Black Suit

By Mary Jane Aguila

I don’t understand why there are some people who can’t live a day without tormenting others. Not just once did I ask myself if there’s something wrong with me. What I don’t understand is why somebody would take the time to point out every move I make and put me into a humiliating spot. Everything I do seems laughable to her.

“Do you know why I hate you? It’s because I don’t like you. I hate the way you speak, the way you dress, laugh, sit, basta. Everything! I hate your accent. You’re so maarte. You’re so baduy manamit. You’re so -- ”

These words are still etched on my mind. I can forget these words easily, but what I detest is the simple fact that I’m being machinated by someone I can’t even consider a friend.

Exactly an hour and a half had elapsed since I woke up from my afternoon nap. I don’t want to get up yet so I stayed on my bed, just lying there with eyes closed, trying to get more sleep. But then again, I remembered her. Suddenly, a pang of anger crept all over me. I felt so angry. I was trembling.

Moreover, I kept on thinking why I didn’t fire back. Why can’t I tell her that the only reason why she keeps on intimidating me is just to please her so-called friends? Why can’t I simply shout out loud that she’s being stupid trying to please them? Why can’t she just leave me alone?

What if I was the one who could humiliate her in front of the class? What if it was me who could call her names? What if it was me who could bully her and taunt her? God, forgive me for this. But sometimes I imagine giving her a swift kick between her thighs as she shouts repeatedly so she could at least feel the dose of pain she had inflicted on me. Mocking can make someone lose her confidence and self-respect, and it may be enough for one to develop an inferiority complex.

But then again, guilt poured over me. I used to tell myself that I should understand her -- perhaps she’s just having fits due to various unknown factors. But then again, I am so tired of holding myself back and keeping my anger and frustration that I can no longer control my emotions.

Am I weak? We both are, only in different aspects. But despite this devastation, I pity her.

Yes. I pity her because she can’t wear girls’ dresses. I pity her because she can’t express herself the way girls do. That’s because she can never be a girl. She can wear skinny jeans and tight-fitting blouses as much as she wants to, but she will never be treated as a girl. She’s like a ballerina trapped in her own music box.

Why can’t she see that despite everything that she had done to me these past two years, I am still trying to see her good side? I know she is a good person. It’s just that she needed someone: a real friend. Someone that is different from the crowd she has, very far from those people who love her for what she has, people who stay with her because they want something from her or are way too afraid of her bitching and backbiting. I pity her because she can’t see the reason why up to now I don’t dare humiliate her even if I could. I pity her because she can’t see that no matter how stupid she might seem, no matter how rude she is and no matter how she loves tormenting me knowing that I hate it, I still like her. I feel bad for her on certain occasions.

I know that each of us have our own dreams to fulfill, own duties to accomplish, and own principles to carry out here in this world. Our school, for instance, is a very large room for us to grow. We came here to develop our personalities, to enjoy our youth, to prepare ourselves for the real world. Unconsciously, we are creating our own plot of story. An anecdote that we could share to everyone, one that we will carry forever, and it could probably be a story which one might consider as junk, but could be valuable to another. Bear in mind that we can’t force someone to change for our sake. For whatever it’s worth, there are some people who make us stronger even when they are disguised in a black suit called torment.