Katipunan II

Happy endings are so passé. It was rather unattainable. As I thought, there would be not any happy ending for us, because we will last forever. But then, I realized that the last clause of the sentence should be simply cut off. It's not real. It's not forever. It's not a happy ending either. We're not gonna end up together.

5.42 PM

There's just too much people on a Friday afternoon at the Faculty Center waiting shed. I decided to take a seat on one of those green slabs since I won't get in any jeepney just yet anyway. There's just too much people.

It's been almost two months from now after we broke up. Yes, that odd girl from Spanish 11 of first year, we broke up. I thought we'd be happy together, viewing the entirety of Katipunan avenue on that blue Ateneo footbridge, holding our hands forever, sitting beside each other, simply listening to what's around us. But it was just a realized pipe dream. Those happy memories of time long gone just haunt me, like how it scares me to death to see a dead cat on the roadside or how it almost broke me to lose my wallet on my first Lantern Parade when I had just got my seven-thousand peso Christmas money from Dad. It's all gone and lifeless.

Should I even think that it broke my heart? From that morning she called me on the phone to tell me that she wanted to break up with me, I have never been so unstable as before. It's when everytime someone leaves you, you just get lost all of a sudden. Equilibrium lost me, too. I didn't know what I was thinking then, really. I was doing silly things like throwing my phone on the garbage container even if she had not hung up the call yet, crossing the road without even looking out for speeding cars, and accidentally breaking my eyeglasses when I was hurriedly running to class and I hit it badly on the corridor wall. Wearing contact lenses now just adds up to my carelessness problems, since I often doze off without any clue. I suppose it wasn't being bitter. Perhaps it's from being shocked instead, that even for the last person that I would want to love would still leave me hanging in this world by myself.

6.04 PM

Daylight flees to give way to the other celestial illuminants, and I'm still here sitting in the ugly green slab waiting for the people to go off. I know that I should've walked to the terminal near Benitez Hall instead, but I'm just too tired and at least I could rest my feet for a little while. Besides, it reminds me of our strolls and those other memories that I had junked into the garbage can along with my cell phone, that I just wanna have in my hand again, scroll to the never-erased messages and cherish the events I had marked in its calendar, and stare into the gallery's photographs and remember those days. Sometimes, I regret it. But maybe it's just what it should be.

Okay. So I might just have exaggerated it. Ever since that incident I had never been to Katipunan Avenue ever again, nor rode that red-roofed jeepney. So under the banner of moving on for a cause, I decided to go to Katipunan to spend the whole weekend at my best friend's place. I'm not so sure if I had actually moved on. Yes, I'm getting my life back from being disoriented. It's roughly eight weeks, and a lot of things had already happened. There's nothing to look back. There must be nothing to worry about. It's not like I cried over spilled milk. Tears have dried even before they came out. It's over. We were over.

6.07 PM

The jeepney is surprisingly spacious on a Friday dusk. I feel very tired that I just want to sleep, but ever since I was independent in going places, I've been always bad at sleeping while on a trip. If I attempt to sleep at this very moment, I might just repeat what I did when I was in third year high school that the driver even have to wake me up at the terminal, which was, by the way, too far from our house. Good thing I'm listening to music from my iPod. By paying attention to the music I can kill the drowsiness and let it die away.

Two months isn't that long anyway. It still feels like the usual Katipunan ride that I always take every Sunday to eat out or to go the Cubao or Marikina. It's still the usual thing where it's too seldom to see anyone I know. It's nothing new. It's - Wait. Is that her? She sure became prettier. We practically tried to avoid each other somehow and now she seems to be running to this jeepney. Oh no. Man, no. Okay. She successfully got in, and I can't hide. There's no way I can hide even just my face. Oh great. She sat beside me. How fated was that.

So what's it that I'm gonna do now? All of a sudden I feel like a dork. I let her break6 up with me without even listening to what else she was about to say in that call, particularly the reason why she broke up with me. I feel so stupid for eliminating contact with her even if it might appear to be alright anyway. I can see globules of sweat over my arms and I can feel the butterflies in my stomach. This is all so crazy. Damn, it feels like what Miley Cyrus "felt" in Party in the U.S.A.

