Surprise.

Contemplation.

A few months back, there was a need to find reasons to go on.

Little by little, I did. I left work, taking with me more treasures than I could have hoped to walk away with. God provides the best things in life without hesitation.

A family has welcomed me better than I could have expected. Days of laughter, and shared meals. Of stories in the past and future aspirations. Invitations to return, introductions to extended family, teaching class, more invitations to return by New Year's Day and to participate in a summer workshop...I'm overwhelmed with happiness. Though doubts flicker at the back of my mind, pursuing one's happiness involves consciously eliminating doubts and trusting God would make things work above all.

To God be the glory.

A Look Back: 2001 (Con't.)

I'm still up though, blogging, when I'm supposed to be creating 20 paragraphs, each with its own set of answers on what the main idea/topic of each paragraph is. I'm still up, blogging, when I should be resting for an early day tomorrow. Am I gypsy? A Bohemian? I feel restless... I just want to keep writing...

...

May 7, 2001 - Monday
There are so many things I’ve realized. Ever noticed how the personalities of cars can be read through their headlights? Not the brightness of the beam but by the position of the lights. That’s why some cars look stupid, others sexy, others smart and others cute. Then when you look at their rear lights during heavy traffic at night, they look like they all share a wicked conspiracy...like they exist in a twilight zone of their own.

Because their lights all look like red gleaming eyes. Be they smart, sexy, funny...they all look like they’re plain mad.

Or maybe I’m mad.

I’ve been noticing the slightest thing of no importance.

Just the other day, I've given Signorina the interpretation about a certain dream she had. I'm grateful that she trusted me. Someone once quoted Jock for saying I give good dream interpretations. It marvels me to find out they recognize me as being good at something.

We’re still here in 402, at Aunt D’s place sharing it with her two daughters. And already, we're not welcome. Imagine. We didn’t even last a week. I don’t care if we end up on the streets. What’s important is we find some peace of mind. I need space for venting. I need to find some kind of sanctuary within the walls of my imagination. Probably the lack of it is the reason why I’m completely out of coordination. In music, I find solace.

‘Send someone to love me. I need to rest in arms. Keep me safe from harm in the pouring rain. Give me endless summer. Lord, I feel the cold. Feel I’m getting old...before my time. Coz my soul...feels the shame. I will grow through this pain. Lord, I’m doing all I can...to be a better man.’

May 9, 2001 - Wednesday
Confirmation day today at UST. I didn’t get Communication Arts.    Sir Aldryn hired Ex's GF for soprano in our ‘Wedding-Singers’ group. The world changes every minute. It rained while I was in a cab with Mom awhile ago. We came from Ate N’s and Kuya J’s place. They invited us over. Aunt J accompanied us. The lampposts were towering over us, as their light seemed a skyway for aircrafts. Glowing in the rain, there was something serene about them. And when the rain started pouring harder...the shadow the drops caused was like a gentle flowing waterfall upon the cab’s windows. Truly captivating.

Smoky-colored streets with filthy spit-covered pavements. The pungent odor of urine upon the walls of the corridor. Bits of wrappers and plastic littered all over the once-clean crossway. But to others, they are the dignified design of ages past. They are proof that plastic does not decompose. A reminder of the careless mistakes of their origin.

This is Tenement.

What’s the purpose of sacrifice? Is its cause always selfless? Love grows over time if the will is overpowered by feeling. True, sometimes we have to really let go of all feeling and take matters objectively. But when fiery passion gets ahold of us and a persistent force keeps pounding us what we feel is the right thing to do, the conscience cannot bear the weight of the burden. And we leap, oblivious of the fall.

Expression is not wit. It’s ventilation. The story goes on...

Oh. I almost forgot. I called him up. And for one flitting moment, nothing else in the whole world mattered.

May 10, 2001 - Thursday
Ate A, K and I went to a nearby mall. Sunshine Mall. It seemed okay. I’ve just finished watching Jackie Chan’s movie. The stunts were really good.

Lord knows I’m lonely. And when I tell someone that I am, their initial reaction would be to give me advices. It’s really not what I need...

I just need someone willing to share the truth with me...willing to share the truth that loneliness brings a person to the point that he forgets he’s alive and that there’s supposed to be a certain direction that he should be following in life.

From there I already gain comfort. At least I know someone has a vague idea of what I’m going through.

May 12, 2001 - Saturday
Last night was a very overwhelming one. Everyone was so nice and they were all happy...And I spent the night wondering. As choking gasping noises merge with the swirling mist and fog, one man’s mind floats through miles of endless longing. Only to find arms embracing no one. Doe-eyed  texted him and asked him where he was. He said he was in Batangas. Realizations.

One man’s misery is another man’s joke. Alcohol can take you to a time travel. The soft ringing laughter caresses your battered soul. The more we disregard simplicity, the more logical it becomes. Sometimes I feel as though I’m being robbed of my personality. When good friends have things in common, things that bring them together, they should also have differences that set them apart.

It’s unfair to die before the end. It’s unfair to feel the spirit deteriorate before the body decays.

Wisps of woven windstrings caress the back of my mind where perception lies still. The rest is in a coma.

May 13, 2001 - Sunday
Everything around me is different. Like the world I was born in suddenly vanished and all that’s left is a big pile of dump. I’m slowly returning to my cold self. Like Voldemort. Empty. Not really evil...Just cold.

They complain about mistreatment. Mistrust brings havoc. This is preliminary hell. Sure enough, I don’t feel any lighter. Nobody owns me. I was made without the assurance that I could be owned, mind, soul and heart. Possession is the one thing that is impossible. The only thing that can really bind is devotion.

My heart is alive. Beating. But encased in a thick layer of ice, unyielding to the warmth normality brings. Because such normality...in this place...does not exist.

May 19, 2001 - Saturday
Days have passed. I haven’t had the strength to write what happened. Something very uncanny happened the other day. I was strumming LET IT BE on my guitar as I tried to recall the things I’ve done lately. I glanced at the clock and realized it was 2PM. Today was May 17. And then it struck me! I was supposed to enroll around 11AM!

When I asked my Mom, she sort of had this look, which translated simply to, good thing you forgot because unfortunately, we don’t have enough money for your enrollment, dear.

Mom suggested I attend Theatre School while I wait. And enroll in that with what? Sigh.

I didn’t panic. God meant for it to happen. Now I have time to make poems, novels, etc.

May 23, 2001 - Wednesday
I just woke up, ignorant of the time. I’ve made up my mind to wake up late. But I know it’s still early. The cold is slicing my bones and I’m aching all over.

Yesterday, we went to Camp Crame to process the educational benefit I could use from my Grandfather’s benefits from the war. I’m finally going to school through the use of benefits. I just don’t know when I will start. But all the same, I’ll continue to learn from the best and wisest teacher.

Experience.

