solitaire.

Today is very much like every ordinary day. I woke up, grumpily, to an early start, because he was leaving for work early. It’s a rainy day. A very rainy day. I planned on sleeping in, but I crossed that out as soon as I felt a twinge of guilt and shame upon realization that he was up early, regardless of the “bed weather”. For him, as with everybody else, to those in the workforce or to household members at that, life must go on; weather nor sickness should never stand in their way lest they end up penniless, unable to provide for their families.

On the other end of the spectrum was me, admittedly, I knew nothing else but to study and to think and, lately, occasionally, socialize. Whereas most people my age were earning their own money, providing for their families or splurging on their whims, I am caught in my abstract world of ideals, principles, and plans. At this point, I know very well that the twinge has turned from a mere pang to a disturbing, throbbing pain.

I have always contemplated on what my strengths and weaknesses are, sometimes even daring to conquer the latter. Several times, I have attempted to be the doer instead of the thinker, but I end up just as lost and confused as before I even bothered to take a step. I can very much identify with certain types of people who end up trapped in their own shells of sympathy, not knowing how to reach out, even if we wanted so much to lend a hand.

The pain intensified into a general feeling of malaise, as I watched current events that the media has skillfully delivered to each doorstep. Hearing about calamities, financial shortage, criminals running amuck, and the perception of a country with a portion of its populace invaded by amoral souls caused me to simply, sincerely, shed a tear. I was racked with guilt, I guess. Usual “if only’s” stream my consciousness, but I knew that these are futile.

I wrote so I can remind myself of today, such that, in the next succeeding waking hours in my life, I might be able to find answers or at least to offer some, not only to my aching emotions, but also that of others’.

Last night, on my way home from class, an old lady boarded the jeepney that I was riding. Before she rode the jeepney, she asked if it was the jeep going to Magsaysay, and I, along with the other passengers, responded yes. I guess I caught her attention because the moment she found a seat across me, she kept staring at me, smiling.

My books further caught her attention and she asked, “Commerce?”

Realizing that she was referring to my course, I answered, “Law po”.

Then she began asking about our night classes and stuff about the said field of study. On the course of things, she suddenly mentioned that, “You know, you cannot pass the bar exams only out of intelligence. You still need God.” Slowly, she started narrating about Moses and the lady judges that were mentioned in the Bible. She kept repeating, “You won’t pass the bar without Jesus, dear, believe me. You cannot remember all the laws of the Philippine Islands. You need prayer and faith.”

My cynicism almost kicked in, thinking that she was one of those people who preached in public transportation vehicles. But something in my mind and instinct kept telling me not to doubt what she is saying.

Then the astounding part happened. She said, ” You know your plans may not be what God plans for you. I do not know anything about you. I do not know about your life story. Maybe you love someone and he doesn’t love you, but you hope that he does. One thing is for sure, though, God loves you. Read the Bible, dear, it’s there.”

I wanted to shake my head in disbelief, but I kept nodding like a robot. I found absolute truth in the stuff she said. She does not look like an old lady who has gone senile. From the way she dressed and spoke, she seemed like an educated person who came from a well-off family.

I got off the jeep and headed home. She alighted the jeep a few meters away from where I did. I didn’t look back, I kept recalling the entire incident.

She spoke using Bicolano dialect and the English language. She kept quoting stories from the Bible. She was dressed decently, kept staring, and smiled serenely at me.

And I believed every word she said.

I have no guts to explain,

nor audacity to remain

as elusive as sunlight

in a world of rain.

I am bound by something,

inevitably surprising

all I know is an upcoming

unforeseeable beginning.

I am in no haste,

but I am cautiously swift

to regain sanity,

to control my wit.

In time I will know,

in time you will see.

For now I keep mum,

let the world speculate on me.

I honestly don’t know what I am doing—-trying to articulate what has transpired—-all I know is my fingers keep typing to the beat of nothing.