6.12 PM

"Oh, it's you," she says, finally noticing me after a few moments of my sweating from anxiety. "Oh, yeah," I reply, finally looking at her face too, but just in a short glance. "It's been a long time since, isn't it?" She tells me. Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. "I'm sorry," she says some more. How come she tells me what I'm about to tell her? "Sorry for what?" I ask, acting like I had totally moved on and forgot that even for some four months we were together. Yeah, that was actually short to remember much of but I definitely know what a lie it would be. "For that call," she then replies, holding my hand that restlessly lies above my left knee. I turned my head back at her. W-why? I wanted to ask her why but I no sounds come out of my mouth, and instead I just gaze at her face, seemingly looking for the answers that obviously were not there.

"Forget it," I crack out, even though I really want to know her own reasons. "Yeah, I guess so," she agrees, and finally I see her smile again, that smile that for a lot of nights I've been missing so much when I'm lying in my bed reminiscing about the past, about our happy yet short memories, or that for some times in class I look out the open AS door and gaze at the sky that's peeking through the trees that reaches out to it amidst their constant fall of leaves. "So where're you heading?" I ask, trying to change the mood that we immersed ourselves into. "I'm going to Manila," she replies, "to a friend's party." I simply nod at what she had just said. I did not listen at all. Or I am unable to, since beside the jeepney is a speeding truck that distracts me from paying attention to her voice, the voice that even in the shower I thought calls me, the voice that even talks to me in my sleep when I'm in the Main Library - General Reference Section just after I send the crammed term paper of 6 sleepless hours to my professor's Gmail account.

6.25 PM

It's a Friday evening and we all know how Katipunan becomes a depressed sink hole of cars every now and then. And now I'm beside her again, and I deeply pray that this jeepney would run slower than everyone else, just so I could savor this moment, the only moment that's happening, which may not happen to us ever again.

I catch her staring at me. "What?" I ask, thinking if she was waiting an answer from me to an unheard question. "You seem to be so bothered," she says, without any other extra feat, just her lips artistically opening and closing at certain lengths. "Sorry," I apologized, "I guess I wasn't paying that much attention to anything."

6.38 PM

The slow flow of traffic is really getting to my nerves. I feel very uneasy right now, especially that I'm beside the woman I loved, and lost. For a long while there was no questions, no remarks, no voices. It becomes awkward around here as the minutes go by.

"It gets awkward, huh?" she says - how come she knows what I was exactly thinking? "Uh," I reply, "yeah. It does seems like." Then she smiled as I looked at her for a bit. Then her smile made me smile. Then my smile made her do a little laugh. Then it made me laugh a little too. Funny, as it is, that it becomes a game without us noticing it.

6.40 PM

"Hey," I call to her, "I wanna know why." "What why?" she replies, and I laugh. "Why you broke up," I say. "I thought you just want to forget about it," she says, and that reply just seemed to be silly to me. Or it made me feel like I'm silly. Of course I told her that we'll forget that. Of course I'm moving on, forgetting that myself, and that's why I'm hanging out with my best friend instead, finally after a lot of busy weeks that we had. Of course, what am I even thinking?

In a little while I'll be going down this jeepney and I might never see her face as close as this again. This might be the last time that I would fall for her, for the smile and the eyes and that sweet little face that I had missed for so long. Maybe it must all boil down to something. Maybe the feeling really should fade away. And maybe we don't have to stick together too just like what we usually do. Maybe this is just the way it is.

6.42 PM

"I'm leaving you now," I tell her, as I already see the blue Ateneo footbridge and the other establishments around, "someone's waiting for me." She smiled, as I expected. I pulled the string on the ceiling of the jeepney to signal the driver to hit the brake. "Goodbye," I say. Before I could even raise my body to move out of the vehicle, I'm very sure that I heard her say "I miss you so much." I know. I must know that. I missed her too. And I probably will miss her still.

Katipunan.

It was past eight in the dark and the sidewalk crowd rushed against me. I was trying to be careful not to drop the chocolate sundae I bought from Mini Stop and the people were making an effort to be careful too, this time to make sure they make it on the LRT immediately. Sometimes it feels like the world is conniving, that it's time to go home. So I did. And I hate to cross the street. Really. Vehicles just wouldn't bother; they don't see anything anyway.

The jeepney terminal was death in silence. I dug out seven peso coins from my back pocket, where I usually just drop coins and other small stuff. Then as I enter I realized that there weren't that much people at all. There were just five of us in the inert vehicle. I sat on the corner by the exit, which was my favorite spot since I don't have to bother myself attempting to reach the handles above and I can rest my back either on the sides or where it normally should be. The others were normally sitting, quite impatiently waiting for the jeep to go off, except for one who was lying down on the far end. It seems like he's no passenger at all. As usual I was minding my own business again. I finished helping myself with that damn chocolate sundae, which was rapidly dripping, faster than I could eat it. And while eating it I had to move up my glasses back in place again for a lot of times. As I keep the tissue in my pocket, someone called me and sat beside me. "Oh hey," I said back, "Where're you heading?"

