I'm back in Manila and finally reunited with my cats that I've been constantly worrying about during my one month stay in the Netherlands. They were looked after by my youngest brother.
Mark's gonna be staying in the Netherlands for work and I'll be alone for a while. The house feels so weird without him around. Yesterday was the most depressing day I have had since 2007.
Mark's absence was bad enough, and then it got worse. The house was a big mess. It stinks everywhere. Our balcony was horrific. My plants were all dead. And the cats that I loved so much like my own were neglected. Their food bowls looked like it was never washed for a month, placed close to their litter box. I started crying. I feel worse that I have no one that would understand the frustration I was feeling at the moment. I guess I expected too much from my brother. I guess one month is too long to be gone too. I was angry, but it was also foolish of me to trust my brother to take over my responsibilities at home. Aside from the confidence he showed me that he can take charge and re-assurance that everything was fine, I thought he would care because he's my brother. In my immature side, I felt like I was tricked. I gave him my home with all the convenience and comfort that comes with it; my house that is in the heart of Makati's business district super close to his work; a kick ass computer with Internet connection; cable TV; hot and cold shower; nice and huge bed; and some monetary allowance - in exchange for just maintaining the house and treating it like his own, and taking care of my baby cats. I was in good faith and trusted his words. I could let go of the fact that my plants are dead, and the house was dirty. I could fix it. But what really hurt me was to see the signs neglect for my cats. All I ever wanted was to keep their food bowls filled and clean, fresh water to drink, and a clean litter box. He did kept the bowl filled, but filthy. He knew (and it's explicitly expressed) that I value my rescued cats as much as I value my family. And yet he neglected them.
On the other hand, in my rational mind, getting angry doesn't change shit. It will just make me feel worst. I still feel thankful that (thank God) my cats are all alive and not sick despite the bad sanitary situation. I still thank him for feeding them at least. I expected too much from him thinking he's not going to let me down and that he has matured overtime. Apparently I was mistaken. Maybe my cats were too much for him to handle. But at the very least he could have been completely honest with me rather than keeping my hopes up. I could have thought of a better plan before I left for the holidays. I'm still glad that I'm home and able to care for my cats again.
So now I'm taking things slowly. House is finally clean and back in order and cats are happy. It saddens me to see my dead herbs that I planted with my hands and took good care of. These plants consoled me when I'm stressed. These greens gave me momentary peace of mind when I need it. Now they are gone. But I'm going to rebuild it. It may take a while before I get used to being alone though. I cry every time I'm reminded of things that Mark and I used to do together. It sounds funny/crazy, but I even cry when I make coffee, because I used to make for 2, now I stir a single glass. Oh well, I hope that this passes by too.
I feel so uninspired to do anything... but I have to get my life back on track and focus on being productive. So help me God.
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