oo nga naman, hindi naman talaga dapat kitang inaalala.
pero nasanay narin ako. bakit naman hindi? hindi ba ganun naman talaga ginagawa ng mga matalik na kaibigan we watch each other’s backs. bakit ngayon habang ikaw ay nahihirapan ayaw mo naman akong papasukin. hindi ba ako sapat para makasama kung ika’y wala sa tamang kalagayan?
siyempre naman kahit sabihin natin i’m totally not in the right sense to give comfort to anyone hindi naman ibig sabihin na i don’t shape up when things go bad on the other side of the fence may
ah fuck tagalog.
it’s true, it’s a given fact that i don’t have to be worried about you at all. heck, you were the anchor that keeps me grounded. you don’t need help. i get it. but i am merely human. i flinch about people clubbing baby seals. i have some innate compassion for some but not all living breathing beings.
you are included in this little subset, a higher priority than the baby seals. this is the beautiful and yet illogical human sense of caring. i wish i don’t have to feel it, but there it is, a little ray of hope inside my evil self which i can surely proclaim i am some sort of nice person. despite knowing i’m not.
but what the hey. you made it very clear. which kind of makes me think why this is such a one-way deal. i let you in, you know the innermost workings of my mind. and when i needed that shoulder to cry on you were there.
and i hate it that i’m here, i’m opening all my doors to you. my heart. and all the friendship in the world that would last a lifetime, or two.
too bad you don’t want it.
A real entry. (Because I still can. :P)
While waiting for the latest source code to download for a particular workspace, I would like to reiterate several moments starting last Sunday. It was a week without certain obligations and responsibilities, the person went back to fulfill some duties he sorely missed so I told myself to keep busy this entire week. I went on a whim and bought a lot of books, more than I could read in a span of a week, and started this little eherm, “Pilgrimage of Loneliness” as I have said to a friend, who laughed and told me I was becoming emo.
It was a Monday. So I park my diminishing, full-tank Silver Altis into Powerplant like I always did for the past 2 weeks. I got out carrying 11 minutes, my backpack stuffed with dirty clothes, and my wallet. I went to Joya, found the beautifully designed 7-11 at the Manansala and bought some cigarettes. In which I was contemplating which coffee shop to make my mark. I spotted a Figaro at Joya, but settled to have a Hazelnut Latte at UCC.
I sat comfortably and began to read about the story of Maria, who, was once upon a time, a prostitute. It was interesting as well as intriguing to have such a strong and inquisitive character to be led of a path that is completely familiar for us but we tend to shove it away, making it an underground dealing with society.
The air was cool and the sun has barely risen from the the plants where I was hidden smoking stick after stick until the shade wasn’t high enough to save me from the heat. I went to work full of anxiety and doubt. Like I always have when I went home and faced my mother again. But it will be different tomorrow.
Tuesday rolled around and we were off to a late start. My sister told me today that she ended up in school at 8am (her work starts at 7:30). And I was having a hard time looking for the Guadalupe-Cartimar jeep since the rush hour crowd arrived and I was already nearing Roxas before I was able to jump into one alongside other commuters for the ride to work.
I got to the office at around 8 as well. I grabbed my book, a wallet and the quickly diminishing carton of menthol lights and did the 10 minute walk from our building to the Columns, I was growing to love that place and I will miss it when we move near Makati Ave. but let’s not dwell on that.
One small street, one underpass and a huge intersection later, I was at the gorgeous 3 tower building of the Columns, and I headed to my favorite coffee place, Kopi Roti, ordered Coffee and toast, and settled myself outside reading and drinking and smoking and feeling basically euphoric.The toast was warm and delicious, like honey-butter, and the coffee was perfectly bittersweet.
It was a very nice day.
30 minutes later, the toast were reduced to crumbs and the coffee was nearly through. There was a need for more so I went in and ordered another cup, this time Milk tea, and went out to read again. The words of Paulo Coehlo was endearing and luscious to the brain and gently squeezes the heart with affection. The simple humor inserted to the story was enough to give me little smiles and released an aura that was bright and golden, like the sun that day and on the clear blue sky.
Halfway done, I got up and wobbled back to the streets. My heart and mind was totally at peace. And it made my soul smile for real for the first time after a couple of months of breaking down in tears and all the other angst that should have been erased in my teen years was present.
I continued on passing steel and glass buildings of modern architecture, people all rushing to get where they’re supposed to go, all of them look like mindless beings, each going to start the day and wishing that it is already finished, those who have ended the day and wishing it would soon start again. And those who pray for the weekend to come until they pray for another weekend. The cars, jeeps, buses and taxis all follow through the same route. Their horns blared through the streets.This was how the whole Makati Central Business District looked like in my drunken eyes. Drunk in a sense of new found realizations all for those silly hours in a coffee establishment with my feet propped up the chair, in olive green gauchos and a flowery white blouse.
I walked and wondered what the people that I passed by were thinking. The enlightenment that I had discovered made me a bit more like my old self, the person who I was when I was still away from Manila. The one who thought that you can only achieve happiness by leaving.