It was that girl who always sat in front of me in Spanish 11 when I was in first year, second semester. She was the girl I had a crush on and I humiliated myself on that year's Valentine's Day confessing my love to her. As I think of it now, it was rather the stupidest mistake I ever made.

"I don't know," she replied, "I just feel like riding anywhere." She smiled at me. I didn't know what she was really up to, but it was indeed strange. "Cool," I said. Then I bowed my head and looked down. I noticed that she wasn't moving away her head from looking at me. It has been three years, and now, as I was thinking in my head, is she trying to seduce me? I felt her touching my chin, then I slightly shivered. I looked back at her. "What is it?" I asked. She just smiled. What was that? I wasn't raised to interpret her body language. It sure was strange. "How about I sleep over at your place tonight?" she asked. "That can't be," I said, "I'm a dormer." "Then stay over at my place then," she said with another smile. I could not understand. What was she up to, really? Seeing that I was drowned in my deepest thoughts again, she uttered some more. "Come on, stay over," she said, "Because I feel too lonely."

With her words I felt the same loneliness that she was talking about. After she released those meaningful sounds that my mind interpreted as 'because I feel too lonely,' I answered her, "For how long do you want me to stay over?" and she replied, "As long as you wanted to." The engine started since the seats were already filled, and she and I just looked at each other in the dim lights of the interior as the jeepney cruised the avenue. "Then for how long will you keep staring at me in the face?" I asked, somehow being naughty, but I never expected her reply: "Forever." I felt my eyes grew large a bit as she said that word. It felt like a joke, but then it felt like a trick, a trap, something weird, something bad.

I moved my stare away from her. She moved her hand over mine. I didn't know what to do. So I just smiled. I made sure she saw that. She placed her other hand over my glasses to remove it. "Carefully, please," I said. "You look better that way," she commented. "What are you up to?" I asked her. But she did not listen. Instead, she moved her head back and looked outside the window. The breeze sweeps her straight soft hair towards me. "We're here," she said as she slightly raised her hip to pull down the string that will stop the vehicle.

"What are you exactly doing?" I asked, somehow pissed off by this lovely strangeness of her pulling me up the blue Ateneo footbridge and doing all the other things tonight on me. But still I made sure to create an impression that I was already angry. I noticed that she clenched my eyeglasses a little bit harder. I noticed that she was also a bit taller than me too, which made it a lot weirder when she held my face with her both hands. Then she kissed me. Then she moved back. "You're blushing too much," she said. I should have known, I'm almost white-skinned and I get drunk red so easily. But I got so carried away that I haven't felt the blood rushing rapidly within me. I took hold of her jaw and kissed her again. It felt like time stopped and for a while I thought I lost my hearing. I had not realized that she accidentally dropped my eyeglasses, because, at that time, that kiss was what only mattered.

She pushed my head back, and apologized. "You can go home now," she told me, as she picked my eyeglasses from the cement floor, and fortunately it was not broken. "But why this all of a sudden?" I asked, as I wore the glasses again.. She said that she'll walk me home. "What about you?" I said. She just looked at me for a while. "What are you thinking?" I asked again. I didn't mind asking another question after an unanswered one. "You don't want to know that," she said. "Why do you want me to stay with you?" I asked, once more. By the way she looked it seemed to be inexplicable. "Remember the time you told me you love me?" she asked me. "Yeah, of course," I replied, "You practically humiliated me in the face of the whole CAL lobby." She looked at me again, straight into my eyes. I somehow felt a strange kind of attachment to her whenever we look at each other. It was different, peculiar. It was - "wanted you since then," - wait a minute. "What? What did you just say?" I said, because I haven't heard what she fully said. She said she wanted me. For real? "I said, I wanted you since then," she repeated, "but we haven't seen each other in a long while so I somehow forgot about it myself." I felt my blood rushing again all over my body. She is one too peculiar.

As she spoke to me those words I felt her loneliness again. I realized that I was also lonely all this time, and by being together maybe we could fight it off. I held her hand and we sat in the middle of the footbridge, and gazed at the sky, at the road, at each other. Everything seemed to be silent. And this silence had been the best of all.