Random Thoughts:

You Must Love Me        Tim Rice/Andrew Lloyd Webber

Where do we go from here?
This isn’t where we intend it to be
We had it all...you believed in me...I believed in you.
Certainties disappear...
What do we do for our dream to survive?
How do we keep all our passions alive as we used to do?
Deep in my heart, I’m concealing things that I’m longing to say...
Scared to confess what I’m feeling...
Frightened you’d slip away...
You must love me...you must love me...
Why are you at my side?
How can I be any use to you now?
Give me a chance and I’ll let you see how...
...Nothing has changed.
Deep in my heart, I’m concealing things that I’m longing to say...
Scared to confess what I’m feeling...
Frightened you’d slip away...
You must love me...you must love me...
You must...love me.

Oh, and we were robbed of 3 boxes. It was piled outside the flat when we noticed the pile was kind of lopsided. It paved the way for Aunt D and her kids to make up with Mom.

God works in mysterious ways.

May 24, 2001 - Thursday
I write better during the evening. Something in the stillness motivates me. Kisses empty but real, serenading the sweet moonlight into hiding. Swirling haze unveils the secrets only the ground holds, the blood that gushed through it told. Love comes as a mystery to all. Prevents one from conquer. Life is the sun’s overpowering beauty no one can behold. No one can see but the blind. Friend to all but never to yield for love. Never to be happy with
love. It is travesty so sweet and passion so pure. Raw hatred runs through the mind of one who’s been brave, but in finding the one, failed. Leaving the dancer alone with the enchantment of the night...the music of the twilight...the soft weeping of the moon with two faces. No wonder dreaming is a popular pastime. Because each is a king of his own realm, the ruler of his destiny. Change the world.

May 25, 2001 - Friday
Aunt D and Mom have really made up. Everything is okay again. Hopefully, it stays this way for the longest possible time before Mom gets picked on by the family again.

Random Thoughts
Depth. They said I had so much depth. Sometimes I even wonder if I do exist. In some twisted way, people like me exist. Someday, I’ll prove through expression...I not only exist. I am alive in my existence.

May 26, 2001 - Saturday
We sang at the San Agustin Church. It was a pretty good. And we earned some stash for it. So I bought food for Mom and the family. And I bought a book on how to speak Chinese.

May 27, 2001 - Sunday
This is the real world we’re living in. On the way to Intramuros, a street child tapped the window of the cab we were riding in. Leaning on the glass, I noticed that he was only around five or six years old. He was pleading. A
thousand thoughts occurred through my mind as I thought of what I would’ve done if only I had a little more than the cab fare.

“Sige na, te…palimos po. Pangkain lang po…”

There was a growing lump in my throat as I had the urge to get him off the street and help him live his life that way he’s supposed to be living. Playing. Eating. Studying. Living.

Someday I will have the chance to get all the children off the streets.

By the way, she's now in Egypt. Mom’s been devastated.

May 28, 2001 - Monday
I once read somewhere by the road I always travel on...

‘Ambition never comes to an end.’

May 29, 2001 - Tuesday
I said farewell to Embryo. For the time being. It just gets more and more difficult everyday to hear all those joyous stories and never being able to tell one of my own.

Submission of a Single Mom

I've repeatedly tried to put this off, always rationalizing that the day's full of activities ahead to allot even a few minutes time to blog on what been lingering on my mind.

They say, God is Word. I've practiced this since I encountered it July of this year (2010, in case you're reading this years after). When you think about God being the Word, you realize instantly that what you say is as good as done. Because God IS the word. It's the simplest act of love and faith. It's been what I've applied on my work and affected what I've achieved of my last quarterly EDP score, on my aspirations of being a freelance writer and choreographer, and being a single mother, able to successfully rear a child to become a man after God's own heart.

Yet sometimes, there are certain truths that come to life and no matter how hard we try to ignore them, they are begging to be acknowledged. So I did. With my mind, but not with my lips. I could agree that things were happening that were not under my control, but I never admitted them out loud.

Well, this entry is dedicated to that attempt. Foolish or brave in its core, I'm uncertain. All I know is that this is acknowledgment for what simply is.

Last Sunday, I went to Victory Church. The enemy definitely made himself palpable from Sunday morning up until I successfully finished the service. I got up, waited for my cousin and her boyfriend to wake up, and when they did, I told them I was going to Victory. You're probably thinking, what's so special about that idea? It's as common as people going to church every Sunday. Well, it was extraordinary. Because for the longest time since I left my previous job, I have neglected going to any church, or temple, or any places of worship. It was not because I defied Him. I didn't go because I was ashamed.

So many ups and downs have happened, and He's been true to His word, that He's the Living God. And yet here I was, still feeling lost and small and insignificant in the great currents of life. I found small pieces of happiness and I pursued them, if it means saving my life, extending it a bit more to have a better grasp at things. I would travel for hours, looking for love and acceptance, for a world outside my world that might see me differently, and the worst part of it is, He's been with me the entire time. It only me who's neglected to converse again with Him.

So my cousin and her boyfriend said they couldn't go since they already attended service the day before. That meant I had to go alone. I didn't mind. I was determined. I got ready and rode the jeep without confirming the destination it's bound for. When it stopped in front of SM Bacoor instead of going straight to Zapote, I realized I definitely had a challenger up in my face. So I got off the jeep. And decided to walk to Victory, a good 30 minutes away, and offer the exercise as a simple act of love for Him.

I passed by so many people, so many vehicles, street children who knew ten times as many foul words as the average adult, beggars whose faces were gaunt with hunger, people who seemed covered in coal dust speaking with entities that couldn't be seen, homeless women carrying their infants in tattered clothes...and I wept inwardly. These people are of my own race. I am limited by my own status from helping them. And yet in their eyes, such strong resolve to continue. While here I was, teetering dangerously between life and death with every breath I take.

Victory soon appeared in front of me. I entered, feeling like a man having come from a desert that did not have an oasis, parched for God's word. I listened and was distracted every now and then, but the service was beautiful, the worship ten times as fulfilling for my personal need to praise and thank Him.

I did it. I reached Victory.

...

Peachy if the story ended there.

But it goes on. Being a jobless, single mom with mountains of challenges to overcome on her own on top of trying to constantly put food on the table is no easy task. There's also mom to support. Hunger elongates the face but sharpens the senses. It shatters fantasies and makes you equipped to face life's greatest adversaries. God created this world, rich and teeming with resources, but we've put such a deranged value on everything that only the affluent can truly enjoy the "best" things in life. Or at least the "best man-made" things in life.

I'm a mother of two. My son, and my mom. I don't always have both love and money. But at the end of the day, I will always have faith. Just like what a good friend said once, "We've lived this long, Shai. There must be a reason we've lived this long." I can't trust myself to always make the best decisions or to come out on top. But I always will trust Him, the one who's truly in charge.

