Fragments

These are only fragments. Stories that have not taken shape. Thoughts that failed to live. Cycles that started but never ended. 

Been so out of focus on writing lately so I guess these are episodic manifestations that I am still a writer.


Backstage (Impromptu)

Y: So what's next after your disappearance?

X: Why do you have to ask that question? We both know that I can either leave memories of love or destruction depending on my mood and the kind of audience I have.

Y: Okay...and what does your mood tell you about our audience?

X: Deary, answering your questions now'll just ruin the surprise. Just watch and enjoy the fireworks. Or, should I say, just the fire and everything that'll burn with it. Now give me my cape and wear your suit. We'll start the final act. 


And This Happens Most of The Time

GF: *chatters* *chatters* *chatters*

BF: *nods absentmindedly*

GF: Are you even listening to me?

BF: *raises an eyebrow*

GF: *pauses* *throws her purse* I just hate it when people do not listen to me because, for the record, I try not to fake listening whenever someone's talking. For me, regardless of how you look like or your status, or your grammar I will still try my very best to listen to what you have to say because that was what I was taught so please do the same thing to me, will you?

BF: Babe, I am a sentient being. I can't easily shut off my senses or feign comatose at my own will so yes, I have been listening to you it's just that when you walked into the room, you have filled this place with so much beauty and grace and elegance. Please understand that guys like me have short attention spans--and nobody taught us to be like that. It's probably an evolutionary glitch. So, when you started talking I was not able to focus because, geez, I was stunned by your presence.

GF: Aw, that's really sweet. Come here babe. So, because you've been listening to me and you are the sweetest guy on earth, you'll get me one of those...

BF: *pretends to check his wristwatch* Woooh! I have a basketball game and I am late. See you later, babe. Got to go.  

Breakfast
(disclaimer: not me and my mom.)

Mom: I have a strong feeling that you are enraged again for not getting what you want, my son. Coffee?

Son: Am I that obvious? Yes, with less cream this time. Hmm, the bacon is well toasted. Love it.

Mom: Just like what you asked for. Well, if I were just one of your friends, I would not have the slightest idea that you are concocting another mischief. But that's not the case. I am your mother. I can read your sighs, your smiles, your silences. I have somewhat created a mental encyclopedia of your moods and pet peeves. You have a mastered the art of deception so well but your skills won't work on me. So, tell me, what's bothering you?

Son: Why do you have to ask? I thought you already know everything about me? I want more hash browns please.

Mom: Here. I have reserved the toasted ones for you. Dear, silly me! Oh well, whatever you are planning to do just make sure that there will not be too much bloodshed and tears. I am too old and weary of cleaning up your mess and please spare those who need to be spared. Gain control of your self. You're a grown man now.

Son: Wow, thanks Mom. Really appreciate it. I'll still be squeaky clean after everything. Promise. I'll finish my sandwich on my way to work. Got to go.
 

Whirlwind Season

While some are either brewing thoughts about the apocalypse or busy collecting stickers, some are concocting word wars over coffee, health magazines, damp sneakers, and old planners.
 
Inside a coffee shop, Hunky Jerk approached Guy Writer who was very busy browsing the pages of a classic novel.

"Hey hot nerd! I am a lover of words too but if there's one word that I hate, it would probably be this word: waiting. Two syllables, three vowels, three consonants- the perfect ingredient to bring out the devil in me. I easily get what I want and because I want you, I know that I can easily get you. Let's get outta here and go somewhere. Can't wait to show you the poetry underneath my shirt."

Guy Writer paused before he drank his coffee. He looked at Hunky Jerk with wide eyes and knitted eyebrows then, he gradually smirked. 

"Is that so? That's funny. I am a lover of words too and I think..." Guy Writer paused for a very long time as if he just released a brain fart that could stink for an eternity.
 
"What?! You think what?"



Guy Writer  just stared blankly into space then looked at his laptop then to his cellphone then to Hunky Jerk. Hunky Jerk scratched the back of his head then eventually said:
 
"What? You know what, I am starting to think that you are trying to piss me off. Well, you've done it bro. I'm gonna bounce outta here."
 
"Wait...I've something to say..."
 
"For the effin' nth time, what is it?"
 