*Because it wasn't included in Salidsid, the Sinag-CSSP literary folio, I can now post this entry freely. :)

Ignorance and Displacement.

It's odd and annoying at the same time.

It feels like the world is in a conspiracy.

I again for some thought do not know who my real friends are, who they could be, and why they just don't seem so.

I don't know why friends should be called friends when they just disappear at times you need them, dump you after they used you, leave you hanging without a clue. I don't know how friends can take that but hell, I'm too tired of listening to others without anyone listening to me. I'm tired of attitudes, egos, pride. I wanna vomit all the lies they have to make just not to make it look bad but still I know what a lie it was and how awful they really are. I'm sick of self-appraisal, false cares, irrational thinking, superrational thinking, indestructible worldviews, closed-mindedness.

[My. Shut the mouths of those nerds! Irritating.]

I wouldn't want to care anymore.

Getting it all back.

Finally, it's March. The past few months were abusively spent on almost sleepless weeks of horrible tasks and studying. I lost time for myself. Rather, it was a struggle for survival, not necessarily for me, but for accomplishing responsibilities and maintaining a desirable academic grade. I kinda lost time for my own self, my own interests, and the things that really pleases me. I was busy facing the laptop screen creating publicity materials and identification cards, kept myself in my room (which is better as I found out) rewriting notes and highlighting my Economics book, drowning myself in a rush of thoughts and battle of concepts, attending org activities, occasionally cutting classes, little visits to the library, walking here and there, shouting at friends, getting irritated by everyone's attitudes, panicking from time to time, rushing every work to be done, stealing few hours for sleep (and in class too), and eating and spending too much. Even eating and sleeping aren't leisure stuff anymore. They became tasks to be done for survival. Everything I did then was all for survival. Leisure seemed to be too expensive: I cannot afford it, along with the lineup of tasks that await me.

There floated in front of me a high opportunity cost of substituting work for leisure. Risks await me for every action that I do. It's like taking a journey on an upward-sloping (supply curve?) pavement filled with vines that would easily trap me and make me immobile. Assessing myself, I seem to be vulnerable to all pressures, yet I seem to be strong enough to outlive them.

Damn. A lot of challenges have already passed and a lot more are coming in. But I want to get a grip of my life first. I should steer, not row!

If it's not gonna work,

Let me know.

Let me know how failing we are.

Let me know all the trouble that I had caused you.

Let me know that you don't want me anymore.

Let me know how stupid I am.

Let me know that I am a jerk.

Let me know how much you used to love me.

Let me know how much you hate me.

Let me know that it's gonna linger forever.

Let me know that you never wanted to see me again.

Let me know that you loathe me.

Let me know.

It's totally okay.

My life is full of pain anyway, so why not add up to it?

All I See are Lines and Curves.

I woke up to the ringing of the phone. Mom. Alarm.

Yeah, I’ll get up to bed, I said. I did not.

I was staring at the ceiling, gazing at the lines.

Lines and curves that haunt me.

I got out of bed and dragged myself into the shower.

Someone played such an awful song.

I hurried to go out of the cubicle.

My general instruction was not to let these examinations ruin my day. Never.

I tried to open the book.

In a very little time, law of diminishing returns might tell me that it’s not good to study now.

More inputs, less outputs.

I went to school, walking against the stream of joggers in the human-car avenue.

I managed to avoid externalities. I managed to be just calm.

I read a bit again. Review. Or so I called it.

Walk in, walk in, they said. Walk in.

The room was rather too bright. Too peaceful.

In the middle of staring at the empty questions my eyes closed.

It wasn’t that hard, isn’t it, a colleague remarked.

Yeah, right, I said. Really.

Next one’s gonna come, I remembered.

I’m not ready.

I haven’t read anything good.

I haven’t tried to understand.

It was rather a big pain.

A big pain it was.

Migraine invaded me.

The calm look of before started to be terrorized by worry-lines.

I haven’t prepared for the curves.

Lunch.

We walked for lunch. Real lunch.

By the time we came back, there was no more time.

Scans, scans, scans.

I thought I need more time.

I realized I needed divine intervention.

It was time.

Walk in, walk in.

Once inside, abandon all hope.

The resonant trembling in my head paralyzed me in the chair.

It was rather not for thinking, but for dying.

Answer sheets. Questionnaires.

The cold air seemed to wage war with my awkward heat.

Fuck, what was that? How come I forgot to read this part before?

Firms. Competition.

Marginal. Fixed. Average.

