I have questioned life several times before. Life is unfair. . . I would say that. I don’t know the reasons that your trials have to happen, your difficulties.    When I self-pity, I think I am the most oppressed in the world. I always thought there was no hope — nothing would ever change that.    Yes, I suffered a lot too. How many times have I wanted to give up on life? Losing my own memories is not as easy as what people think. There are tons of frustration I face every morning I wake up, hoping maybe the next time I’ll wake up remembering all of it.    But when I found out all that Cormac had been through, how could the man resist just to get to where he is now? I couldn’t imagine the experiences — I was suddenly embarrassed to complain.    I stood up as Cormac violently ran away. I immediately called him out, but the man ignored it. It runs even faster. “Cormac!” 

“Of course,” I said reluctantly and then explicitly messed up my hair. “Of course, you don’t really have anything to look for! What an excuse.”    After a few minutes of waiting for what the man would say after arriving in Batangas, I just gave up.     This is frustrating! I still thought there would be something, and I would know today.     “Cormac!”    The man frowned when he turned to me.     “Come on, Av. My legs are tired. We have a lot to go to on the first day of our itinerary. Av, you need to walk faster.”     Itinerary?    I was already left behind. Apparently I preferred to rebel, and I didn’t follow what Cormac was saying.    I will never move here until it tells me what Kuya Jac and I are hiding from me. Even if night or darkness overtakes me here, I swear to all god

“Avery? Dad!”For a few minutes no one spoke, even though the three of us were already in that room. Even though I was just looking at Kuya Jac and daddy, my heart was full of speculations.I can not believe what’s happening. I can’t. . . and will never accept these.In what ways was daddy involved in the murder of Cormac’s parents fifteen years ago?“Avery. . . ”“Please don’t act like this,” I said bluntly. “Please tell me I am imagining things!”Kuya Jac was the one I tried to face this time. Frustration was clear on his face. Fear of what I might say, do, and think. “What is this? Is this what you are hiding from me?”The words tangled at the tip of my tongue. I can’t seem to mutter a word.“Kuya, Daddy, what’s this? Why is it like this? How did it happen?!”I must be dreaming! My daddy w

The AFA 2020, or the Antonio Facundo Awards, is a competition for journalists like me. It is also usually open to writers and directors. Unlike usual, here we take a subject, someone who is very popular with people. . . we published to viewers how that person’s life was. We know the life of whoever is chosen just to win.    But after all those struggles on getting the right person for the documentary, I imprinted in my mind that I would be the winner. I promised I would do everything for the documentary, especially now that I have something I want to prove to the public.    That I am more than the murderer’s daughter they once called.    “Avery!” I confronted the woman who called me.. It was Ma’am Cassandra, running her way to me.     This boss of mine nearly cried because she said she missed me so much.    “The gem of the documentary!” It was as if this was