Friends of mine who have three children, who are separated, who have been physically, emotionally and psychologically abused, who are mothers trying to struggle along to provide the best kind of life for their young ones...we all are in the same circle. And they have earned my respect tenfold than some friends who have unfairly criticized them. A woman's strength might every now and then falter, but the One hand who made us all never will. And I have faith, that if He is strong for a young woman who is a responsibility all to herself, then He must be much stronger for women like us, with children formed out of love who deserve only the best in life, who would be raised to become men and women worthy of inheriting the earth as God's gift to their parents, and their parents before them.

So I acknowledge this entry as a confirmation. I confirm that I am submitting myself entirely to God's plans. I rest my worries and when they come again upon sunrise, I will fight all 1440 minutes to rest then once more.

In hope and faith and love, for my favorite passage below.

"For your Maker is your husband-the Lord Almighty is his name-the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; He is called God of all the earth. The Lord will call you back, as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit-a wife who married young, only to be rejected,' says your God. For a brief moment I abandoned you. But with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger, I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you,' says the Lord the Redeemer. To me this is like the days of Noah, when I swore that the waters of Noah would never again cover the earth. So now I have sworn not to be angry with you, never to rebuke you again. Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,' says the Lord, who has compassion on you."

- Isaiah 54: 5-10

A Look Back: 2001 (Con't)

Ugh. The music from the beerhouse is relentless.


...
...

April 7, 2001 - Saturday
I’ve just finished having my friends’ films developed. I have about a hundred photos of Embryo. Can’t wait to make the scrapbook. I'm reminiscing February 14, 2001. I remember everyone was stressed that day. We were all nervous because we all wanted to make a difference... But as everything slowly fell into place, we knew we were really doing something worth our sweat, blood and tears. I miss everyone... 

 

April 10, 2001 - Tuesday 

I haven’t been myself lately. I honestly admit that the last few days of writing in my journal, my mind was wandering elsewhere. The moon’s been eerie lately. It’s more red than yellow. Empty sky. Devoid of both stars and clouds. Reckon it’s also one of the reasons why I’ve been feeling empty as well. I went to the Seton Notes office because we had a meeting. A friend called him. He’s been there all this time, saying he’s going to Burma next week. Hmmm.

Random Thoughts
I wasn't feeling anything awhile ago. But now, familiar pain is stabbing my heart. I want to escape from the stress. Confusion. To ponder on seclusion... What is it about me that's so difficult to love? I’m embracing the pain because when I’ve absorbed all of it, I’d be too numb to feel the hurting.
   
Loneliness. Darkness. Numbing pain. Tears. Silence. Candle. Zephyr. Night. Eyes that speak. Broken. Tattered Soul. Passion. Love. Searching. Lost. Fire. Death. Immortality.

Sometimes I think it’s better to love you from afar. Then I would be able to protect you from the pain that I’m capable of inflicting.

April 11, 2001 - Wednesday
We went to Lola’s place today at Cavite. I love the No Me Ames video.

April 13, 2001 - Friday
I am here with Mom and Mama at Tito Doc's place. Everything is well except that I have colds. I watched some movies like They Nest, Rush Hour, Gorgeous, Hollow Man, etc.

My Ex texted me yesterday and it made me feel worse. I sent him this text message. 

‘If you’re wondering why I’m grouchy, it’s because I’m going through the hardest time of my life right now. And I just came to realize that friends are not real friends until they prove they are friends when it really counts.’ I asked Choco if it was too harsh and she said that it was just right, at least he’s aware of how I feel. Then she sent me this text message.

‘Don’t worry, we love you and let that be enuf.’

Her message was short but it really hit home. I don’t know if I can ever thank them, Embryology, enough for their loyalty and friendship. I was lost and now, am found.

April 14, 2001 - Saturday
Today was a particularly freaky day. I woke up around 8:30 AM, feeling better than I had been feeling for the past few days. The medicine did its job. My mom is still in agony. Her kidney has been bothering her a lot lately. And she’s been freaking me out by saying all kinds of last wishes like she wants to be cremated, no 40 days, no 9 days. She said she doesn’t want large wreaths or whatever adorning her. She said she wouldn’t be able to appreciate them anymore. She told me to be strong and to handle things with an iron heart and that she puts everything in my hands. It was very unnerving. I don’t think she should say things like that because I know she’s going to be fine. She doesn’t want me to wear black and doesn’t want me to cry. She said I should be happy when she passes away because by then her woes are all over. Sigh.

April 15, 2001 - Sunday
We’ve just returned from Tito Doc's place at Sta. Mesa and now at Kuya's place at Las Piñas. I’m feeling a lot better. I've just received Choco's e-mail. JM’s left for the States. I’ve also finished plotting the layout for the scrapbook. Watching Jesus Christ Superstar. Great music! Powerful story!

Someday, I’d be able to collect all the Jackie Chan movies. And all the Broadway soundtracks. And all the books I’ve been longing to read.

April 17, 2001 - Tuesday
I’ve received the worst news last night. I'm on a waiting list for Communication Arts since all the slots have been taken up. So I had to shift to Behavioral Science, which I don’t have any interest in. Does this mean that I’ll stop for a while and resume when the right time comes? What is God’s plan...?

April 18, 2001 - Wednesday
I went to SM today with Choco. We watched Sweet November. The movie was good and so were Keanu’s lines but his facial expression wasn't able to convince me about how the character felt. I’m very confused. I have to make the right choice at this crucial time in my life. It’s going to be very difficult because I’m choosing between taking a course I’m not fit for or waiting around for the next opportunity to take the course I know I can be good at. I wish I could attend special classes in the meantime.

What makes choosing difficult is the fact that we don’t really know what the end will be like. I don’t want to live these years of my life and finally in the future, look back and realize that I’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. I don’t want to live my life in regret. I do hope that God will see me through. I hope He’ll give some sign as to where I can better serve my purpose in accordance with His plan.

April 19, 2001 - Thursday
10:12 PM
I’m alone in the room, thinking of inspiring words to write in the scrapbook. But my mind’s become blank. Like I never studied. Because I can’t think of a single bloody word. I think it’s because I feel empty inside.
   
April 25, 2001 - Wednesday
I went to Caffé to meet with Embryo because Mom and I would soon be moving to Taguig so it was sort of like a Farewell Party. It felt more like bonding than goodbye. Poet made me feel whole. We talked the entire night. Not even a goodbye from him.

April 26, 2001 - Thursday
Practice of the Wedding Singers. I can’t seem to stop thinking. Cussing Nurse enrolled today (so did some of our other friends etc.). Cussing Nurse said she saw him. He said he’s been busy, has no load and wasn’t aware that I was moving.

April 27, 2001 - Friday
Practice of the Wedding Singers. I was late. We’re starting to sound good. I had goose bumps when we were singing Ikaw. Buffy flattered me by saying I was good. In dancing, singing and acting. The music filled an empty space inside me.

