MANILA, Philippines—A riot—what else could it be? The year 2009 was such a terrible year that I cannot find a better word to describe it.
For me, the year started with a terrible break-up. Not that I wasn’t aware it was going to happen sooner or later, but a break-up is never easy any which way you view it, and although I had already seen my two-year old relationship’s demise, I wasn’t prepared for how nasty it got. Also going down the drain with the relationship were some friendships, both good and bad. Some I sorrowfully regret losing, some I couldn’t care about.
My career wasn’t going anywhere either. It was a like a buzz, a long, disturbing hum that did not want to develop into a beautiful and promising tune like I thought it was going to be. The work place had become a hell hole from which I couldn’t easily get out of, especially with money involved. I had been living independently for over a year, and giving up a job just because I hated it meant giving up my independence, something I found hard to give up. Being in my early twenties and having been sheltered for the most part of my life, living the Makati city lifestyle was something I worked hard for and something I wouldn’t surrender now that I had come to relish it.
Looking at both sides of the coin, it was a first-quarter storm I patiently and thankfully withstood despite the nightly migraines, the ugly rumors, the bitter emotions and the hard facts. It was a nightmare, and what made it worse was that everything that was happening to me was real.
Eventually, the world caught on with my despair—in a far more dramatic fashion, as you would expect from Hollywood. Celebrity deaths became seemingly a fad, and quick to follow in its footsteps were swarms of paparazzi making sure the deaths were entangled in webs of truths and lies. Topping the list would be the early and unexpected death of the world’s No. 1 pop icon, Michael Jackson. Continue reading