Cost. Revenue.

My inside self went on searching.

Answers. Ideas. Correct ones.

There were hardly any.

I just wanted to explode into small pieces.

Oh how lovely.

Two hours passed and I was more awkward.

As awkward as ever.

The proctor playfully went to and fro the room.

He seemed to be entertained by our answer sheets.

I was trying to give him my don’t-try-to-look-at-me-or-even-go-near aura.

It failed.

Of course, I can’t cast it to him with my eyes.

I’m too busy trying to understand how things work.

Two and half hours.

I was dying to go out of the room.

It was rather hell.

Ten minutes before third hour.

I stood up. Gave my papers.

I wanted to show him my awesome get-off-me stare.

But I attempted to be as calm as ever.

I went out.

How I dreamed of banging the door.

How I wish I could just blame the proctor.

But I can never do that.

The marginal utility might not justify the marginal utility.

For quite a long while I have been so much of a lazy irresponsible person. It started this December, glorified itself during the holiday break, and kills me this January when the classes just came back.

Holiday break of Christmas and New Year's Day was all sleep, eating, and if not hours in the malls it'd be hours on the bed, either eyes open in front of a laptop playing the Sims 3 or in a vain attempt to log on to the internet or asleep and will then wake up with hands freaking out of only God knows what.

I had a lot of things to do then (that was extended until now). I don't know what to start. My whole body is painful everyday. I feel tired and sleepy everyday. How could I even do better with this? Argh.

I guess I just wanted to be a little bit romantic.

I had this self-proclaimed Abolition of Lovelife Week. I don't know exactly why I did this on purpose, I mean, I think I don't have to. Or maybe it is just the aftermath of a week-long anger mode.

But then again, as this week ended, I realized that I wanted to fall in love - well, again, for this matter. I'm not so sure if I wanted to be hurt or something. I just wanted to.

Maybe it's some sort of searching for a lighter mode, especially after cloaking myself into a dark cloth of angst, a wage of war against everything.

This is totally weird.

I'm not liking any girls again, not yet.

I think I'm way too picky, or something. I always had problems with other people's attitudes, and maybe that's the way I should be. I have my own and I just don't reach an equilibrium point with others. Oh please.

I'm kinda crushing on this friend of mine that I've been seeing in slow pulses. Surprisingly, she's mature and fine - but only when we're alone together. In the presence of others, her childish side can at every way be irritating. (And I hate children, remember?) So maybe I just have to wait.

But I feel like I've been left behind. People I know are slowly having partners (which I know will leave you, let's see) and I'm left in this solitary world bitter in life and filled with dying hope. God, why can't I just simply fall in love?

In the darkness of the dawn.

I was born, seventeen years ago, in a white room. I came out of my mother's womb fully naked, wet in blood. I was born without speech, except for some wails that I have no idea of what it was or what it was for. I was born without the proper thinking, careless, carefree. I was born, taken out from in between my mother's legs, a time of great pain.

Now I am seventeen, and no matter how bright things appear, darkness surrounds me. Now I am fully clothed, barely wet. Now I can speak three or four languages, always in the best attempt to understand what I was listening or saying. Now I can ponder, though anxious, insecure. Now I'm searching what was between one's legs, a time of great pleasure.

Why don't you know?

I have this hateful feeling. I feel it everytime this certain person comes around. Right now we won't speak to each other. I wouldn't even care turning my head to see you. I wouldn't even try to open my mouth and say a word to you. I wouldn't care batting an eyelash on your new shirt. I wouldn't care.

It's just that I couldn't help hiding in my room crying.

I feel like I'm such a big dork.

I am. I hate being that.

IT just ain't me. Or it's not what I wanted myself to be.

I hate it.

I hate your eyes. I hate your hair. I hate your lips. I hate your cheeks - your cratered cheeks, remember. I hate you ears. I hate your neck, and the necklace you wear it with. I hate you, I guess.

But that doesn't mean that I'm over you. I do wish I was. Sometimes I think I am. But everytime I tell myself I'm over you I become more convinced that I'm not.

We're not friends. Who were you fooling, then? How come you can still say we were? There's no us. There's no friendship.

Nothing. Not anymore.

I know you know that I keep on screwing it up. But I wish you realized that you're not the world. I realized that earlier on the way. You're not the world. If something is discouraging, it is. I as a friend wouldn't care turning a discouragement into its opposite. Life isn't that way. I'm grown with that fact. You made me believe it.