May 1, 2001 - Tuesday
It’s Labor Day today. But it’s also a sad day. It was heartbreaking, seeing people fight against one another. Man is law unto himself. He will strive to do what he thinks is just even if he comes across the most difficult of obstacles to obtain it...

Lord. Save your people...

May 3, 2001 - Thursday
We were moving our things yesterday. But we weren’t allowed to leave the village. Because we weren’t aware of the policy of getting a signature from the president of the homeowners and the head of the security office when you're bringing your OWN things outside. We went through the trouble of loading everything into a 12-seater passenger jeep only to remove everything again. Geez.

 

We arrived at Taguig with only a few clothes and saw Aunt D scolding Ate A. Ate A had been crying. She locked herself in the CR. Aunt D seems cold to us but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how else we can progress from this kind of life when we have the wrong attitude. Things are very confusing. I wish I could take a vacation. And read as much as I want. And play as much as I want.

I wish I could talk to Michael Jackson for inspiration.

May 4, 2001 - Friday
I spent the entire afternoon playing tong-its with my relatives. I tried writing a letter to her. Somehow everything I wanted to say disappeared because of the sudden demise of my brain cells. Like I have so much to say but nothing to tell.I’m getting very frustrated. I have to keep busy, keep doing something. Otherwise when I let a second fleet without doing anything, thoughts of him linger in my mind. Causing a discomforting ache in my heart...which I’m dying inwardly from.

May 5, 2001 - Saturday
Reflection. What do I normally see when I look into the mirror...? I see thousands of images. But I can’t find my own. Perhaps it’s because I’ve always struggled to be an eye’s delight for many years. Striving to be what they want. But not satisying what they want. Therefore, in the process of finding companions, I’ve worn so many masks. ‘People don’t trust what they can’t explain...’ I grew up as a teacher to my own soul. My spirit has a life of its own. I’ve searched for the happiness complexity lacks. I’m happy with my dog, Mico, whom I left at Las Piñas under the care of the owner of the house we used to rent. I’m happy with beautiful mornings, breathtaking nights and still dawns. I’m happy with the fulfillment that overcomes my solitude, fulfillment brought by the simplest symphony. I’m happy with the artistic, passionate words strung together to make a story that befalls an aching heart. I’m facing this trial even though I took no part of its beginning. I don’t look back because I won’t see anything good. I haven’t lived my life yet. I’m living theirs. Because I’m being their child, the child of my beloved parents and the child of my estranged relatives. Poet, being in a similar situation, and I, have a choice to leave and start our individual lives, making our own decisions, dealing with our own problems. Problems we can make for ourselves because of the desire to feel satisfied in making the right solutions. I’m standing by because I need to. Because I want to.

A Look Back: 2000 (Con't.)

I'm kept awake by the guy singing Mang Jose in a kind of bluesy way at the beerhouse right outside our village. Now he's singing 21 Guns, and it sounds like a cross between Michael Buble and Metallica. It's totally new in a non-flattering way. Sir, please...shut up.

 Retreating back to memories...

...Oh, but before I do, a blast from the past said he read some of the entries here and recognized himself. Funny. He said reading my blog is like riding a time machine. It really is, isn't it? Can you imagine that I once saw you this way, my reader, especially if you're from my high school? I probably saw you once in the hallway, flipping your hair over your shoulder, putting concealer on...or talking to your girlfriends or best buds about that new craze, the new song, who got caught making out with whom, who you're speculating would die in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban...or my eyes must've caught you cheating on a test paper, snoozing during Homeroom, flirting with your guy's best friend, munching down several cuapao's behind the White House, shedding tears at the Guidance's Office...

I have good memory. Sometimes. I remember this particular memory... I was 8 years old, in the living room, painting the coconut trees in our front yard on several oslo papers when I looked up, gazed at the blue sky with the white puffy clouds floating serenely by, the summer breeze coming in from the open windows, and I thought to myself, I'll remember this moment forever. And I do. When I remember that moment, I still remember everything, even the way I sat on the floor, what I was wearing, how generally happy and grateful I felt for being alive.

Taking a trip down memory lane now...

March 10, 2001 - Saturday
The exams are finally over. We went to Acoustic Guy's place yesterday and the sky was simply exquisite. I think that the moon is splendid not only because she is an entity of her own but also because the stars and the clouds adorn her. The sky at night is as black as emptiness so that the moon’s beauty can shine like candlelight. Has anyone ever adored the candle in broad daylight? Isn’t it more alluring in the dark?

I bonded with Beautiful Clouds. We went through all of her stuff and reminisced. And I learned how to play billiards with Childhood Rival.

We went to Signorina's house today. And then went to ATC and watched Miss Congeniality. The movie was neat.

...But the grandest of moments could not pierce through the hardest of stones. My own sun has become the cause of my shriveling.

Random Thoughts
Do you ever wonder if the day comes when you realize that nothing happens anymore? Does that mean the increased unemployment rate for men who work in companies that manufacture diaries…? Just an odd thought. Experiencing Neruda is like embracing the shock of brain freeze. His real name is Neftali Ricardo Reyes. I have written more of his pieces in my journal.

Random Thoughts
We fight for our right to be treated in the vessel of freedom and equality. And from time to time, we win our battles. But how come we don’t fight with as much passion for life’s creations? Like a global, green revolution. How do we judge wisdom? Is a man wise when he loves, knows from the start its hopelessness therefore gives up? Or is man wise when he continues to love without expecting anything in return?

Beautiful Clouds thinks I write beautifully. I’m just an interpreter of life.

March 11, 2001 - Sunday
It's early morning. I want to escape into portals of childhood coconut trees and lakes caressed by the music of a soft breeze. I want to sink into despair as though nothing else can chase the despair away. But the spirit stays strong and leans upon the wilting willow nearby.

‘Love is not in words or in tongue but in deed and in truth.’

March 12, 2001 - Monday
Evening.
I called him up through Beautiful Clouds' help. Dear Beautiful Clouds. I asked if we could talk about something that was deeply troubling my mind. He said, “Yeah, tomorrow.” I guess that’s better than nothing. When we were about to put our phones down, he softly said with some tenderness, “Good night…” Beautiful Clouds said we were like Laurie and Jo. My mind ceases to work.

March 14, 2001 - Wednesday
Beautiful Clouds and I watched 10 Things I Hate About You. It was nice. The graduation practices were boring. Grad Ball. I don’t have a date or escort or whatever. I'll be attending with the Tropang Stag.

The whole world is a perfect painting of Melrose Place. People are exchanging dates and partners. I’m sensing something bad’s about to happen.
   
He and I talked. Resolved things. He’s relieved. And I’m burdened. I’ve taken another step to higher pretense.

