As a child, I’ve always wished to become invisible.
Back then, life was so much simpler. For starters, I knew what I wanted most in the world – flying, beauty, invisibility. The Big 3. I specifically wanted to fly Peter Pan-style, at will and with no wings; I found them to be awfully bothersome.
Yet half my brain’s already rational in that age, so I decided to stick with planes and parachutes instead. Beauty would be the simplest to achieve, I thought. Or so said my mother. But one gets to know it really takes so much more than just growing up. Still, it remained achievable.
I was almost completely happy with these knowledge until I pondered on how to achieve invisibility. In my young mind, the idea was already impossible.
And we know impossible dreams are the hardest to put to sleep.
Like every normal phenomenon, high school came. I still wasn’t able to achieve any of my dreams – the fastest transport I got myself into was a ship, not a plane; I look at the mirror and see not beauty but only me; I haven’t heard of any existing invisibility cloaks except in Harry Potter land.
Of course, other things happened, too. I got my first kiss, formed a few great friendships, made a boy cry through sheer brute, and got scholarships from three different universities.
But there wasn’t a single one of The Big 3.
Life goes on and I joined one university and picked a course I never really wanted because I was smart but stupid. Y’all know college, it’s just high school but you get to say and even do fuck a lot without landing yourself once in detention. I’m just making that up but it could be true.
Now really, what’s cool in that phase was that I got 2 out of my 3 big dreams: I traveled on a plane thrice (disappointing, actually. It’s much like a bus ride), and discovered people are incredibly great liars in college – well that or I could be somehow beautiful.
Those two are big things to someone who still dreams of flying some nights and who used to be an ugly duckling. Big, I tell you.
That P thing some people got in high school? No, not pain and poor self – esteem.
Yeah, well, I think I got it on that phase.
So Number 1-Flying, check. 2-Beauty, check. 3-Invisibility, dream on.
Worse, I thought I was at that point attracting the spotlight towards myself. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel about it, so I did nothing.
I also found myself involved with too many things – love, graduation, break-ups, job hunting, getting broke, partying, family feuds and reconciliations, rejection, job acceptance – you know the list.
Then I think I either really made it big, or I really screwed it up.
You see, I met a really good man. His name is John. Where could you go wrong with a John? It’s such a good name. One of Jesus’ apostles is a John. So was the previous pope. And not to mention Mr. John–ny Depp. See? Anyone that’s a John–ny couldn’t be anything bad.
So I married him.
Everything started like a fairytale – the wedding, the honeymoon (think of Little Mermaid, X-rated version), even the first two years. I felt like I’m living the ultimate dream. I felt like a star.
Then I got pregnant. Twins. I was stunned. I was overjoyed – our love bore fruit! I was depressed – I’m going to be a whale! But really, I think I was happy. I’m sure John was happy back then, too. People from everywhere congratulated us, even that supposed to be childhood neighbor I really could not remember. But things such as Facebook do exist, you know.
In short, I may have felt a sort of a star whilst in college, but that time? I’m a supernova, albeit a supernova with a super waistline.
And after nine months of whaling, I got to see my little angels. Really, I thought I was in heaven. Then we took the babies home. It was all so much fun if you consider not having enough sleep, getting out of the house increasingly less, not having enough time for yourself your sort of fun.
Bitching mother, yes I am.
Truth is I loved my two angels so much I’m fine with all that. I’ve passed on the “supernova” title to both of them anyway. They earned it from managing the seemingly impossible feat of squeezing themselves out of a hole the size of my vagina.
I’d love them more than all the Johns in the world, even. Even MY John. That’s not to say he would do the same, you know? I mean, I dunno if he really could love them babies more than me. That could only be true if he still loves me.
The fact is I don’t know. He doesn’t tell. He doesn’t show. He thinks I don’t know about Cynthia, or Katie, or Eva. The honest to fucking goodness is that I knew about them bitches for a long time now.
And I don’t think he knows that.
Well I prefer to believe that anyway than to think he does know but just couldn’t care.
Oh, and the twins are going to day-care next month. I’m going to have my hands fuller by that time. Yes, that’s really possible. I have to make several preparations for everything to work, yes. At least if not for me, then for them.
But it will work. Things do have their own way of working out if you ask me. Sometimes they even work out too well than how you wanted.
See, I just realized how I’m already living my third “impossible” dream.
I know I should have been more careful what to wish for.
But I wasn’t.
And at this time? The word could even decide to end, and I still wouldn’t care less.