Over my Dead Body

What is the inevitable truth of our lives on earth? For some people, thinking about this truth haunts them, leave them sleepless at nights or even send them to tears. For some, the existence of this truth causes their joy, their virtues, and their contentment. We all know that someday everything our eyes met and will meet will decay and vanish. This is the inevitable truth. Everything and everyone just turns into trash when their time arrives. I will become trash. I accept that truth-my fate. However, as long as I have a pulse, nobody can ever associate me with trash.

When I am associated with the word trash, it is the same as saying that I am worthless and immoral. Words such as foul, rotten, dirty, disliked, unwanted and unproductive also come to my senses. These will be easily acceptable, as I’ve said, if I am decaying ten feet below. However, at present, I am breathing and healthy so this word should be placed farthest from me.

The troop of words that is led by the word named trash will wound me deep and will leave me bleeding. The wounds will be painful and the scars will stay. Why such an effect for a word that is and will always be a sound used in language? It is not the word persé that hurts me but the chaos that it will bring to my character and personality that I have long formed through experiences, learning, discipline and decisions. It will hurt me because all my life, I have been living so that I will not even be a fingertip worthy of being associated with this word.

My parents are the greatest influence of my character. I can say that they did well in rearing me since I grew up to be responsible for my actions, independent and rational in decision-making. If I will be called trash, this will somehow reflect the rearing of my parents, or worse, my parents’ characters. This is absolutely unacceptable. If I am associated to trash, this means that my parents’ efforts formed trash, that my mother gave birth to trash, that they themselves are trash. This reason, more than anything else, explains my abhorrence to the word trash.

I had been called trash when I was in second year high school. I and a classmate planned a Christmas light display in my class’ assigned area. The next day, she was absent and when the rest of the class began the preparations, I made some adjustments in the plan because there were hindrances to the original plan. The next day, she saw that the original plan which she worked hard on was not followed and went mad immediately before me. Her anger led her to say that I am trash. It was really painful that I cried so much at school. She associated me to that word which never came near to who I am and the way I acted. I worked hard to be someone useful and productive just to be slapped by the word trash right in the face. It was really an awful experience.

I believe that there is always possibility in everything. Life is complex enough to breed possibilities. It is possible that I will be called trash again. It might be caused by a misunderstanding like my past experience. I am not perfect and can make mistakes that might lead to people disliking me and associating me to trash. However, this possibility will not be coming from a change of my character and personality but from circumstances taking place around me.

The possibility will have a less chance of occurring if proper communication will be done between me and the people around me so that misunderstanding will be avoided. I should also see to it that I will be sensitive in every action that I make so that other people will not be offended. I would also improve my character and make it stronger so that I will make myself as far away as possible from the chances to be called trash.

Call me trash a hundred times or even a thousand times. I don’t care a bit. Slap me with the word trash with all your energy. Even this, I do not care. Associate me with all the connotations of trash, all its synonyms and definitions, or in any language you know. I still will not care. But only do this when I am breathless, motionless, bloodless, lifeless. Do this as much as you want to when I remain as flesh in that coffin or when I rot underneath my epitaph. It is only in this case that I truly am trash. I become worthless, foul, and dirty. But for now that I am still moving and my flesh carries a soul, I will see to it that anybody will not have any reason to call me trash. Life is short to be lived like trash, to be just trash. There is so much time after earthly life-so much time to be called trash. I prefer that you save it by then.