Every time I’m in Bacolod, I always end up picking up one of my old journals and reading through them and getting pissed off and frustrated at how stupid and idiotic I was as a young adult. I was over-emotional, always over-reacting, and I was throwing myself head first into futile situations.
Maybe it’s the gift of hindsight — looking back at the past with 20/20 vision, seeing the entire picture — but I sure loved the drama and I went for it no matter how blatantly obvious it was that it wasn’t making me happy.
I have kept journals from 1999 until 2006. I wrote on them almost every day, sometimes twice a day, if I had a lot of feelings. And boy did I have a lot of feelings back in those days! As an adult, I go through them and I see how far I’ve gone, how much better I’ve become at making decisions, and from staying away from the things that made me unhappy.
Most of my drama now come from the price of my reckless behaviour. Most of my challenges stem from the complications brought on by my HIV. I’m always working around it but, basically, I get through life okay now as compared to before. I used to make such bad decisions and I really had no love for myself back then. I’ve grown so much and every time I pick up one of my old journals, I just end up being so angry at my younger self because I was so dumb and so stupid and so reckless with my choices and with my own soul.
Maybe I’m tougher now because of the decisions I made. Maybe I’m the kind of person who has to go through the gauntlet to come the way I have and if I didn’t go through that, I wouldn’t be this person that I am now.
I like who I am. I like who I’ve become. I like the fact that I am patient and kind and generous of myself and my time and effort. I could afford to be more determined for my ambitions and desires but I wouldn’t give up being patient and considerate and kind. I know I just complimented myself just now but that’s what a little people have told me, that I am all of those things and maybe I had to go through all that shit I put myself through to get here.
Those journals always meant the horror s I did to myself. They are a cruel reminder of the kind of person that I was. I see it and I shudder but when I’m here in Bacolod, I always have to take a look.
A few days ago I looked at the pages again and I found an entry that surprised me. It was from January of 2003. I had written that I had just come from a shoot for YoungStar magazine and I had just interviewed two celebrities on a yacht, one of which was Khalil Kaimo, one of the actors of No Filter and who is now one of my dearest friends.
Twelve years ago, I met Khalil and who knew that after all these years I would work with him and he would become one of my closest friends. It was such a pleasant and wonderful surprise to see Khalil’s name in one of my journal entries.
I had met before, all this time, and I don’t know… could I have strayed from the path that I was on and found myself here, where I am now, without having to go through all of that shit?
I told Khalil and he said that it was probably around the same time that he was going through his wild days. Maybe we weren’t supposed to be friends yet at the time and that if we did, we might not have become friends at all — us going through our individual wild periods.
I don’t believe in things happening for a reason and I don’t believe that we are supposed to meet certain people or that certain things had to happen. They just do and we make the best or the worst out of whatever situation we find ourselves in.
It’s just a pleasant and wonderful sense that I was already, somehow, bumping into these amazing people that I know now. It’s so nice, for a change, to find something in my old journals that is delightful and pleasant.
For a change, I picked up one of my old journals and instead of being angry at myself and frustrated, I was delighted by what I saw there.
It makes for a nice change.