"I was about to say that I think I like you but then I changed my mind. You know, I just realized that I hate the word "impatience". Five vowels, five consonants, three syllables-the only recipe to remind me that sometimes, I can be a bitch. Bye. And oh, please learn to wait. "




Guy Writer scribbled something on his coffee tumbler, gathered his stuff,and left.
Hunky Jerk took Guy Writer's seat and comfortably leaned his back. He stayed for about an hour but before he left, he saw Guy Writer's empty tumbler on top of the table. Hunky Jerk picked it and took a closer look at it. He noticed Guy Writer's note and it said: 

I've been waiting for someone like you, jerk. Here's my no: 09*********. 

Whether it's a prank, an innocent offer of friendship or a late and unnoticed notice to hook up, it made Hunky Jerk smile.

Fortunate Accidents

my mom forgot to log out from facebook after using my lappy so when i tried to access my fb account, i accidentally accessed her profile instead. read: i did not hack her account. she just forgot to log out so i took advanta...i mean, i made the most out of the situation. anyway, my mom's kinda prude and prissy so there's really nothing juicy when i checked her profile activity. again, read: i didn't check her messages. 

as i was saying there's really nothing fascinating or intriguing about her posts (geez, she doesn't even have a lot of posts/status updates). however, she's facebook friends with most of our relatives who i opted not to add as friends on fb for the mere reason that i don't want them to meddle with my life. sounded a bit mean there but that's true. i've had that weird cyber fishbowl feeling when i still had friendster. i don't want them to wreck my online social life for the 2nd time and so, again, i took the liberty to facebook-stalk my relatives (and my sisters. haha). here's what i realized:

*i've grown distant from my guy cousins who treated me as their least favorite cousin when we were younger because of my early penchant for books and nature over counter strike and wwf. i feel like if ever there's a family reunion, i will still be the outcast in the bunch of boys because first, i don't have or i've never had girlfriend quarrel stories or wifey anecdotes to share and two, i am not yet suffering from hair loss. peace. for the record, my guy cousins are really awesome.

*my girl cousins are now moms and they have beautiful kids but i have no intention of befriending them or their husbands or my nieces and nephews. i've sensed too much family drama and domestic divaness on their posts. my newsfeed is too hip and vibrant (thanks to my few fb friends) and i want to keep it that way. again, peace. my girl cousins are really caring and sweet.

*my uncles and aunts are all too busy to check facebook and update their posts so i'd rather give the fb friend space to some friends who can regularly update their status. besides, my aunts and uncles may be silent on fb but probably when they see me i will hear a lot of rants and raves from them about random topics that i am clueless about. 

*my sisters are claiming that they are extreme opposites but there's just too much glaring similarities in all of their posts. one way or another, they've been fangirling the same kpop stars. they are both grade-conscious and they won't miss the opportunity to...ehem...brag their academic achievements. though they're both wonderful, they don't have boyfie posts or pics. matter of fact, they have bullied some boys who attempted to be "a lil closer" to them. most of their posts have exclamation marks for reasons that i can't explain.  some of their posts are in jejenese. all of their selfie shots were taken using my phone and edited using camera360. but the best thing about them is that they show care for each other even on facebook. like, there was one time my younger sister posted a selfie and my youngest sister was quick in liking the pic and posting this comment: "ate, malaki ilong mo dito tsaka halata yung pimple marks mo." the photo wasn't removed despite that comment. i guess it was because the pic gained a lot of likes. 

it was really hard for me to log out my mom's fb account because i felt like there's still a lot for me to discover through her profile. but i guess my guilt instinct signaled me to stop because i am technically committing a petty crime which is invasion of privacy. anyhow, there's one more thing that i have realized: over the years, i have grown and i have been alienated from my family not because they have pushed me away but because i have chosen to isolate myself to focus on self-improvement. so now, i think it's high time to make up for the lost years because even if i can add numerous facebook friends, follow a lot of people on instagram or tag random names on twitter, my relationship with them can never be like the one that i have with my family. my sisters will not unfriend me forever if they find out i have a boyfriend, my relatives will not unfollow me whenever i need urgent help, and most of all, my mom will not block me if there's just too much stress and drama going on. whatever my status is, my family will always be there until such time that i would need to log out.

sleepless saturday, fulfilling sunday :) 

pretext

Boy 1: Slow down. You don't have to rush.

