Damned In Blue

Ah, it's been long overdue for me to write something about this topic for a long time. Treat it as a love letter dedicated to who I really am. In case you have kind and consoling words regarding the matter at hand, spare me from them. --- I am a loser. No shit. Always have, always will be. It all started when I was still in grade school. People picked up on me since I was not the one to retaliate or offer them a fist in their faces the minute they begin riling up on me. I was mostly the butt of their jokes, the one ridiculed, and nobody really cared if I was treated that way. I befriended one of my classmates around this time for a reason that I can never fully explain or explicate up until now. All he did was cause me torture and agony every time I was with him. One time, my childhood friend heard my classmate berate and cuss me at our home. I was used to the constant castigation my classmate dishes out, but it was the first time my childhood friend heard it. Suffice to say, he w...

People started calling me Benny in grade school. I refused the name simply because it's not part of my first name and is simply a derivation from my last name. However, I eventually relented since everybody started calling me Benny even without my approval. It reached to a point that they called me Benny the Ball (of Top Cat fame) and Benny the Bull (not only of the Chicago Bulls mascot, but also of Nelson Asaytono, the high-scoring power forward of the San Miguel Beermen in the PBA during the mid-'90s). The trend persevered in high school, since I attended the same school. By the time I was applying for a college, I thought of finally dropping the Benny moniker and start anew using my real name. And so, when college application forms ask for my nickname, I wrote my real nickname. However, I still wrote Benny beside my real nickname because, honestly, I have gotten quite acquainted with it. Still, if I were given a choice which name to use, I'll choose my nickname in a hear...

After realizing that I really didn't have anything to do this afternoon, I decided to clean my room after letting dust settle on my books, magazines, tables, and most of my stuff since the start of the year. I also disposed of the garbage I usually stick inside my drawers since it's been getting difficult opening and closing those damn compartments. Yep, I'm a disorganized mess. Wait, that's a double negative, which really makes me... Nevermind. Anyway, upon taking out 90% of the stuff inside my room, I stumbled upon my college class picture taken six years ago that I keep inside my drawer. I didn't really enjoy my academic experience, dating back since grade school, so there wasn't anything that would make me nostalgic or even emotional at the very least. However, what actually prevents me from throwing it away is that, along with the picture, there includes pieces of papers of what my blockmates thought about me. Our college holds dynamic orientations for fres...