I know I should have done this the first time I wrote on my journal, because this should be the introduction, but I guess I just didn't know that I should begin it this way, but here it goes.
I am Paul Daniel Aguilar, now 26 years, 9 months and 22 days to be exact. I am the eldest son, my only sister is one year younger than me. I was born and raised here in Biñan, Laguna.
I guess I have no perfect recollection of my childhood like everybody else, but I'd like to think that somehow it was meant to be that way.
My mother, who always told me that she nearly died giving birth to me wasn't really that much of a hands-on mother because she had to work that time to augment my family's income and so my aunts (her sisters) took care of me.
It was till I turned 2 or 3 years old that my aunts married and made a family of their own. So my father came home to reprise his role, actually he and mom took turns, this was according to what mom told me. I was a giddy child and looking at my pictures from back then I can conclude that I was cared for that much, being the only child in the family that time, I was pretty much the center of all attention.
I do remember my aunt Elvie telling me that I started scribbling at a very young age. Usually children only draw lines that don't make sense, but me? I started drawing shapes that time. I also remember mom telling me that at the time I was born, an architect died (I don't know how did they get this information), somehow she said that his soul reincarnated in me, well obviously this sounds crap, and I don't believe in it.
It was after a year that my sister was born. Mom said that April's (my sister) was an accident because she was not planned. Eventually my mom have to go to HongKong to work as a domestic helper to sustain our family. Dad came home from Saudi Arabia to care for us but like my mother, he was never a hands-on dad, even worse.
My father, well he is a typical father, emotionless, disciplinarian, strict, quick to anger and vengeful. Like her mother, I have concluded that growing up in a place where they have to be strong in emotion and body, transformed my father into the heartless man he is now. Well not really "heartless", almost, but I guess he is not good at expressing his emotions. Bad culture and upbringing plus bad genes made him terrible.
It was when my father decided to come home for good that all the bad luck came and circled upon us ever since. He always blamed my mother for not saving the money he sent us, and till now he hasn't forgiven my mother for that.
I couldn't understand why he was that angry. Why is easy for him to point and blame my mother, when I know that all the money he sent when he was still working abroad was spent wisely on us (me and my sister) both.
My mother who is sensitive and melodramatic is also a martyr. Even then when she first came here in Tubigan (because she's from Sta. Cruz) eyebrows raised, a commotion stirred. My father's family wasn't really that consenting to their marriage and since then have been treating our family quite unfairly. Being the martyr that she was, she wholeheartedly accepted that she was destined to be like this, to be hurt and be hurt again, even though she knew its hard to be condescending. She knew that she was viewed by my father's family as a threat and an intimidation to their pathetic existence.
I may seem biased, but I don't care, maybe I am really biased. I favor my mother more than my father because I grew up not knowing him. All I have of him are mere assumptions, from his body language, his dealings with other people, his techniques and his upbringing, because my father is a man of silence. He chose to be this way, only to be known this way.
I pretty much know that I was born gay. I remember back then I know that I was different, not that I prefer playing with toys for girls or wearing girl's clothes because i didn't, but because I was attracted with boys as well.
My body seemed to move gracefully like a girl and my voice and intonation seemed to sway even though I didn't want it to be that way. I was attracted to guys yes, but never had I had any recollection that I had malicious intent. Not that early. But my innocence was soon abused by the people around me. They took advantage of me.
I remember a distant kin rubbing his penis on me. I didn't know what he was doing and I can't remember the feeling I felt back then, but something in me like what he did. I liked his cock. maybe I like cocks. I was amused by them. How this thing of flesh can give pleasure and pain not withstanding. How it can conquer a woman or a man's heart for that matter.
I also remember playing with boys of my age and how we compare cocks and I would get that instant enthusiasm and excitement (not to mention the erection) just by looking at their boners. I struggled to keep myself from touching them, but of course kids of my age then are experimental and its normal, only I wasn't.
I sucked cock that early, I don't know if it felt good because some of them forced me to do it, most of them were just playing because to them its just a phase but to me, it was confusing.
A time came when all the pleasure and confusion became fear. A girl playmate of mine caught me blowing a boy playmate. She went to my parents and my father came furious.
This part of my life became my turning point and is the major event that shaped my personality. This maybe is the root of all my present inconsistencies. I have no complete recollection of what happened exactly probably because this is too painful for me to remember. I am not sure if what I remember was a justification for my anger or a feigned memory devised by my ego.
And so my dad dragged me outside for all the neighbors to see, and when finally I was inside my grandmother's house, he began to hit me with a plank, while shouting curses at me, telling me that I have given shame to the family. This perhaps has caused me unbearable pain as every hit became more than pain, more than fear, but anger. This hatred became the most important emotion I had back then and because I still had respect for my dad, I learned to bury it inside, and there it became immense and deeply rooted.
The insult to my integrity didn't stopped there for my neighbors then viewed me as someone who's different, and they judged me for that. My playmates discriminated me and so I distanced myself to them. But even worse was what my family did. They say that the greatest wound can be inflicted by the blade closest to your heart and it is. I thought my family would support me, defend me and understand me for who I am, but they didn't. Instead they aggravated the crime. They became accessories and perpetrators themselves. My hatred was so great that it is impossible to escape from it. I was locked inside my durance of hate and this hatred became my fuel, my backbone and my drive to survive.
I became aloof, scared of people, scared of straight men, because most of the insults i had was from them. I became scared of looking straight in the eye of people because I only see the terrible eyes of my father. I have lost much of my self-esteem and myself because what i did was I hid my true self away. i abandoned my true identity because it was too painful to be honest with myself.
Then on I wore a mask, denying that I was gay. Getting angry when someone calls me gay, not because I wasn't, but because I despise discrimination. I hated their ignorance. I know I could have stand for what I believe then but I didn't. I was too afraid that my family would disown me.
I became doubtful of everyone else. I became paranoid, I seem to view everyone as a threat to myself, because I thought they would hurt me again.
This denial of my true identity went on till after two decades of my life. I went to school, and i found my refuge there. Even though I had to wear my mask for my own protection, my high school friends accepted me for who I am. They had a feeling that I was not really myself bu they respected my decision. Everyday as I went to school, I breathe a lot lighter as if a heavy burden has been lifted from me.
My high school friends were the first to know the real me and they accepted me wholeheartedly. They were the first to save me from being eaten alive by hatred. They made me believe that there is really something beautiful just behind the clouds.
It was funny remembering how difficult it was to remove my mask and reveal my true identity but I survived, and like a glass on the verge of breaking that is full of water to the brim, my friends helped me empty my glass.
Everything seemed okay until I realized that my confession of my real identity to my friends is just a tiny speck in a bigger picture where bigger hurdles are present for me to overcome. Eventually I had to face them one by one.
The same thing happened when I was in college, but this time around it wasn't that difficult anymore.
At that point in my life I learned a valuable lesson, that by denying myself I constantly hurt the people that care for me. "What a tangled web we weave when at first we choose to deceive." That was the famous quote that brought me back to my senses.
Then on I have become more understanding of people but more importantly I became more aware of myself, because back then I was like a shattered glass. By becoming more honest with myself I paved the way for my own healing. Now one more hurdle remains to be overcome and that is to tell my family that I am gay. I have decided that I would tell them when the right time comes, and that time I thought will be known only to me.
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