Boy 2: I really have to leave. Move. I do not want anyone to notice.

Boy 1: Look, they don't know and they don't care. Here, let's share my umbrella.

Boy 2: I will go ahead. Do not call or text. Mom's checking my phone.

Boy 1: Wait.

Boy 2: What?

Boy 1: Please, for once, stop running away from things that can't harm or kill you.

Boy 2: (...)

Boy 1: Fine. That's what you're good at anyway. Running. Hiding.

Boy 2: I am not running away. I am keeping you safe. Both of us safe.

Boy 1: I didn't ask you to do that. Know what, I'd rather be with someone who's willing to take risks for me. Someone who can enjoy the rain with me. Go. Goodbye.

Pandora's Box

"i'm getting ready to scare the hell outta you cheating ex bf"

i woke up today realizing that my youngest sister is already fourteen years old. i didn't  feel bad because i am growing older but i felt sad when i thought of the fact that eventually, she'll have to transition from being a kid to an adult and she'll feel overwhelmed with her new responsibilities. one day, she'll find her first love, cherish it and feel all giddy great about it but it will end up as her first ever lost love too. she'll wake up to mornings filled with ambitions and dreams but she'll find out soon that ambitions can be elusive and at some point in her life, she'll have to mourn for some of her dead dreams.

as her only brother, i want to save her from all the nastiness that life has to inflict but i guess i can't play superman this time. although i am strong enough to strangle any guy who would dare to break her heart, i have to admit that i am not capable of keeping her under my absolute protection. she will always find a way to discover life and life will discover endless ways to antagonize her.

though i'm already stating what's obvious, i know that baby sisters can't be baby sisters forever but an older brother will always be compelled to be an older brother. i may not be the best go-to person when it comes to giving advice about make-up, fashion, boys, panaceas for heartaches and other girly stuff that i have no idea about but i have to act as a guru, wing man, ultimate best friend, and proxy dad rolled into one if things get too emotional and so out proportion.

being a brother to my growing sisters is an ordeal for me but just like the other challenges that life has given me, i am ready to face it with my fiery bring-it-on look with matching "victory is mine" (prints on black tee in screaming neons) shirt and combat boots.

but for now, i have to run to the nearest sari-sari store to buy...ehem...it's that time of the month for her. i guess this begins the test on my mettle as a big brother.

shout out to the brothers out there and for the little sisters, please don't grow up that fast :)

silver linings

I don’t want to sound like another twenty-something who’s having quarter life crisis attacks but the truth is, I think I am about to go through a lot of tough realizations about the things that I have achieved for the past 25 years of my existence. So I think, yes, this is the start of quarter life crisis—and I can’t seem to fight it. Fooling myself into thinking that I am okay does not work anymore so I guess I am left with no other option but to rant about it.

While there are a lot of things to be thankful for like my stable job as a trainer, my loving partner, my steady family, and the tons of books that  I have, I still feel like there’s an empty spot in my life that I may not be able to fill in no matter what I do. Ever since I graduated from college, I have been officially ordained as an adult and being an adult means great possibilities and added responsibilities. The first two years of my life as a grown-up has been so rewarding because unlike most of the people I know,  I have found a decent-paying job. While others are still waiting for better opportunities and frittering away time in the comforts of their home, sustaining on their meager adult allowance, I was earning more than what I was supposed to earn. Switching gadgets was done on a semi-quarterly basis, shopping for clothes was like ordering fast food, and my whims and needs were barely delineated because I can dictate which things will be my necessities for today and which will be classified as luxury for tomorrow. I thought that I was on top of everyone, that I finally have the chance to belittle those who have belittled me in the past because I am now taller than them in so many ways. Little did I know that I was the one who wasted too much time on my delusions of being great. Yes, I have achieved so much at an early age but I can’t feel the sense of my achievements because there are other people that I know who seemed as if they are just simply enjoying their lives. They didn’t cram for promotions, they did not struggle to meet monthly targets, and they had all the time in the world to write, take photos, and travel. I, on the other hand, have been too preoccupied with gathering accolades which only I could appreciate.  My twenty-something life has been spent too much on fulfilling responsibilities to the point of overlooking my possibilities.  