Thank you for not caring. That's just all I needed to counteract what I wanted. I may keep on wanting you to care about me but it's not it. It won't be real. It won't matter.

Perhaps as to others I may say 'later', with you I'd be glad to say 'goodbye'.

Let's go home.

It's Thursday noon.
I have to go to Pasig tomorrow. (Oh no!)
By Saturday I'll be HOME.
But then I might be idle, for sometime.
And I just do hope that my plans and wishes may come true. I do.

Mutual II

He stares at his face - as they both lay beside each other, filling the bed that was neither big for one nor small for two. It's dawn. He woke up because he felt the numbing of his arm, to where the other man lays his head. Josh must be glad, then. The feeling is mutual.

It already happened before; it can't happen once more. Eric, still asleep, draws away his hand from Josh's. Josh had lost his sleep, his silent slumber. This feeling intoxicates him more, more than what it was before. And in the silence he remembers.

"Why'd you move your hand away?" Eric asked Josh as he grabbed back his hand. Josh just smiled and kissed Eric.

"Will you love me?" Eric asked Josh. Silence fell. Josh wanted to say 'yes' but something holds him back. "Because I do," Eric continued, "We'll take long walks together, holding each other's hands, and in the lamplight we'll stare at each other's eyes, letting our heartbeats make the music."

Josh fixed his glance at Eric. Eric's eyes were too difficult to decipher. All Josh knew was that he savored that very moment, where every motion felt to be so right, that nothing can take them away from each other, that no society can misjudge their relationship and them as individuals.

He plays Eric's hair, exploring his head wishing to uncover the mysteries that lie with its thoughts. Josh's fingers travel across his face, his left ear, his nose, his lips. Josh nears his own head, slowly and carefully. Then he locks his lips to Eric's.

It was like Sleeping Beauty, though it only was the opposite of it. Eric wakes up, eagerly avoids Josh's lips. The kisser is astonished, confused.

"Get off!" Eric commands while grabbing his own clothes from the floor.

"You told me you love me and now you don't!" Josh excalims, "What now, Eric? What's wrong??"

"This," Eric says as he gets up, "is wrong! What will they think of you?"

"That, the society?" Josh says, "Ha! Nonsense! You freed me from the entrapment!"

"I don't love you anymore!" Eric says, "How many times will you need to absorb that?"

BANG. Josh buries his face, in his blooded hands, sobbing.

In two weeks.

I'll be home in two weeks' time. Yey for that!

Oh I just can't wait any longer to go home.

But first, I'd tell you about what happened in the last two weeks.

27 September, Sunday - It was Joshua John Bautista's birthday, and I forgot to greet him. Typhoon Ondoy (international name Ketsana) wrecked Metropolitan Manila and some parts in Luzon since the day before. Floods everywhere were knee-high, chest-high, two-storeys high. It was a very devastated scenario, with billions of pesos worth in damages. This day I went to the mall (it was sunny, and it was as if the roads weren't flooded) and just went there. I can't remember if I bought something specific (apparently, I'm writing this entire post today). I was pissed off. Well, someone pissed me off. And I was dumped. Totally. But the piss-off part went away, though. It seems that when you finally let it out of your chest, you can finally let it go away.

28 September, Monday - It was my sister's birthday, and she's now 24 years old. Wow. Classes were suspended for what - a week! Heaven heaven, eh? It was also Collen Faye Puspus' birthday. She's now 17.

29 September, Tuesday - I could not remember. Oh, I just did. It was Ranel Irvin Toledo's 18th birthday. He treated us (his barkada with me along) at Yellowcab Pizzeria at U.P.-AyalaLand TechnoHub. Then we had more fun time at Timezone. It was totally fun, superb. Really.

30 September, Wednesday - It was Archie Jerome Maramag and Conrad Miguel Gozalo's birthday. There. As if they treated me. Not. Haha.

01October, Thursday - The wood supporting my bed got broken. This day we went to the Church of the Risen Lord to volunteer for the victims of typhoon Ondoy. It was spearheaded by the University Student Council and Sagip Isko. I was with Ranel Irvin Toledo, Colleen Faye Puspus, and Eladio Anino V. When we got there, we were instructed to go to the Barangay Hall of Barangay U.P. Campus, then we were blown away to Barangay Bagong Silangan, Quezon City to survey the affected communities. There we walked for miles - okay, maybe some kilometers only. We have seen the affected communities and have heard their stories. The scenario was heartbreaking, and highly alarming. We walked on burak (mud mixed with trash) and went to the boundary of Quezon City and San Mateo, Rizal. It was too far to say. When we reached back at the dorm, we were already dead-tired and craving for Jollibee. Then we remembered that it was Mary Rose Johana Samas' 18th birthday when she went down and gave us some Brazo de Mercedes cake. Yum yum! Since I seem to be unable to sleep in my own bed, I have to ask my friend to let me sleep in his room.

