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Last night was a complete disaster. After I walked out on Sam, I went straight home and packed with a vengeance. I was so angry—angry at Sam, at Ana, at the stupid beef stroganoff, at the stupid restaurant, at my stupid bed sheet that caught fire, at stupid everything.

Nino was kind enough to drive me back to my house in Quezon City. I took everything back, except the partly burnt bed sheet and the stupid shoe racks that stupid Sam bought for me. In my Incredible Hulk moment, I tore down the stupid wallpaper that we put up a stupid lifetime ago.

And so the prodigal daughter returned without a trace of maturity; with nothing to show for herself but more shoes and clothes that she didn't really need; with more emotional baggage than when she left to try to be independent. Of course my parents were happy to see me back home, but all the same, I felt that they were disappointed in me. After almost a year of living away from home, I accomplished nothing but the destruction of an expensive bed sheet.

Everyone was shocked when they found out about what happened, especially poor Jai, who could do nothing but type away his fury from the other side of the world, in New York. I was too hot-headed, irritated, highly illogical, and totally incapable of explaining everything. Later on, I learned that Nino relayed what he had learned from Sam to Charlie, who did the unfortunate job of explaining the entire story to my very angry and totally murderous circle of friends.

Two months after I left, Sam and Ana got back together. I didn't know how; I didn't know why; and honestly, I tried not to care. Nonetheless, Nino told me the shocking news via YM, a one-liner, plain and simple: Sam and the pig are back together.

I acted as if I didn't care. My friends respected my decision not to talk. They just let me be. But they were human—very biased and supportive. I learned that loyalty is a very fragile thing and that friendships are not measured by time. Eventually, everyone stopped talking to Sam. Even Nino, who was still working as his sous-chef at the time.

I continued to act like it wasn't a big deal, especially when I was around common friends. But when it was just me and my computer, I cried. Just like a fox, I broke down in secret. I was so depressed; more depressed than the time Matt stopped talking to me.

It was during this depressed stage of my life that I discovered the TV series Veronica Mars, starring Kristen Bell. I still didn't feel like partying because I felt beaten. Instead of drinking with the agency gang and Charlie, I went straight home from work and stayed up 'til the wee hours of the morning, engrossed in a VM marathon. I saw a big chunk of myself in the lead character. So big that I took the character's name, "Veronica," as my pseudonym for this blog.

"Combative, independent-thinking, smart-mouthed." Veronica Mars' mantra became my own. I felt like I had created a new facet in my personality. When the real "me" couldn't handle the strain of the things that were happening in my world, the weaker girl inside of me would retreat, and a whole new personality would emerge—the boots-wearing, Starbucks-sipping, beer-chugging, and tongue-lashing strong woman with a devil-may-care attitude. I aptly named her "Veronica." She rallied the crowd when the real me was too chicken shit to do the job.

I used to think every now and then that I had gone crazy. But looking back, I realized that it was normal for some people to develop some sort of alter ego. When things get crazy, we really need something or someone to face the frenzy. For a long time, Sam did the job. But he chose the pig. I had to improvise.

Because, if you think about it, everyone needs an alter ego.

Everyone needs a "Veronica."

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Related Blog Entries

• Moving Out
• Moving In
• Home With Sam
• Flashback: Sam's Arsty-Fartsy, Pre-Chef Days
• The Bedroom Blog Diaries: Establishing "Me Time"

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