To His Mother

I respect you because you're the mother of the one I love. I respect you because you'll be the grandmother of the baby I am carrying. And I respect you because I've been raised by my parents to be respectful to my elders (even if it's really against my will).

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But how dare you create stories like that? That I'm the one chasing your son through and through time? That I'm the one who's so madly in-love with him and that I'm the one who couldn't live without him? How dare you tell everyone that your son's been working his butt out just to offer me a living. YOU are so wrong (future mother-in-law).

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Although I'm looking for reasons to break up with your son, I guess, I could NOT. I have his baby and I love him. But not the kind wherein it's one-sided. No Way. He's in-love with me, too. Or so he says. I don't really believe him though. He's done me a lot of damage already, and he already broke my trust once. But let's put that on a later blog. For now, let me talk to you, as his mother. Because you got all your facts wrong. And I never even bothered to correct them out of "respect".

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I am NOT madly in-love with your son. I do things for some reasons. I pity him, you can say. Where were you when he needed some food? Where were you when he needed a place to stay for a night or two? His job? Let me tell you, I was the one who got him his job. And no, I never bothered him with his oh-so-low-salary because I know that he has lots of obligation to you and your family. You've been bugging him for your birthday present, for his brother's new cellphone or his sister's badminton racket. I don't care what he does with his money. All I care about is that he may live, not just for a day, but for a lifetime.

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What he has been telling you are all lies. About his pawning his cellphone. About his work. About the slut he slept with when he got drunk after pawning MY cellphone. They're all a bunch of lies. But I still stayed with him. Why? He's got no one else but me. Without me, he would have starved to death. Did you ever care if he gets to eat three times a day? NO. You did not.

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I pity him. He's got no money, even a single cent. His cellphone got stolen. So he had to make stories up just so that you won't get mad at him. I have to pawn my cellphone and my digital camera just to keep him from starving. His uniform, his allowance, I have to strip them from my own allowance, which was, by the way, reduced by half by my mother because of the stories you made up.

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I pity your son, because without me, he's got no one. When he's sad, when he needs someone to talk to, someone to turn to, I am there. I am there because I pity him, and I love him. Add that to the fact that he's the father of the child I'm carrying.

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I am also giving him a second chance. A chance to prove himself to you and all the people who believed that he's a nobody. That he's a total failure. Although some part of me is starting to believe in that because of reasons that only I can disclose in the near future of this blog.

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For now, I'll end this up here. I'm tired. But I'm not yet sleepy. And by the way, HAPPY MONTHSARY, a-hole.