02 October, Friday - I can't remember what I did today. It was Mark Robert Baldo's birthday. There.

03 October, Saturday - It was Brielle Shane Flores and Cyrielle Claire Machan's birthday. Typhoon Pepeng changed its course and spared the places that were struck by typhoon Ondoy. Regarding my day, I can't remember what I did too.

04 October, Sunday - I went to SM City North Edsa and was totally bored that I brought myself a new shirt that was way too small for me. What. And, was this the day that Pinoy Big Brother Double Up started? Ugh. People are so whatever, enjoying watching humans-turned-hamsters whatever. Ugh. So annoying.

05 October, Monday - It was my last meeting in CWTS1-Anthro. There.

06-09 October - Can I not talk about this stuff? They're all the same (or I'm getting tired of doing this stuff.)

10 October - I slept all day. I went to SM City North Edsa supposedly to buy food stuff, and I had a very hard time hailing a taximeter cabriolet by night. Right now people are watching that PBB thing and I'm so annoyed at them making fun of those in the house who are making fun of themselves. What. Oh. Haven't I told you yet about the people in the house? Ugh. Very stereotypical. Before they enter, they were already given their 'brand' names. For example, one is branded as the hunk of this place, the funny girl of that, and whatsoever. They were given a very specific part of their identity. People, we are complex beings, okay? We won't be hunks nor good-hearted forever. What were you guys thinking? Trying to sell people?

In the next two weeks (apparently before I go home), it'd be a big whoa of winds. Next week will be my hell week. The other will be my free week (which may entail hell too since I might not be maintaining my money that time).

As you can see, this week's schedule is up there. I can't find a way on how to make that thing go here. Oh well.

I'd be flying back home by 24 October, 7.00 in the morning. I'd be riding on a Philippine Airlines Airbus. Oh I can't wait to go home. Sure enough, a lot of things had changed and/or added in the city. Robinsons' Place General Santos opened last 02 October and I just can't wait to see it. Oh well. I'll be home, for sure. I love it. :D

If we're all for love, how come there are foridden ones?

I don't know why we love. I don't know why there are forbidden ones. I hate this society. I hate this society for being so oppressive and -.

Elaborate it later. Promise.

God, bless me - with all the love I need right now.

I don't know.

There's nothing to expect. There's nothing to hope for. We both know that and we know it's totally unnecessary. It could have been too late or so. But the moment that the truth was told, and if we chose to direct the path towards that, nothing can happen. We already both know that, before everything went along.

I know it's not wrong, yet you totally believe it's not right. Or maybe you're just trying to protect me or so. It hurts, either way, and the pain lingers. But I can't hold onto it for so long. I'll let you go, along as I let go of this feeling. It wouldn't be easy.

I love you. Don't worry, it won't last long. It might entail a lot of pain, but trust me, I can let it all fade away.

I want to thank you. I want to thank you so much for all that we've been through, for everything. I know it's lame but thank you very much. This has been a long night, and indeed I felt better.

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for being this. I can get through this, wait for me.

And I hope we're happy with what's going to happen.

God, please give me someone else to love. I need it right now. :D

We'll be taking chances, then.

It's floating, this insane feeling. It's floating, perhaps like a feather blown by the unintentional wind to nowhere. I don't know. I don't even know where it's going. It's that difficult.

Probably we'll be taking chances, on whatever that'll happen. It's that difficult.

Would it be a worth it choice? We'll never know. But yes, we'll be together along the way. And I hope it'll last until the very end. Oh just wishful thinking.

We'll take chances. We will.

Mutual I

She lies alone in her bed, reaching her pillows while staring at her phone. In it was a message - a message that a lot of people had been wanting to receive, had been dying to get. It was a message that caused her to smile for so long. She knew it. Finally. The feeling is mutual.

She touches herself, bit by bit. Nobody knew what was going on, what was between them, what they were doing on the night her parents left for Macau. She herself cannot confirm such feelings then. To her it was not odd, but rather it was peculiar. She was uncertain of what it really was, of why it was happening, of how it was occuring to her. She then feels her own lips with her fingers.