Irrational as it may seem but I felt like I have not been living my life to the fullest because I have been depriving myself of adventures and misadventures. I have been scared for years to explore and feel uncertainty. I have relied heavily on my planner and my tight budget. I did not follow my heart and I did not experience how it was like to wait for something that I think I truly deserve.  My art has been forsaken because my I allowed my profession to matter more than my passion. I have stopped learning about the world and instead I focused on knowing the little mundane things that will keep me afloat as an employee. Daily routines and heightened expectations of the pay day choked my imagination, severed my wanderlust, and confined my yearning for random creativity. Counting clock ins and clock outs has replaced my hobby of gazing at seats to count the names and numbers of strangers either seeking for love or sex. Balancing my budget became a habit to substitute my penchant for curlicues and jagged lines. Too much order in my life left a blank space that’s too difficult to conquer for my inner writer.     

Some may say that this is probably a phase and I will eventually get through this. Everything will soon be okay and all that blah but for someone like me who values the idea of planning and getting the answers that I need in a snap, this uncertainty scares me. It’s like waking every day and knowing your habits but doing things without a clear purpose. I can make myself believe that I still have the flaring artistic vibe but I think it’s too late for me to prove my mettle. For now, I will just wallow and expect that this too, shall pass.  

Symbiosis

A heartbreak is best indulged when it is fresh. The old memories of desire make it sweet while the thoughts of the future that will never happen give it a kick of bitterness. Anger adds a certain crisp to it while hopelessness makes it so creamy that it melts on your tongue like a slice of dark chocolate. My hunger to taste one’s heartbreak that night led me to him. After a late night stroll to feed on vague vagrant miseries, I decided to go to a Mcdonald’s store somewhere in Ortigas to satisfy my human hunger. When I saw him, his hair was disheveled, his eyes were puffy because of too much crying and he was trying to finish his cup of caramel sundae while stifling his own sobs. He looks so pathetic and that makes him vulnerable, I thought.  

“Are you okay?” I asked. It was very easy to approach young people and my craving was just too strong that I just want to be done with my business.

He responded with a blank stare, tears still rolling down his chinky eyes. My question sounded stupid and irrelevant. Of course, he does not look okay.

“I have noticed you crying. I am here to help, if you will allow me.”

That’s another lousy statement. I am not really good at starting conversations so I thought, if he will not respond then I can just scram and be another random weirdo for a random stranger or get what I need from him in the most drastic way I know. But the unpredictability of the situation gives me a lot of thrill so I waited for him to respond. With this kind of victim, patience plays a crucial part. My prey is just right under my nose so I must not make him feel my harshest attack to prevent him from escaping. Instead, the process should be like eating an orange: slowly exposing the succulent sweetness of the fruit with every pinch and peel.  

“How?”

Great, he did not even ask me who I am or where I am from or whether I am selling drugs. This conversation just got more interesting, I realized. I sat in front of him and tried not to smile in a furtive way like what I usually do before I take my victim by surprise.

“It will just be simple. There will be no pain involved. As a matter of fact, you will not feel any pain after that. The sadness that you have now will be erased as if nothing happened tonight.”

“I think I can’t forget this night. Not ever.”

The flavor of his grief drew my face closer to him. I want to do it at that very moment when our eyes were locked. However, my conscious self taught me to be a master of my own urge. I slightly looked away and then I glanced back just for me to contain myself.

“Mind if you tell me what happened?”

That was the first time I asked that. Most of the time, I am disinterested with my victims. I just feed.

“I told him that I love him but he does not seem to care. He offered me friendship but I rejected it. I told him I want us to be more than that. That I care for him and I can give him my unconditional love but he was not open to the idea of us being together. I love him. I really do but he does not believe me. If he does, he does not really care.”

I whiffed the saccharine scent of his tears. It made me want to gobble up his emotions, even the good ones. Then I realized that asking him to tell his story makes his sadness more luscious for my taste.  On the other side of my mind, I somewhat felt sorry for him. He's compulsive and stupid. It had been very easy for him to say ‘I love you’. He didn't even realize the power of these three words because he easily gave in to the surge of his ephemeral emotional drives. He had been clueless of the reality that these words can encapsulate an entire cosmos, that these words must not be easily uttered like a stimulus as these words can mean either mean creation or destruction, that these words, no matter how powerful they are, can be drained into the black hole of other people’s thoughts.   