March 15, 2001 - Thursday
It's 2nd Year High Best Friend's birthday today. We set up the perfect place for her surprise party. Angelic Voice and Angelic were really nice. I got bruised (er…a small cut is more like it). It didn’t matter.

He was being true to his word. We were talking again. He was teasing me about being close with Rodya (because Rodya carried a table for me without me even asking him) and he led 2nd Year High Best Friend to believe that I was already going with someone to the Ball.

Sir Iean and Ms. Framel were there! It was sweet of them.

After that, we rushed for Mamu’s surprise birthday bash. It was nice. The Embryo write-ups were fantastic. I loved the format!

March 16, 2001 - Friday
He's been texting me about the Embryo pictures. I went to October's house. Lawyer, Cussing Nurse, Choco, Childhood Rival, etc. were there. We watched The Wedding Planner and Titan A.E. We were criticizing the films. The award was given to T.A.E. because it seemed to be made up by parts of other movies. I remember Lawyer laughing because she was delighted with this weird-looking bug character. She thought it looked cute and in mid-laughter, the bug got blown to pieces.

She was like, “Hahaha! Haha! Oh…it died.”

The sky was dazzling. It seems so peaceful and mysterious.

Received the NSAT results. Got 99 in English. I didn’t even expect to pass. I've been so preoccupied lately.

March 17, 2001 - Saturday
4:05 AM
I’m thankful I woke up this early. I’m watching the sunrise. I’m completely enthralled by the way the sky seems torn by the early rays. Like it’s being ripped into shreds as the morning light comes in. The transition is so breathtaking…

I’m recalling how fixed things up. I’m really privileged to have met him.The best that we’ve come to realize is the truth; that we love each other and that this knowledge exists in the best vessels of timelessness. The soul.

March 18, 2001 - Sunday
Wuthering Heights is interesting work. I’m falling in love with it. My ex is currently texting me. I find it Weird. Blessing or not, it’s a load off my
mind. I though we were going to graduate without talking.

March 19, 2001 - Monday

Today’s our first 3-8PM practice for the graduation rites but I went to school earlier because I wanted to help the slideshow people with their work. At least I was able to contribute one song.

It always feels nice when you make someone smile.

Sir Aldryn was teaching us (the choir) the tune of the songs and I transferred from where I was sitting to the pew, softly singing Popeye the Sailor Man to the tune of Enter, Rejoice since they almost have the same tune. I didn’t know everybody was listening till I heard them chuckle and heard him stifle a laugh...

It's so comforting to care for somebody and to stop feels wrong...

March 20, 2001 - Tuesday
I went to 11's Member's house. They were talking about Miss Lorraine and eventually, Miss Nanette. I tried defending her but it was difficult since I was the only one who actually knew her, and was the only one trying. My frustration led me to leave early and to helpless tears...

But not before they confessed that they hated Embryo. Everybody hates Embryo. Everyone's entitled to his own opinion. I brought my radio to school to help the slide show people. But Jock asked me to leave, so did Ms. Nanette, both of whom didn’t know I was able to contribute something to the slide show. What really hurt me was the fact that I’ve just defended Ms. Nanette the best I could... Still I couldn’t blame her for brushing me off...

March 21, 2001 - Wednesday
We went to Bloomfield to visit Enigma. It was nice to see her again. The graduation practice last night was tiring but fun because Ms. Carol was eing silly. She kept singing along with the background songs and Freddie almost got us into trouble (we couldn’t help laughing) when he said that she was better at video kareras than videokes. Ms. Babes complimented us.

Actually, it was Ms. Nanette who paid the compliment so people naturally started raising their eyebrows because they assumed she was saying it because we were intimate with her.

“Very good, Embryology,” she added, “It came from Ms. Babes ha.” We kept snickering and muttering, “Mahal na tayo ni Ms. Babes!” The chorale practices were cool.

March 22, 2001 - Thursday
We rehearsed for the Baccalaureate Mass.
Er, he and I just found ourselves sitting beside each other. Lucky kept making me laugh because of a joke about a rocking chair and a grandma.

I just realized...

He said something...when we patched things up. He explained that we haven’t been talking because if we did, the whole class would erupt and start teasing us...Hmm. I’ve sent him several letters before we were finally able to talk. Then does that mean he wasn’t avoiding me because of the letters I gave him...? *Grin*

March 23, 2001 - Friday
We went to ATC today. Watched The Gift. It turned into a comedy because everyone in the theatre kept screaming at exactly the same time. I’ve received my UST acceptance letter and he thumbed my name on Ms. Lhou’s name list.

To Embryo: Crimson flowers dancing slowly to the cold night’s farewell...while the steady flame of amber leaves give life to the hearth of the earth. The echo of a heartbeat, feeding the hollowness of my spirit. This much I know. Wake and I love you. Like all the moments we’ve shared that were often counted by time’s endless mockery, this is the cause of my weeping. The beauty I’ve seen in your soul, Embryology, is the food for my long hunger. And you’ve fed me with the most satisfying fill...Your company. In the meantime, let us let the music flow past barriers that keep us apart. And the lyrics give the barren melody life...

March 24, 2001 - Saturday
Baccalaureate Mass. We had a good performance. The orchestra was impressive.

I don’t understand why anguish comes with goodbye...The class is going to separate in a few days...

More
Cussing Nurse was with him a while ago and they bumped into Ms. Nanette. Cussing Nurse said Ms. Nanette looked at him then remarked, “Ito. Magsasabi-sabi ng I love you, di naman panindigan ang sinasabi.”

...

March 25, 2001 - Sunday
Excerpt from Amanda Bradley:
‘…If we let our thoughts wander, they naturally turn to subjects that bring special pleasure, to warmhearted words and to generous deeds, to kindness we’ll always treasure. They turn to the moments when someone was there to hear us and answer a call, when someone went way beyond what was required, they said it was nothing at all…If we let our thoughts wander. Wherever they will, so often when they came to rest, it’s with people who’ve meant such a lot in our lives, the people we’ve come to love best.’

This was in a card and I thought it suited perfectly my affection and gratitude for Beautiful Clouds. I hope she liked it. It’s a great night tonight.

March 26, 2001 - Monday
Graduation.
The best part of the day was being with the class.
We’ll hold that moment in our mind for years to come…*Smile*

March 29, 2001 - Thursday
Last night.
Graduation Ball.
I wanted to dance with him. At least one song.
I waited.
But it didn’t happen.
   
Nothing made me feel like we’re parting right.
Even the beauty of the sky couldn't take away my sadness.

More
Beautiful Clouds left for her vacation. I’ll miss her terribly.

March 31, 2001 - Saturday
What if all of a sudden, we run out of things to say? What if, with just one snap of a finger, we can’t remember who we are or where we’re heading? When the rest of the world indulges in pleasant nonsense...we can’t even remember how to be part of the normality? I’m having sad thoughts because I miss the most important people in my life.