She pants slowly. She takes every breath, every part of that beautiful memory, into her as if nothing else would come next. She closes her eyes and tries to visualize that night.

It was dark in the room with only the light of the laptop screen flickering across the two faces that are in front of it, one staring closely at the screen and the other gazing at her.

"Stacey, what are you looking at? Something in my face?"

Stacey grips Anne's face with both hands. She brings it near hers. It was a combination of sudden and slow. They both look into each other's eyes until they close their eyelids at the same time. Stacey places her lips on Anne's. Anne for a second opens her eyes in surprise. She closes it again and savors the moment, as Stacey's fingers travel across Anne's body.

Suddenly, Anne pushes Stacey away from her. It was done. She realized it when it was late. She pushed Stacey even more, putting the latter in a state of shock, then she fled the room and fled the house.

Her fantasy ended when her phone rang. One message from Anne. She impatiently opens it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. The message wasn't for you. Please don't take it seriously. It'll never happen again."

It was wrong. The feeling was false. It wasn't mutual at all.

She gets up in bed. She grabs the blade that rested in her table.

The lights went off.

Terminal: a place where it starts, and where it stops.

Remembering the "then" times, I found my old notebook of fiction and then it made me miss writing stories. Perhaps I'll be back again into it when I get into it.

"We won't go together now. It's time to part ways, Empress," Dane took his bags and stood up. It was some other day, except that people are too busy going everywhere.

"I'm afraid," Empress said.

"Don't," he replied, "Please, don't."

"I'm afraid that you'll never tell me."

"That I love you," Dane stared into her eyes.

"You won't. You never did. You never will."

"I'm sorry. I'm leaving," he turned away, "Goodbye."

"How could you -"

"I'm sorry."

Empress was already sobbing. She watches Dane walk away slowly, slowly towards the departure area. The prince of time gripped the hourglass strongly, almost crushing the glass preventing the sands go down the next ventricle.

"You told me you'll never leave me!"

"That was," Dane said in a whisper, "when things haven't changed yet."

"You told me that you'll be with me when I needed you the most!" Empress shouted, kneeling on the floor, "Dane, I need you!"

"I'm sorry."

Dane stopped walking. He still took a good hold of his bags, not as the spectators in the terminal expect him to drop them. Tears came out of his eyes, which is very rare to happen, though.

Then he utters, "I'm sorry, Empress. I loved you."

It was too soft to hear. He continued on walking. It was a walk as if he was very tired, molto stanco. Someone ran to Empress and helped her stand up from crying hard.

"Daniel, if you won't be responsible for her, I will," James said, "From now on I won't be hesitant to take care of the one I love!"

In his mind, Dane says 'shut up.'

"What a fool are you? You can't just let her go like this. Don't you think you're lucky enough to be loved?"

"Shut up."

"Don't you realize that a lot of people weren't loved by the people they loved?"

"Shut up."

"I could have envied you, Daniel. I could have envied you!"

"Die, James. Die. Now."

"Go away! Leave!" Empress commanded.

"What?" Dane speaks, in his mind.

Daniel added more footsteps and more teardrops. James hugged Empress tight. "Don't cry, I'm here now."

Dane fades away from the glass door. Empress falls into James' shoulder, into slumber. She becomes a child, into the arms of someone she had constantly rejected, but of who she had no choice but to withstand and/or fall in love with.

Does this mean I'm not doing good at all?

There was no sign. Or I suppose there was, it was just that I wasn't paying attention to it much at all. Or maybe I didn't care. Whatever, whichever way, I do not know.

I do not know why most people prefer other people to be certain, dead point certain. What's with certainty that makes them satisfied, after all this commotion?

I don't like certainties, I guess. Or only most of the times, it is. Then maybe certainty hated me by then, giving me uncertainties to live by. There's no point at all. Who wants to know what is bound, what is changeable? What's the reason for attempting to straighten out things, to follow a plan, to obey rules? What is the absolute? What is not? What do we need? What do we not need?

Argh.

This is only an attempt to strike through philosophy. I know. I don't have that organized mind much. I need to improve my thinking.

Short.

Finally, I've decided to create a blog post after a very long and silent while.

To give you an idea how busy and stressed and mobile I was, I'd only tell one thing: I haven't slept right for the last four or five weeks - that long enough. I know it's bad. I know. And I totally swear (to the nth thime, mind you) that I'll be sleeping early starting this Monday. I do totally hope for that.