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names

by A. Juan Mangubat

i think their eyes are following me,
every movement,
every gesture is scrutinized
and there they compare me to someone
greater than i.
they expect so much from me, and i
expect nothing from them.
they have already judged me before i
ever stepped into the light.
and now, they are forming their
own conclusions.
their decisions, their perspectives, vary
like the ever changing creases on my suit.
it is so random and sometimes so different.
i can see them, snickering, commenting, examining
me further.
they will gossip later over white champagne and
red wine, their little mouths clamoring to tell another
itching ear about some curious fact about me.
i hate them, i hate my name, i hate the expectations,
and i hate the burden of it all.
my name, a name recognized by all, scrutinized by all,
and judged by all.
it is a name that i have to wear, until the day of my last breath
when it shall no longer have a meaning whatsoever.
only the thought of my name shall last beyond me and be carried
over to some unwitting member of my beloved family.

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