More
Rodya and I talked...and I think...he harbors feelings for me. He also said something that deeply moved me. He said during the retreat, since the boys had a room to themselves, they talked about my letters and how they found my letters profound and passionate. Thanks guys.

April 2, 2001 - Monday
We went to Tito Doc's place yesterday. I enjoyed it there. I felt like I was in a real home.

April 3, 2001 - Tuesday
Life at Kuya's house is difficult. We stayed at his place for a while because finally, we were evicted from the house we were renting and we asked him to accommodate us for the time being at least until I finish school. We try to bond but then no matter how much work we do around the house, especially Mom...we don’t feel comfortable. The room we stay in is overly stuffed with our things that we hardly have any place to move at all.

I’m tired. I miss my friends.

April 4, 2001 - Wednesday
I went to Choco's house today to send an e-mail to my Dad, asking for him to help us. Mom and I would be transferring to another place soon. Tenement, Taguig. The place where she grew up after Grandma, she and her siblings transferred to Manila from Ilocos. 402 Tenement Building, Western Bicutan, South Super Hi-Way, Taguig, Philippines.

My heart is breaking with the thought that here I am again, leaving people I love...

It’s a whole new world out there. A place where I’ll take my chances. But I’m ready. The Lord knows where I’m heading.

April 5, 2001 - Thursday
‘Fresh as the morning dew, your music swells in my heart. Have I known you all my life? You are a whole part. What such beauty could have lived his life, gliding along with the evolving dance. Without you, why have I survived? A mistake to be enhanced. Love is the light and melody from your glee. An angel in our lives is what I see. The passing of every day and night, we smile for a dream to come true. Nothing simpler than to be special and close to you…’

I wrote this when I was thirteen years old, for Michael Jackson...

*Sigh*

A Look Back: 2000 (Con't.)

I keep reading these entries in my previous journal and I can't help but feel extremely incredulous about them. How come things have gotten so complicated now? There's so much more fear, and yet there's an equal amount of disregard. My coping techniques aren't too great for me. But they're the only things that work in the meantime. I can't help but worry day and night about the kind of life I can provide for my son. God breathed him to life and this is all that I offer. *Sigh* Praying for better things soon...

February 22, 2001 – Thursday
Graduation draws near. We have been preparing. We will soon utter our farewells. If only I could choose to stay with them this way, I would. There is nothing more worth looking forward to than another day with the people who have captured my heart. But it will all end soon…while the birth of a new misery will begin.

February 24, 2001 – Saturday
I feel numb. My heart feels as if it has a mind of its own. I feel hollow. I just feel like after that night, after he said those words…he left me. And now I feel like I’m not myself anymore. A classmate said she caught him looking wistfully at me.

February 26, 2001 – Monday
I’ve been thinking and I realized that there are so many things I feel sorry for. I let them see the real me through this journal. And somehow, when they (Poet, Choco and Beautiful Clouds) read this, they were moved. The thing is, I wish I could move his feelings the way I moved them. I was sitting beside Choco a while ago and I was trying to refrain from crying as I explained how I’m slowly dying…draining, as she said. She seemed shocked when I told her that I gave him a copy of my journal. She said, “What?! Why?! Why did you do that? You opened your whole heart to him!”

I wrote a collection of my thoughts about him and showed it to Choco. After reading it, she said it was profound and touching. She set me free and I cried. This pain of not being able to talk to him anymore is too difficult that I feel like the only choice I have is to die inwardly. Then maybe when I’m finally numb, I wouldn’t hurt.

He agreed to talk. Through the help of Beautiful Clouds, he agreed. I’m really glad I have her for a friend. She’s the one who’s keeping me from falling apart. She’s truly one in a million, always patient and attentive. I hope she also finds me an equally good friend so that I might be worth her company. If not for her, I’m not sure whether I would still have enough healthy bones in my hands.

February 27, 2001 – Tuesday
He watched Miss Saigon with Choco and Freddie Prince. Choco kept calling me but I left my phone at the house while I scouted for a gown for the graduation ball. When I called her up, she said she was very irritated with me because she was supposed to give the extra ticket (from him) to me but since I was unavailable, she gave it to Freddie. I got lost on my way to a classmate’s house. It was so dark. I can’t believe I left my phone. Out of frustration, I cried and cried until I was so exhausted I fell asleep.

February 28, 2001 – Wednesday
We talked for a brief moment. He asked my why I wasn’t able to join them. I apologized and explained that I left my phone in the house when I was scouting for a gown for the Grad Ball. He frowned and said that the musical was much better.

March 1, 2001 – Thursday
The sky was breathtaking today. My having admitted the truth was not an effort to ask more of what I have now. It was only a humble plea to ask him to stay the same because he was loved that way. Maybe it was wrong but I couldn’t live my life the same way again if I didn’t gather enough courage and told him that I cared…High for the day: I saw a shooting star. :)

March 3, 2001 - Saturday
2:00 AM
There are so many things that life has to offer. Pain, love, laughter, death, disease, pleasure, happiness…We’ve got our whole lives to experience all of these…Yet to live with regrets…

When we live in fear, we become blinded by our insecurities, doubts and endless questions that that we don’t realize…we’re slowly wasting our lives away.

March 4, 2001 – Sunday
12:13 AM
We went to UST. Doe-eyed, Chinky Eyes, Gorgeous, Acoustic Guy, Poet and Cussing Nurse. Doe-eyed passed Behavioral Science and we were both looking for our schedule in the College of Arts and Letters. I passed Communication Arts. I didn’t pass my first choice, which was a blessing in disguise because I liked my second choice better. I was worried for Poet. He said that he hasn’t passed anything yet. We went to our friend’s place and had a great time. She took us to the park. It was great looking at the stars and indulging in the sky’s mystery and enchantment. But they seemed as if they were fewer. Hmm. I guess it’s just me. Poet’s feeling better. I hope he realizes that God has a purpose for everything.

He’s wait-listed. I texted him a while ago through Gorgeous’ phone. After 3 minutes, he called her up, asking where we were. Good night, Pablo Neruda.

March 5, 2001 - Monday
I went to Choco’s place to computerize the write-ups. And I honestly don’t know how else life can be if I never met her. She’s the friend I can never do without. Ms. Babes said something about Embryo being the most difficult people. Yeah, right.

March 6, 2001 – Tuesday
He’s been paying attention to me all day but sadly, I don’t feel the sincerity. It’s more like we’re putting our masks on to avoid being teased. I’m planning to talk to him on Friday. God help me. I don’t need him to tell me what I want to hear. I just need to get the right words out.

Early Morn and Smarty said that poetic license is not applicable to the thing they were doing (…Er, I forgot what they were doing at the time) because they said it’s not poetry. They’re right. Then again, I have a different belief. Life itself is poetry in motion. Every word, every gesture, every emotion makes up poetry. People become poets and are able to utilize words to define poetry and create poems because they see life the way everybody else does, but at the same time, from a completely different perspective. I wrote Beautiful Clouds a letter. And I made her sad with my profundity.

