LISTEN TO ARTICLESynthesized Narration • 0:00 / 0:00

I was the angry daughter my family talked about. The one that is short tempered and easily annoyed once pestered. In some instances, even only in the most minor cases, this bursts out like lava from the crater. This behaviour affected those people around me—bringing a negative atmosphere on otherwise bright days. Perhaps what I once used to call “home” was the reason for it all. My supposed “guiding light” failed to teach me how to handle it well. That anger inside of me became my shield—my protection against everyone who had the potential to hurt the hidden soft side of me. Dealing with problems through anger became a coping mechanism. However, behind that annoyance is where my guilt, tears, and frustration are hiding. Maybe I wasn’t really angry—perhaps some parts of me are just broken. That the heart beating inside my chest is just devastated by the absence of love. No one can put up with me when I am mad. I hated that I pushed so many people away as I used my silence to manage these feelings. I hated that I pushed them away after shouting at them when I still couldn’t process my emotions properly as when they were high. But, what I hated the most is that the softest side of me that was just hiding underneath it is what people failed to see—making my thoughts be filled with doubt whether I am even worthy of being loved. Except that once in a blue moon there he appeared. “No one loved the angry daughter,” as some say, but he proved them wrong. The screaming, silence, and impatience? He learned how to handle it. He studied body language of mine so that he could understand what emotion my silence was portraying. He chose to remain gentle and soft spoken since it was him who was consistent and saw the side of me my anger was covering. The broken but soft and sweet side of me was what I slowly learned to unfold around him. It is not only him that was just learning how to deal with it—but I was also learning with him too. He taught me, too, how to uncover and reveal what really is hiding beneath it. Suddenly, the spark inside was something he unintentionally ignited. I’ve never felt so bright and alive like this before. What I thought was dead did not stay dead. It was in his solace where I found myself again breathing and existing. This time, it is no longer out of anger—but out of love, patience, and understanding. Date nights became my escape temporarily from reality. Because, whenever I am with him, every problem just gets blurry. The physical touch I once hated as my household was never really affectionate with each other, It was there in his arms where I felt peace and comfort. The warmth I once hated is now what I seek every time I am with him. He was the first person to make me realize that I am worthy of being loved, too. His mother must’ve taught and raised him well—no, not just maybe…she really did. And somehow, someday, I hope people will understand it, too. I wasn’t always the short-tempered person they thought about—I was just made this way. By different kinds of pain of betrayal, disappointment, lies, and broken promises. The wounds I carried that remained unspoken and unhealed. His existence brightened the dark side of me. It was not due to my dependence on him—but it was through him where I finally found myself again.