Rugby-Boy Rantings

Posted in Uncategorized on December 5, 2014 by Khukei

A rugby boy touched my side through the bars at the canteen last year.
Yesterday another rugby boy tugged at Gwen’s pants with a metal wire. And he had the audacity to try again, he slipped his arm two more times so I decided to put and end to it and jumped and slammed my foot against his hand. Only managed to hit him during that first time. Then he spat through the bars twice; the first time through the lower half and the second time he climbed the wall just to spit overhead. We got hit. Never eating there again.

Now I find myself agreeing with that girl who ranted about how the street kids should be kept out. They need to be placed in some correctional facility and be rehabilitated.

Gipasagdan nalang unta? Gipasagdan ra baya jud at first. Unya kay ni utro man. So pasagdan nalang nga naay mag bira-bira or manghikap sa imo through the bars while you’re eating your lunch in peace? No way. Sayon ra magpaka as-if buutan kay dili man kamo ang naka experience. Kamo kahay ma ingun ato and mag epal and pakitang-tao dayun ko about morals and maturity?

The silent treatment or “pasagdi nalang” method only works when the other person is in the right mind and isn’t drugged. Let’s say your father is high on something and decided to butcher your family, pasagdan nalang nimo kay mature ka? Mu undang kaha na siya ana imong kalaki?

Kamo ra’y pagpaka-matryr diha.


Posted in Uncategorized on November 28, 2014 by Khukei

My choices are not predestined, but the consequences of my choices are already known to me. There is no easy way out. I am going to get bruised wherever I go; I will just have to decide which bruises are worth suffering for.

For every wound they’ve inflicted upon my heart, I laid down a brick. I grew up too quickly and too soon. Several years later, I found myself inside a fortress. The perfect defense. No one could get close enough to hurt me– but no one could get close enough to love me, either. I am all alone in my towers. Safe in loneliness.

At the end of the day, I realized that my fortress is not a display of my strength, but the epitome of my inner turmoil: every single brick representing a wound. All things considered, it seems clear to me now that I had spent many years constructing my fortress only to be destroyed at the right moment.

What do I make of this revelation now?

“Sleep Paralysis”

Posted in Uncategorized on November 20, 2014 by Khukei


I became aware that I was asleep and about to be attacked. I turned my head to the left and mumbled, “God… God.. help me”. And then it happened. Suddenly I hear high-pitched laughter and a weight on my stomach. I couldn’t breathe.
It felt like I was at the brink of death, about to breathe my last breath– only this went on for an eternity, like I was dying forever. I felt a sharp pain on the left side of my rib. I don’t know what’s so special about the left side of my rib but they always seem to stab me there. This time I could see that I was being stabbed by a great old spearhead, brown all over with rust. It looked ancient, brittle, and had cracks, but still dealt a lot of damage. This went on for some time.

For a few heartbeats it stopped. I was catching my breath. I noticed that the moon was beaming light directly at me through the window. My bed is directly facing the window. It’s bad luck, according to the Chinese. I looked at the light and was once again plunged back into my torment. I couldn’t breathe again. My mind at this time was focused only on what was being done to me. I couldn’t think of anything other than the pain being inflicted on me. The spearhead was driven at my left rib again, only this time with greater force. I screamed.
Snap. I heard my physical body mumbling for Jesus. I was tossing in my bed. They weren’t there, but at the same time they were and I was still being stabbed with that spearhead repeatedly. I was in two realities at once.

Jesus. My mind and spirit called for Jesus. “Jesus. Where’s Jesus?”, I thought. And suddenly I could think more clearly now. “Jesus! Help me! Where are you?” and in that instant I saw Jesus  to my left, he gave me an it’s-gonna-be-okay smile, and then POW! A huge angel about 8 feet tall came and swung a massive mace at that thing that was sitting on my stomach. There was no struggle, the Angel just came and swung at it casually as if it were just an insect.
And everything was back to normal.  I looked out the window and the moon was nowhere to be found.

Math Blues

Posted in Brainfart on November 19, 2014 by Khukei

The root of my undying hatred for math and all of its godforsaken relatives:

Grade 3. It took me almost 2 weeks to understand the concept of rounding off.
Teacher was like, “if this is so, then this is what you need to do. Simple. Now you do it.” I was still trying to understand why a 7 has to become a 10, and the rest of the class were already doing their exercises. Of course they made me feel dumb. Teacher hurled insult after insult at me because I can’t understand something so simple. And what did that teacher do to help me understand? Wala. She just replayed herself, the only difference is that her yells grew louder and she added new insults when I still couldn’t understand.

I need to understand kase why I’m supposed to do something in a certain way and why it can’t be done in another. Why do we need to do this? Why do we have to solve this problem? And so what when we solve the problem?

Now don’t give me advise unless you were also made to stand before your whole class and humiliated by your teacher numerous times just because your brain processes information differently. She was my math teacher from grades 3,5 and 6. Imagine the crap I had to go through having the words “stupid” and “dull” drilled down my skull for years. I went through a depression in the 6th grade because of that and went full hikikomori for 3 months. Of course my grades suffered! I was in STEC. I passed the science high screening tests but my 79.6 average hindered me. And for the record my IQ is well above the average.

I do math when I play musical instruments. I do math when I compose. I listen to a song I like once and I’ll be able to play it right away– I do math there.
It’s not about how smart I am but how I am smart.
I have a mental condition but it’s not a learning disability. There is nothing wrong with me, I am perfectly sane. My brain just works differently!



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