Family Untied

Miguel's pace was getting slower, he was trying to figure out what to do with his life. The Aztec-inspired carpet was getting all the damage from his walk around the room.


With a last round of walk across the corners of his room, he sat at the edge of his bed and held the family portrait at the headboard. In an instant, he was transported to when the shot was taken - he could still remember how their smiles were genuine and real - not the way they act towards each other now; civil, too civil to even become personal again.


There were times when one would initiate a small talk just to see where it goes from there but it just was not possible. Small talks are non-existent, more so venting out. He did try though, once. It was when he thought it would be perfect time to come out of the closet and stay out. For weeks he thought of everything; from words to say, rebuttals to speak, phrases to provide and emotions to convey.


Euphemism - the art of substituting unpleasant words into more agreeable, less disdainful ones. Learning even applying this would be beneficial yet, it could back-fire dramatically.


He was recollecting of what he might actually utter in front of his parents knowing how narrow-minded they are when it comes to sex, sexuality and everything sex-related. Most importantly homosexuality.


You know that feeling when you already explained your side and every information they need to know? That feeling when you already told them that it will never happen or it will never be like that? That same feeling you clearly emphasized that your lifestyle will never be a part of their lifestyle because you know it would be too awkward and too humiliating for them? Exactly just like that.


Miguel persevered with an open mind, he was actually feeling a lot better for he knows that he will be able to speak what he really wanted to say, even if the risks outweigh, far outweigh being saved from judgment and discrimination.


Until the day finally arrived for him to face his strongest opponent, cowardice. He remembered it very clearly: it was a weekend, the parents were relaxed and comfortable, his Mom watching an HBO movie and his Dad cooking lunch for the whole family, shrimp tempura, Miguel's favorite dish. He already set out the place mats, plates, cutleries and glasses according to their places, but before calling them all out, he decided to have the talk, the I-Know-What-You -Did-Last-Summer kind of talk.


And they never talked about it since then nor is he talking to his Dad anymore. That was enough blow for him to curse reality. For months, he felt anhedonia.


As Miguel held tightly the family portrait of their former self, a tear ran down from his cheek, perhaps he really did miss the good old days when hopes and dreams were far yet reachable. He placed it back on the headboard and stood up and walked at a slow pace again.


He was rubbing his chin, a stubble was already growing and he needed to trim it down but now is not the time. He was out of optimism, he never did become a positive-thinker. He tried to but somehow he just could not quite get how Mary Sunshine jumped for joy and tell the world it is a beautiful place even if it is the exact opposite.


Armageddon. Miguel always thought of it as that, he sees the world as something that would go ka-boom! in an instant and all people would go ka-put...


Thinking of the cliche 'desperate times call for desperate measures', he was thinking of only one thing that time. Suicide. Sure, it is an escape, an alibi albeit an irrational one but for him that was his only option. So, what has a guy got to do to deal with it? That is where his brain-storming comes in.


"But come to think of it, I already had suicidal ideations at the age of ten when Dad and Mom would argue at the middle of the night for some stupid reasons." Miguel told himself while thinking of how to end life.


Funny how humans seem to devise plans that are too far-fetched and too outrageous to even begin with but somehow one way or another, someone manages to do just that. And he was not kidding to begin with.


He was now plucking those irritating tiny shafts of hair under his chin while thinking of his next move.


When suicide is inevitable, one must pass away beautifully as if on a journey.


Option 1: Gun shot - however there are three problems with this way. One, he does not own a gun nor any one in the house. Two, he does not want it to be so loud and guns give out a heart attack inducing bang! And three, he would totally look so disgusting and wasted after shooting himself. This is out of the options. Scratch.


Option 2: Old school tying of the rope to a horizontal wooden plank - immediately he saw that this is also not an option because first and foremost, it is so passe, barbaric, ancient even. He dismissed the idea as fast as he thought of it. Scratch.


Option 3: Drugs - ah the inevitable use of Science to alleviate suffering. A good choice, a good choice indeed. But a question arose, what type of medications? He could opt for dozens of types and kinds and strengths. Anti-depressants? Anti-anxieties? Steroids? Anti-histamines? Uppers? Downers? Narcotics? Potassium Chloride?


Miguel, smiled devilishly as if he was absolutely ready to put his plan into action...very soon.




Part 5