“Well, you see, if he does not care then might as well forget him. Keeping the sadness will not do you any good so just give it to someone who needs it-and that happens to be me.”

Before he could even ask, I kissed him on the lips. Time seemed to have stopped. I felt the sensation of his grief flowing from my mouth to my throat and then warming my stomach with its freshness. The whirlwind of tastes drove my tongue in a state of frenzy. I wanted to feed more of him but he started to resist. I decided to let go and silence enveloped us in every direction. Only our eyes spoke. It was as if we were getting to know each other again.

“So what was that again, miss?”  He asked. There was not a hint of heartache in his tone this time. He even smiled.

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks for the directions, I have to go.”

I knew that he was staring at me but I will not allow myself to be the prey this time so I scurried off and never looked back before he can even think of chasing me.

Monsoon Spolarium

The webs of mist on the glass window and the flowing curtain of rain outside reminded Pepsi of what she really wanted.  After long hours of waiting and feeding on the almost wilted petals of the last rose from the garden, Fairy Godmother finally heard Pepsi’s wish. It would have been an easy task for Fairy Godmother to give her ward all the fancy stuff that the other girls wished for but apparently Pepsi wanted something that’s more precious than all the Manolos, Chanels, Guccis, and Pradas that she had given away. It’s something so grand that she might have to just grant just one wish for Pepsi. Given all the perils that they might face after enacting the wish, Fairy Godmother attempted to negotiate. 

“So let me understand this,  dah-ling. You want me to turn back time just so you can get back your first kiss?”

“Yes. “

“You know, dah-ling, my Wand has worked a lot of wonders for other girls. I can give you piles of signature blouses, a cabinet full of designer shoes and bags, a well brimming with Christian Dior masterpieces or even an island full of demigod men. You may choose from all those or, better yet, dah-ling, you can have all of those instead.”

The torrents subsided into a drizzle outside. The frogs stopped croaking and sunlight cleaved the ominous clouds. Pepsi tried to dig out her inner thoughts amidst the mild noise. There was her lust for glimmer battling with her simple desire. All she needed was to take one side and choose whether to be weaker than herself or be stronger than the rest who had the chance to experience the power of the Wand. 

“So have you decided, dah-ling? I have to hurry because I still have to visit Chona Velasquez in Bulacan.”

“I will stick to what I really want. I need my first kiss back.”

Fairy Godmother sighed. 

“Well, dah-ling, instead of having three wishes you will only have that one wish. I don’t want to compromise the Wand’s durability. You may have your wish but I warn you, you may suffer some consequences. You have an odd mind that suits your name, dah-ling. So, farewell, sleep tight, and savor your dream. When you wake up, you will realize that you have had what you wished for.”

After the third flick of her wand, Pepsi fell into a slumber. There were no rainbows, multicolored lights, or even a cape of fog that surrounded Fairy Godmother as she disappeared. However, in her dreams, Pepsi was already traversing universes just to bend the rules of time and space. 

When she opened her eyes, she found her eight year-old self bathing under the young typhoon rain. On her left ear was an almost withered gumamela. Just like the other girls of her age, she was almost naked in her drenched after school sando and white shorts. She was frolicking under the santol tree, lying on the hammock while watching the drops of water fall from the sky, to the net of leaves, and then to her eyes.  She was astonished by the sight of her own innocence and she was enraged at the same time because of this familiar moment.  This was the time when she first felt weakness and fear.  This was that moment under that tree, during that August rain when her first kiss and her youth were taken away from her.

She did not wait for him to come out of the house anymore. While her younger self was busy poking snails and earthworms with a twig, she sneaked into the house.  The past seemed not so distant after all for Pepsi still remembered where her mother used to keep the knives. She heard him snoring and she thought that was the best time to attack him while he was deeply entangled in his gossamer of dreams. Pepsi went inside her stepfather’s room and, with one forceful stab, she saved her first kiss from being stolen.  

When she stepped out of the house, she rushed to find her younger self. She was still poking snails and worms. Pepsi embraced her younger self and allowed the rain to wash away the stains of the past that she has managed to efface. For the first time in her life, she finally stayed under the rain without crying. 
 
*Maring, may you be outbitched by my metaphors. 

*copyright by tofi *