But I am here. And I felt the same way 2 years ago. Skipping along IT park, slurping an Apple Ice Lolly in my hands and feeling free, the same person last year who had the sense of reason to live and go to beaches, eat nice food, go to theaters and go home as late as I wanted.
I don’t have all those things here. But I know I am lucky for a lot of reasons.
I went to work feeling better about myself than how I felt that Monday.
After 8 hours, lunch, and the journey home, I stood at the not-so-usual side of Buendia, instead of the MSE building, waiting for a jeep to pass by.
Being spoiled at shuttle rides and the ever efficient but not so MRT, I had a hard time adjusting to the crowd at Gil Puyat, I forced myself to go LRT->MRT->Ayala loop, but I got over it, and I am as ruthless as they are. But a tad more logical. And I say that without arrogance.
When I was dropped off at the Japanese restaurant at Buendia, I was able to see a Divisoria jeep. And I hopped on and took a trip that revolved many parts of my life.
I have seen various sightings of San’s old car, the lovely Crosswind that he used to pick me up and drop me off my house. The streets where I ran after Ogie when he was running away from me. I saw the SM Fairview FX where he would always ride to and from school, the now widened entrance of South gate, where I saw Mark again, and the fake columned gox building which was a home for 4 years and where I met Ben whom we took on graduation, side by side and seated on the same cubicle at work until it was time for our resignation. I got off at the church and walked towards home. I nissan sentra like the one Otep had and driven me around Cebu ran pass the place where I was baptized as a Catholic. The grocery which I prowled for this certain type of noodles that I never saw anymore. I walked pass Benavides, a street with either a “z” or an “s” it will always be an “s” for me.
It was only Masangkay street, but I was already feeling the lethargy, I took a break eating fishballs and continued until I reached the little bridge where I pass by to go meet people from St. Stephen, or the only sole date I had with my first love, amongst twister fries and coke. Then it was my old alma matter, a place full of broken dreams and unrequited love, but I found true friendship. People who’ll stick by you no matter what, from the Devon Sawa, Andrew Keegan jokes, the beautiful old snail mails, cheers and jolly hotdogs, and all else that is wonderful.
Pure nostalgia engulfed my senses as I was reaching the endpoint of this mini saga. It was the 5 minute walk home. There was a time when Lunch can still be taken outside the school, I met a friend whom shared the same walk and book preference.
At last here is home. The five-story building which I remembered clearly my 6 year old self, trying to stuff my clothes in a little metal suitcase. But only the bathrobe fit. *laughs. Where I spent most of the days now in my room glued to my laptop or sleeping, or getting home “late” (Define late), and basically having either fights or silent treatments and the wanting to leave quickens then sort of settled.
This was how my Tuesday ended. I was full of thoughts, but not one made me feel like the world owed me something, but mostly, it’s me thanking the world for giving me such a colorful life.
I am beginning to see how pretty life can be. I hope I take those thoughts with me each and every single day for the rest of my time here on earth.
my wondertwin.
the new and improved wondertwins.
When I heard that he was resigning, it was like a sock in the stomach, a knife through the heart and a slap to the face. When I knew only 30 days were left, I was a barrel of emotions. Shock, pain, grief, denial, anger, worry, panic, sad, disappointed, surprised and maybe a hefty more others that I cannot remember but I feel.
You don’t spend 6 years with someone close only to taken away in an instant.
And talk about pouring rock salt, bitter and gashed into the wounds.
I didn’t want to hear him say his goodbyes so I went around and took pictures during the time he was saying his final words in the office.
2 work days has passed since he left…and I go to the office in tears and very disturbed. The empty seat next to Helen was screaming. When it wasn’t him tinkering on the server next to me, it feels weird, and when I look for him if I wanted to drag someone for coffee or to talk about work stuff…
I found him not there and I would cry silently in my seat, shoulders shaking. When we had a brunch out with the project mates, I knew someone was missing. And when Helen told me.
Sick leave…it’s been two days
I knew he wasn’t really there and I had to give myself some dignity and hastily wipe the tears that escaped from my eyes.
I tried to joke about it, but my voice breaks and my eyes have grown swollen and smaller than the usual, forming into horizontal slits.
He was a big part of your life
And he really is…
…I really don’t know what to say.
the significance of friends
nobody really knows how much i adore my friendship with people whom i refer as friends. these are the people whom i can trust, with people whom i can talk to, tell my own secrets, my own frustrations. be it online, offline, over dinner, over coffee, over cigarettes.
nobody knew about my dark past, where i was taunted with horrible names and laughed at my quirkiness. it wasn’t easy for me. to stay in school was dreadful. where i count the days until it’s the summer or go to sleep in tears wishing i don’t have to go there to be judged harshly by self-proclaimed ‘it’ groups and other cliques that i had to go through my life.
now, i may have that behind me, but it doesn’t mean i have forgotten. everytime i feel the hurt from people whom i call “friends” because they value me less, i feel the pain of elementary and high school all over again.
frankly, i feel that i am having the same nightmare all over again…
and…it’s so funny…when the people whom you thought you can trust….not.
