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.