wasn’t one, in spite of being called as such by a former lover. It’s true: I wasn’t a fault-finder who always thought that people only acted to benefit their own interests. I, in fact, always tried to find what is good in each person even if their reputation seems to precede them like the most embarrassing case of halitosis.
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