Hey lemons – fuck you.

“When life gives you lemons, just say ‘Fuck the lemons,’ and bail.” – I fucking love this. Paul Rudd said this in Forgetting Sarah Marshall on a surf board, talking to this always-depressed-looking-actor-I-know-of-but-dare-not-Google-his-name-for-the-sake-of-saving-myself-from-embarrassment…. –self-embarrassment (deal with it).

It’s probably because I always find myself bailing out countless times. Fuck challenges. I hate them. I am too lazy to handle those things. I am more of a, “yeah… imma let this one pass” type of person and I like it. When I feel like things are about take a turn for the worse I withdraw myself almost immediately. I don’t even care about the whole situation – I just do it. When the consequences arrive I think of the stupidest ways to forget or get away with it, and more often, it hurts a lot of people. Like the really important ones. But let a day pass or two (or even sooner), I forget about the whole thing. I have this incredible superpower of getting over and moving on real quick. I’m a maniac.

My mom always told me I am heartless. My dad believes otherwise. To him, I am the sweetest, most fragile girl. To mom, I am the girl without any emotion at all – cold as dry ice. I remember one time mom told me she’d rather not be with me because she feels like there’s nobody around anyway. She likes the fact that I’m fascinated with books and find contentment in our house reading or writing. But at the same time she loathes it because I don’t talk much… at least around her anyway. With dad, there are a lot of things to talk about – he is the smartest man I know. I swear I could listen to him the whole day. I’m not saying that I hate my mom. In fact, it is safe to say that we’re pretty close. She would go with me on gigs unminding the noise, smoke, sweat, puke, and occasional blood in the rowdy bars I once frequented. Yes, I am a home buddy – but I am in a band (was once anyway) and the only time I let myself out into the blasted streets around sweaty motherfuckers is during band rehearsals and gigs. But mom and I, we’re not in the same wavelength, you know. I took to dad more often than not, and maybe that’s why I am what I am today.

Getting back to the “lemons”, I bail because I don’t like the commotion and the stress of handling it. You see, I am toughie and a weakling at the same time. I don’t cry a lot, not because I don’t want people to see me as a sissy, but because I am too lazy to do it. Crying is a bitch, seriously. Not the kind of cry girls make while watching The Notebook. I am talking about the kind of cry where you can’t fucking stop no matter how hard you try to. The kind that that makes that awful sobbing sound it confuses the shit out of you that you’re actually capable of making that nonhuman noise. The one where your chest aches too much it’s as if your heart is being ripped out; it drains you out completely you can’t fucking move and no matter how hard you try to be still to regain the strength you lost, your body betrays you. That kind of crying is a bad bitch.

My dad, he is a silent man. He doesn’t believe in aggressive reactions whatsoever. When life gives him lemons, he bails. He bails so he could think, maybe find answers. If not, maybe just so he can carry on with his life without us seeing him in pain, or in anger. I sometimes think he is depressed, but I dare not know the truth for fear it might be true. I am scared one of these days he’ll wallow into depression and just completely lose it, you know? I hope that all the smarts he’s got will save him, I need him to because I can’t right now. I live far away and I just can’t go back home out of whim. I am broke as fuck and living off in a minimum-wage salary. I have that job that I truly love with a salary I truly hate. Some of you here might be really familiar with this.

This bailing habit clearly I got from dad. It is both a blessing and a curse. It is easy to misinterpret bailing as an act of cowardice, but to us, the “fuck the lemons” kind of people, it is the best way to avoid doing something regrettable in the future. You know what they say about silent people, how they run deep and all, I think that shit’s true. It is easy to be violent, you know, but we’d rather not resort to it. That’s what separates or stops us from becoming psychopaths, full-on criminals without conscience because why not. We can easily bail, not minding the pain we caused. I am not gonna disclose now all the shit I thought of doing to people who caused to me to fucking bail, because it scares the shit outta me.

Maybe, you are just like me, or you know a “fuck the lemons” guy. The whole thing I wrote might shed light or confuse you otherwise. I don’t know. I don’t care. But if you’re reading this, thanks. For now, I’m bailing.