More than a writer’s block, I feel like my brain, body and spirit have all conspired to keep my mouth shut, and hinder me from telling this tale, yet I have to give in to this urge to narrate, before the memories become totally obliterated and unrecoverable.

She just turned 18 and he was 20 years of age, with a quick kiss, the story begins. He never liked her, the weakling, geeky, ugly duckling, but she dreamed of being with someone as handsome, smart and charming as he is. It was never a secret that she pursued him. Every day, since that kiss, she would visit him, with a banana cue on one hand and buko juice on the other, hoping he’d like her for being thoughtful and caring. She would text sweet nothings, until, finally, he’d say yes, on that eventful evening of May 16th.

She was used to making the first move, being the kid who grew up envious of her classmates whose suitors lined up. Aggressive, that was what she was known for. He was an introvert, spent most of his time alone, probably building his own view of people and the world behind the walls he  put up. To an almost apparent extent, they were extreme opposites. But she fell in love with him, and he said, eventually, he did fall for her too.

The first year was nirvana to her. Like opium, he slowly invaded her control, until she was left defenseless, obsessed. Inside the liberal walls of the campus, they built a love nest, where her passion for the relationship and their future fueled her every domestic act. It was real life, husband-and-wife-like. Morals set aside.

Her first valentine’s day with him almost felt like a fairy tale. It was as if she was dreaming, but the cake, the serenade, the love letter and the date was real. Finally, God granted her wish. The nobody is now someone’s somebody.

Graduation day for him came,  and she knew it was the best day of his life. Then he started to work, while she remained studying, anxious of getting out of the academe, not to get a shot at the corporate world, but to be with him. At this point, it was no longer her dream to be that lady who walks around courtrooms, appearing as counsel before trials, and winning cases. By then, she had morphed into the daydreaming hopeless romantic, wishing for nothing but a family. It was not a second-rate dream for her, it was the perfect and sensible thing to expect when you know you have found the perfect man for you.

Then it was her turn to wear the toga, and she leaped at the onset of a job opportunity, but lost it as quickly as she earned it. Somehow, the lady has become sickly and feeble, nevertheless, she was determined to make things work. He, on the other hand, was slowly climbing up the corporate ladder of success. Promotions came, one after the other. But he kept his feet grounded. He gave back, to his family, to the people who helped him. He was the most generous person one could ever meet. All the more reason to love him, she thought.

While he gained popularity and success, she stood in the shadows, quietly rejoicing at his triumph. It would be hypocritical if it wasn’t told that she did felt a twinge of envy, that she did not sink into a terrible depression, that things were in discord between them for a lot of times. But she contented herself with the thought that she chose and will always choose to prioritize people and relationships over anything else mundane. 

Trials, change, and happy days marked the span of four years, and by then, another move was about to overturn things. Up in the cold place of Caleruega, the question she was dying to hear was finally blurted out. And the answer was very clear, embellished by a dazzling ring. Just like everything else in the relationship, things went on so fast a pace, and ended in a sudden and devastating stop.

Yet, perhaps, the most painful of them all  was this year: the fifth year. Just when you thought a house filled with stuff that you bought for yourselves and a couple madly in love would constitute a home, the reverse took place. It was quasi-marital bliss during the first few months, the house felt like newlyweds inhabited it. Everything seemed in place. She was even back in law school, in preparation of a much brighter future with him. Sure, there were the occasional quarrels, but that was normal, right?

But time is such a defining entity. Instead of growing stronger together, they finally grew apart. Hence, I write today. 

I want to let him know that I admit my share of mistakes and I am deeply sorry for every pain that I may have caused him, intentional or not, I apologize. I pray for God to melt his now cold heart and make him realize as well that he has his misgivings too. That, at the end of the day, we will always be having problems, disagreements, and arguments because we both are imperfect human beings. What matters is how we can always forgive and love and accept each other. 

