Why Dogs Over Marriage and Children? The Butt Hurt Trash Talk

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Dear “adults”, please listen to me for one minute. Technically speaking, I’m also an “adult”. My body and my birth certificate tell me that I am. Let me tell you why I refuse to entertain the thoughts of marriage and children.
A partner and a spouse… Huh! I simply refuse to inconvenience, burden, confuse, and complicate anyone’s life by my little wants and needs. I am always guilt-ridden and I am confused enough. To enter marriage means to share problems and letting another person help me. Nope. I refuse to be a problem for anyone. No one should stay up late, cry, pace, or worry over my being when I can very well do that by myself. I, in fact, excel in worrying and I am successful in it without burdening anyone. I refuse to be a burden, thank you very much.
Oh, I know you have other ideas. I get it. I really do. My concept of marriage, partnership, relationship, etc. is solely for me and only me. Some people really get to the happy-ever-after, my parents did and they still do, but my life has no space for forever. Boohoo! I sound so butt hurt. I just can’t picture the rest of my life with somebody “special” by my side. Oh, I know I’m going to be an old, bitter hag.
Can I tell you the thing about children? It’s not what you’re thinking. I don’t hate kids. I find them cute at times. What I am, in all honesty, is terrified of them but that is not the principal reason why I refuse to procreate (In my present state of mind. Who knows what’ll happen later?)
My dear adults, here’s what you should know about words and about children. It only takes ONE adult and ONE chance to tell a little child that he/she is “gago/gaga” (Foolish/Stupid), “bwisit” (Pain in the neck/ Annoying), “Utak tulingan” (Fish brain), or “Mahina” (Weak) for it to stay with a child for the rest of her life. Believe me, it stays. It stays, dugs deep, takes root, and it grows. Oh boy, it grows so terrifyingly beautiful!
I refuse to be the adult that will hurt my future self. I refuse to be an adult if it allows me to express my anger by putting down a child. I refuse to procreate just to turn that child into me. No, I refuse another me. If, and this is a big IF, I would have a child, I’d do EVERYTHING for him/her not to be me. The world doesn’t need another me. I pollute this earth enough. How dare I bring an innocent child into this world with my all my flawed personality? I am a flawed product, not by birth but by circumstances, unnoticed by people who refuse to hear what they have said to me.
Oh God, I sound so butt hurt but I’m really not. At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. I harbor no anger towards anyone, not anymore. I did grow up somehow and somewhere but I refuse to participate in society’s clamor for partnership and procreation. Go and flung your dirt somewhere else.
Why my dogs? Why not dogs? Now, I can worry and fuss over them without burdening anyone. This is selfish on my part but that doggie love right there on my foot, rubbing my leg, is the best unconditional love I’ve ever found. In the worst of my worst times, I am slobbered with affection, loyalty, and companionship. I am never alone and never lonely. Sure, time is limited but in that limited time, I receive full warm love without expecting anything in return… Except food and belly rubs. I receive no painful words, no neglects, no betrayal, and no resentment.
Make no mistake, I love my family very much and I would die for them but sometimes, sometimes words hurt and actions hurt which is also why I choose to stay silent most of the time. I speak only when I need to. I stay silent so I can’t hurt anyone with my flawed tongue. With dogs? I am yet to receive lifetime scars. All I get are good memories, warm hugs, and unending love.
Is it not human of me to be scared of pain and lessen it as much as I can? Trash talk, I know, but my birthday is fast approaching and I dread it like every year. In several days, I’ll be leaving the blissful 20s and God help me if I crave self- preservation more than anything. Yeah, that’s it. Good talk. Good talk.

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