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cheesysaggychick · 2 years

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Truman Got It Wrong

(A Kabataan Essay)

Imagine being the main character of your own story. Your life has already been planned out from the day you opened your eyes. There are cameras watching your every move and directors that will dictate how you live based on the writer’s script. You don’t have any real friends because everyone around you is an actor hired to follow the flow of the plot. Even with the food that you eat, the soap you use to bathe, the toothpaste you brush your teeth with, they are all from the sponsors to keep your life running for people’s entertainment. Basically, you don’t have to worry about anything. You just have to live your life stress-free and hassle-free! Nope, this is not a movie, nor it is an advertisement. Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. So..what do you think?

At the ripe age of 15, I had the world in my hands…at least it seemed like it. I am doing great in my academics, I am thin, I’m closer to my friends than I have ever been, and I even have a boyfriend. Whaaattt? Sounds like I only need to be mean and have everything pink to be Regina George. Meh. My Kopiko 78 would be an insult to possibly her sweet tea with artificial sugar and some berries in her glittery pink cup. That day was a normal Thursday. No, it was not. It was our 4th quarterly examination, and Math and Science are all on the same day. I was psyching myself that I did good in the Math examination I had just finished. It was trigonometry. Nobody understands trigonometry, right? Since when did Math have kites you solve and diamonds you find the function of? Math has never been my favorite. If only this was a movie, I would not care. I would be wearing my chucks instead of the hurtful black shoes, sleeves rolled up, piercings blinding my teachers’ eyes, sporting a massive hangover due to the endless partying the night before yet I would still be able to pass all my exams because I’m the main character!

In a blink of an eye, people were suddenly breaking records saying

“Saraleo”,

“Raikantopeni”

and even

panties fell for Sara--Ti--Sara... I don’t know who for, Tine or Sarawat. You choose. (editors note: not me rewatching 2gether while editing this for the vibes)

I am so confused, I thought I was on a different planet. The Boy’s Love industry has suddenly taken over the world, specifically, my world. The world is on lockdown, which I don’t even know what that was about. What’s a lockdown? Isn’t that what they do in zombie movies when patient zero gets loose? Since we have nothing better to do with our spare time, people really said “since you are so deprived of any romantic stuff right now, why don’t we watch two actors play as a couple, right?”. People is me.

Well, that was toxic. Obviously, there are always two sides to the coin, which is in this case, the bad and the worse. The first is straight homophobic actors benefiting from the roles they have as homosexual characters. Secondly, the toxic “delulu”, a slang for delusional fans who treat the acting as real. Also, it has become a trend for BLs that year to have sexual assaults as the major plot or the twist of the story. Still, I waited every Thursday for the new episode of 2gether. I know, I’m a hypocrite. Am I? But imagine being in those series, experiencing tropes like enemies-to-lovers or fake-dating, and the wonder of all tropes, the friends-to-lovers. Ahhh, if only.

With nothing more left to do, I scrolled through my phone for the nth time. It had been my greatest companion during this time of isolation. As I clicked on Facebook and scroll through posts, everyone seemed to have been productive. It was #fitnessgoals, #quaranthings, #lockdownbody.

I suddenly became self-conscious. So, I broke up with my boyfriend. Random? Yeah, I know. I didn’t know people have been doing all these “healthy” things, meanwhile, I have been punishing myself with all the junk that I have been consuming.

The following day, I immediately got my phone and typed Chloe Ting for the first time in a long time. (The only clickbait I knew yet I still clicked anyways)

The more reps I’m doing, the more desperate I was getting. Slowly, I am getting lightheaded and started rethinking my life decisions. Why am I doing this again? I know it’s not to build my own endurance, gain muscles, or lose fat. I still don’t know until now. All I know is that people liking you is equivalent to your liking yourself, and I have seen society kinder to skinnier people than those of my size so, I guess I just answered my own question.

Honestly, for years I really thought I was fat, I knew I was. At least that is what was etched in my mind, by my family, and my relatives, I was even bullied for it. I hated the sight of measuring tapes, fitting rooms, and even weighing scales. Now looking back to my pictures before, I really wasn’t. But people were not nice, so what was that about? I feel like I had to be the nice and funny one because no one dislikes the nice one, right?

So, I starved myself. Yes, I know, it sounds dumb but that’s what I did. For months and on, I did that, and guess what happened? People stopped looking at me with their judgments peeling my skin off like a chemical peel. If this were a movie, I would just need a friend who “knows it all”, then one day just walks into school, hair falling, skinny waist, thick booty, and a miracle glow-up that even my closest friends will not recognize me.

Speaking of glow-up, I… was obsessed with my hair. And what do you do when you are obsessed with something? You kill it, right?

So, I chopped it,

then chopped it again,

and again all on my own, then for the fourth time, I finally went to the salon.

Obviously, people 18 and below are not allowed to enter the mall so I showcased my oscar-winning acting skills. After chopping my hair for the millionth time, guess what I did.

I bleached it, then bleached it again, then again, and again, until I finally dyed it, and dyed it again, and again, and again. By then I have more roots than hair. Honestly, I felt so much of a badass entering that Teams chat with different hair colors every week. Again kids, what do you do when you are obsessed with something?

You kill it. I have witnessed people who feel superior to others kill because of differences. I have seen people die due to the corrupt system the country is still built on. I have seen people fail just because their own government betrayed them and neglects their rights. I have seen people surrender because however loud they scream, they plea, they are never heard.

Why is it that the most valuable thing which is life has become so easy to be stripped of now? Killing has become as normal as breathing. Dying has become a great escape. Failing has become what was expected. Surrendering has become the end for all the hopeless. We have been so obsessed with how people live their lives that we don’t even recognize our own issues. We don’t try to learn for the sake of unlearning.

But, if these were all in a movie, I would make it as if death is not the end. But I told you from the beginning, nope, this is not The Truman Show, nor it is an advertisement. You are not Truman nor you are Regina George. You worry you stress, you hassle. Comfortability is a privilege. Like art, its meaning lies deep within, but one remains, art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. We cannot afford to be nonchalant as our time is limited.

Yes, our life is a story, but like any other story, it will eventually reach its end. The moment we open our eyes, it is unjust to ever close them again. There will be judgments, not cameras watching your every move. There will be prejudice, not the director that will dictate how you live your life based on what your parents demand. There will be strangers who will snake you and bite you which will make you fall. Finally, you will have everything that you ever need, and yet still have nothing at the same time.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. Although it was all for a show, at least it was perfect, right? Truman Burbank was wrong. So..what do you think?

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