I’m a harbinger of sorrow. I apologized to her and she said it was okay, adding she was amazed by my talent of moving people. And I said, smiling sadly, “Like Neruda?” She looked at me and said, “No…better.” Coming from her, the compliment really blew me away. I borrowed Poet’s book and copied two of the most touching pieces.

Tonight I Can Write      /Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, “The night is shattered
And the blue stars shiver in the distance.”
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer loved her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer.
And these the last verses that I write for her.


LXX                                          /E. E. Cummings

Here is the ocean, this is moonlight: say
That both precisely beyond either were-
So in darkness ourselves go, mind in mind

Which is thrilling least of all (for love’s
Secret supremely clothes herself with day)
I mean, should any curious dawn discuss
Our mingling spirits, you would disappear
Unreally; as this planet (understand)

Forgets the entire and perpetual sea

-But if yourself consider wonderful
That you (how luminous) life toward twilight will
Dissolve reintegrate beckon through me,
I think it is less wonderful than this

Only by you my heart always moves

See? Everything in itself is poetry. The words only describe the form but poetry can exist without words.

I want to tell him that I love him. What difference does it make, having said I love you and simply feeling it...or loving you but never having said it? I may bring you to smile your warmest smiles, or be there for you in everything, or do you favors, or be a good companion. All I had to offer was measly but well-meant. All I can offer now are memories. Hoping against hope you’ll remember them despite the fact that you have forgotten me.

March 8, 2001 - Thursday
Today’s the second day of exams. Soon all our headaches would be over. And the party would begin. Can you believe this funny incident? I handed him the write-up, which was actually assigned to him (but he asked me to do).
“Here,” I said, handing it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, smiling.
“The write-up,” I answered, still holding the document, “Do I type this or do you?” I was getting impatient because I had a hundred different things to finish. With this lopsided grin, he looked at me and said solemnly, “I do.”

Flash of another scene with the same reply. The agony of stifling a laugh.

I’ve finished writing my farewell letters. I hope I can reach out to them through the letters. My mind’s not absorbing stuff in Physics. What the crap. I’m trying my best anyway, that’s what counts the most. I wonder if we’ll talk on Friday. If we don’t, I honestly don’t know what to do. Whatever God wills to happen, happens. I only wish I knew a bit of where it’s heading. An old path? Or new road?

A Look Back: 2000 (Con't)

Again in the room with the sunlight streaming in through the windows, making pretty patterns across the floor. So few people appreciate the beauty of small things like these. This is God's beauty, masked. I wish I can travel right now. Somewhere far and near. Be able to put distance between home and myself, to want to come home even more. Maybe I'll do it later this week. In the meantime, more flashbacks... My favorite part of the past...

February 16, 2001 - Friday

Today was a great day! I WON! 1st place in the Science Week Writing Contest.The mechanics were we were to write to an imaginary person that we loved using scientific terms. You can just imagine how this was a timely opportunity in my life. I didn't even have to pretend. I only had to express how I felt and, er, look up scientific words to substitute my melodramatic ones. I wasn't even listening when they announced the winners. Someone had to yell my name in my ear. Almost everyone in the class joined the contest. And the surprise was clear on everyone's face when my name was announced. However, when I walked up the stage, only one face stood out among the hundred.

His.

He was the reason I won. I poured out my heart in that letter, which I made for him. The first prize was a huge Toblerone bar and an exemption from a Physics quiz. Not bad. I felt proud of myself for having finally contributed to the class awards, something I had achieved on my own. When the class finally went inside the classroom, our adviser, who handed me my prize, congratulated me again and in front of everyone, said, "Ang ganda ng letter ni Shai. Parang talagang damang-dama yung feelings ng writer." Everyone squealed with impish delight as they looked at him and me from opposite ends of the room. Aside from this, we were able to present a DARN GREAT SHOW!

Although tensions were running high before the presentation, we fed on the chaos and were able to transform it to palpable energy. The make-up and special effects were fantastic! Although I was temporarily blinded (by the black paint on my face and my hair felt like a nest for nurturing vultures), I enjoyed the day. What made me really lose concentration was when he asked me to put the make-up on him (he needed to look like a tattered ghoul). I was literally touching his face and I knew he was aware of the tremor in my hands but he was just grinning there the entire time, watching me like he did before. I'm happy and sad at the same time. Because I know, same as everyone does, that it's our last chance of working together.

February 19, 2001 - Monday

Rebirth. Retreat.

I woke up with the eagerness of a fool. Of someone who was determined to make amends. Of someone who wanted to grasp the opportunities that came only once in a lifetime. The day started fine. We arrived at school and were, as usual, noisy and chaotic as we bombarded the latecomers with retreat letters. Then...he stepped into the room. I waited for him to settle his things first. Then I approached him and handed him my letter. He beamed and thanked me. And as I walked away from him, I realized. The loneliness in me was too enormous, it was eating me up. Almost everyone received his letters. There were a few who didn't because he wasn't finished writing. He only continued to write on the bus. For some reason, I couldn't help but cry on the bus, grief-stricken with pain. Everything was happening the way I hadn't planned it to. I was crying also because a greated part of me remained unanswered when I asked God, Why me? I was determined to find answers during the retreat.

After a short orientation upon arriving (the place, by the way, was absolutely fascinating, with the fog, the gazebos, the hills, the rain, etc.)  we went to our rooms and as soon as I entered, my friends started to tease me. Because they received his letters. All of which contained I LOVE YOU's. One of them said she understood and concluded that perhaps the reason why I haven't gotten a letter from him was because he didn't want to mislead me. If he'd be writing me a letter, he would've been compelled to write 'I love you' to me also since he wrote it to every girl. I fell quiet but nodded, agreeing with her. It didn't bother me anymore. In my mind, I justified his reasons for not writing me.I knew it was a normal reaction on his part. I've made a couple of mistake before he came into my life and I was used to that kind of reaction. When I tell someone I love him, he begins to feel awkward and then he starts avoiding me. His reaction was no different from those before him. I retreated further into my silence and my prayers.

There were lots of activities (and food). The retreat was fun. Except that it was also a struggle to keep quiet and behave. Embryology isn't a keep quiet and behave class. We've too much energy and wit to just sit around and keep quiet. Then something strange happened. As the class slowly filed out of the orientation room for another break, and the room was almost empty...he approached me. He gave me a piece of folded paper. I looked at him, curious. As if to answer my curiosity, he simply smiled then walked off. I stayed in the empty room, sat down and slowly unfolded the letter. As I began to read it, I felt like my heart was skipping beats. The letter was modest. Nice. And at the bottom, written in a considerable size, was the ubiquitous I love you. Again. It caught me off-guard. I hadn't expected to receive anything. After telling him the truth about how I felt, I wasn't foolish enough to hope he could forgive me for my feelings. I wasn't naive to hope he could even love me. But the letter said he did. He loved me. As a friend or something else, I didn't know. And I didn't care. The thought that he loved me at all was more than enough.