But this is no longer within my control. God knows how I fought so hard for him, for us. And I know he struggled too. Yet, we can only do so much, for our human strength makes us vulnerable to giving up.

For now, let me bid him goodbye in the most graceful manner I can:

I pause to think of farewell words,

instead, tears come streaming.

Perhaps the heart knows, 

the inevitable has come.

Forgiveness, acceptance, gratitude,

these gifts I have received from you.

Today, I reciprocate,

with an altruistic heart.

I refuse to say goodbye,

because I still cannot let go.

Not yet, not now,

maybe someday

when time has healed me.

Until we meet again.

I felt the need to start typing something for no apparent reason. All I know is that, I need to be a slave to my fingertips and follow the firing neurons in my head—-shooting in every direction—-as if it’s my final blog entry that I will write.

Really, I have nothing to say. But my mind keeps rumbling, urging me to spill whatever it is that I can say. True enough, I just might have a thing or two to share. Maybe even more, but I won’t create a theme for this entry, unlike my other entries where I obsessively attempt to write something in line with a certain title,  theme or what have you.

Today, I simply write, just because I want to. And yes, as I always say (because I happen to have so many activities in this quasi-busy life of mine that I end up not harnessing this writing skill of mine), it has been yet another long time since I wrote.

In fact, it has been that long that a lot of things have taken place in between:

-I quit fb

-I started being semi-active in twitter

-I finally got a chance to live the “dangerous life” I’ve always avoided IN ONE NIGHT

-I formed conclusions and realizations, came across newfound principles inside this gray matter of mine 

-I grew stronger as a person

All these in a certain span of time between my last tumblr entry, and this post. And, yes, it may seem so shallow but, yeah, these things are worthy of being mentioned, after all this is my blog entry.

Thing is,despite all these and other progress in my life, I still feel incomplete, immature even.  Although I hear compliments from people regarding certain aspects of my life and personality, I still feel inadequate, like I am being too complacent and lazy and procrastinating a lot. I want to do a lot of things, I wanna be “someone” but I haven’t figured out who that someone is. Sure, I am in law school and I know, by God’s grace, that I’ll be having a professional title attached to my name in a matter of four years. But that is not the only goal I have. I am raring to go and be successful, yet, truth is, I have no concrete view of that destination.

One good thing that happened over the past few weeks is that I have learned how to get rid of the drama and the tears and the intermittent nostalgia and flare-ups. Which is why I can blog about these stuff without a hint of sadness nor depression. I just write about it, period. Not that I reduce every single experience into phrases and words and sentences of each kind, instead, I believe I have learned how to cope, slowly. 

So, despite a complete blunder that I think I am facing, I just go on with my life. Not emotionless, but definitely not emotion-driven. I just hope I stay that way, for good.

Why am I saying all this? No reason. 

I told you, I wrote,  just because I felt like it.

60%. trash talker. 40%. sweet talker. 

100% assumption.

-1 on volition.

Breakfast. Dropped off mom at the bus terminal. Centro. Walis tambo. Pasalubong. DVD. Wheat bread+spam+egg+mayo+cheese=lunch. Nap. Confirmed mom got back to Lola’s safely. Airport re: Syd’s 4pm flight to Manila. Tried to watch DVD bought; realized I got ripped off after a gazillion attempts of trying to play it on my laptop. Supposed to be preppin’ for my first day tomorrow, but, as always, I can’t breathe, lest I hear Syd’s voice and know he had a safe flight. Alone again, naturally.

Nais kong bumalik 

sa araw na iyon. 

Sa shortcut sa gilid ng Math building, 

at bawiin ang panahon.

Nais kong hatakin

pabalik ang oras,

nang una kong nagisnan 

ang iyong gilas.

Malinaw ang imahe,

dinig ko pa ang tawa.

Sa may corridor ng Biosci,

sa kalsada malapit sa Vega.

Naaalala mo ba?

Lingon pa.