After reading, I made up my mind to confront him. I wanted to let him know about how much I was hurting from being so near and yet feeling so distant. Night fell. The entire class gathered in a circle, some of us sitting on the floor, others sitting on chairs. All of us, waiting for the first one to speak. It was an open forum. Our two teachers were there (the other teacher was our very own adviser). He and I sat exactly opposite of each other, he on the floor and me on the couch. I didn't care anymore if people were watching us and anticipating what we had to say because whether we liked it or not, we had to speak individually. I continued to gaze at him as he played with the wax of the candle burning serenely in the middle of the group, watched as the soft, yellow light fell on his hair and illuminated his face. There was something about the way he simply sat there, his shoulders hunched, tenderly picking the wax off from the melting candle...

The group laughed several times from some of our classmates' revelation. Then my heart began to pound so hard that I could almost hear it drumming in my ears. It was his turn to speak.

I prayed desperately that he wouldn't mention anything about me, that he wouldn't speak my name and in front of everyone, declare that he was sorry he led me on and that I fell for him. But it didn't happen. He spoke and resorted to tears. He said he was sorry he couldn't spend more time with us because we were all graduating in a few months and probably would never have another production again. He explained why he cried after our INFERNO performance and said he couldn't believe it was our last time working altogether. When he called out Buffy's name, I wanted to run out of the room. If I could only write down my trail of thoughts then, (What are you doing?! Why are you addressing us one by one?! You're not letting me escape this, are you?! Is this really happening?! Maybe if I hide from his line of sight, he'll forget I'm here and just pass me by like the angel of death!!) I couldn't sit still. I didn't want everyone's sympathy when he apologizes.

Outside my thoughts, I found everyone bursting into laughter because of something he said. It appears he asked Buffy if she remembers the time she asked him if he was angry with her and he said no. Buffy nodded. He grinned and said, "Ang totoo kasi nun, galit ako sa yo eh." Everyone began to laugh because of what he said and because he looked funny when he said it. I shook my head, smiling to myself, finding that somehow, the humor made me feel a little bit comfortable. Maybe this was okay after all. It couldn't possibly hurt so much. Maybe it would be just like an insect bite or a bee sting.Then, as if the entire universe suddenly zoomed in that dark, little room, he called me name...

"...Shai."

His voice sounded as if it called me from another astral plane. I swear I could hear everyone hold his breath, anticipating what he would say next. A profound silence settled and it felt as if everyone else in the room disappeared and the only one left were he and I...with just the glowing candle separating the two of us. I bowed my head, refusing to look at him, preparing myself for the blow of what he might say. But he didn't say what I expected. He just said what I wanted so much to hear.

"...I love you."

There was a poignant sweetness in his voice when he said it. Within a moment, I buried my face in my hands, tears of joy streaming down my face. The silence deepened for another five seconds, then the reality of what he said hit everyone. The whole room erupted with shrieks, squeals, screams and people exclaiming excitedly, "Sinagot na ni >>>> si Shai!"

My friends began rushing towards me, greeting me with "Congratulations!" and "I told you so!" Suddenly, a nun burst into the room and demanded order, telling us we ought to be ashamed of ourselves while everyone started to explain in unison and in unconvincing tones, that we screamed because we saw a ghost, a cockroach, there was thunder and lightning flash outside the windows, someone peed, somebody's butt was grabbed, and lots more, obviously deviating from the truth.

I found myself crying. Though I prepared myself to accept his rejection, in my heart of hearts, I had prayed to hear him say those exact words. And he did. But I couldn't understand whether he loved me as a friend or more than a friend. I reckon he said what he said primarily because of Freddie Prince's recollection poem. Nevertheless, I'm more than overwhelmed to hear him say what he said and to know that he felt that way. But now everything has changed. Nothing stays the same. Even the petals from the rose he gave me will wither and die. But the love that he brought to life never will.

A Dialogue

S. I walk these dusty streets and keep wondering to myself , "what am I doing here, at this hour, so distant from everything else in my life that I've come to know and love?" The tears flow incessantly, like the morning fog that greets my face with its unhappy hello. My head seems clear enough to discern what is happening. Yet the passion to seek for a reason to live is too powerful to overcome. I find myself staring at my reflection in the puddles, wondering what caused this to go on for so long. As unpredictable as gusts of wind are in a quick rise to temper. Words fail me. The complexity of the situation baffles me. It is as puzzling as sleeping through several days and waking up to the darkness, not knowing whether the dark can be alluded to late evening or early morn. Speak to me. Surely you are of a more sound mind than I am at this very moment.

 

C. I have been your companion for the longest time. Your need to escape gave birth to my coming to being. You know we are not welcome. Or we are but it is at home. Is the evening so seductive you choose to dance under the moonlight in waves of grief and sorrow? Under the witnessing stars you skewer your heart with a world you have created, ghastly and unfathomable? I fear for you, dearest. When you plunge into your silence, even I cannot read your thoughts, cannot predict what will happen next. Love is essential for both of us to continue, and do you not find it where your heart is? For people say, home is where the heart is. Therefore, trek on your way home. Find love, and find peace.

 

S. Complete unrest. Surely there must be something more than what I have been labeled to do? Don't you think there is something more for you, too? And what of these brutal acts in the name of love?

 

C. What is love? Do you know that love does not always come with pain? Love can be a refreshing fount from God's own heart.

S. I have been here too long to know their partnership cannot be corroded with hope for good things to come. The two are inseparable.

 

C. I can stand here or lie down, choose which you prefer, and argue with you on these terms only you know you can win yourself. I look at you and you seem like an angel, fallen from the Heavens above. You still have your wings, and can fly, then why choose to roam the earth with truths that hurt?

S. Isn't there also grace in truth?

 

C. There is. What is your truth? Tell me. Is it your journey south and north, searching for something you have had all along? Is it facing east to the sun expecting its good and reliable appearance, or west where it's sure to bid its farewell? Does it complete you to sleep, wake and eat alone? Is it the steady beating of a slumbering heart parallel to your own? Is it the rain that the soft ground worships or the smiles of the sun to the moon? What is your truth? Does despair come hand in hand with happiness? Do you love to hope or hope to love in the ajax of these circumstances? Tell me.

S. The truth is you will not save me with your arguments. My loneliness is as good as yours. What I do is for you, too. I cannot recreate love without your consent.

C. The love you recreate is a farce.

S. Say what you want.

C. Tell me the truth.

S. You are not my savior.

C. And why is that?

S. Because you and I...we are one.