Arayat; That Epic Climb

I was there, approximately one thousand and thirty meters above sea level and millions of inches above land planes. They call it traverse dayhike, I call it the breakthrough to my so-thought bounds in life. Indeed it was hard, indeed it was fun, but definitely it was not just fine—at least, not for a first time.

I was tired, sore and swollen as we headed down the county road. With a bit of light guiding our path, we finally reached the end of our track. Carrying a pair of hefty feet, smudged with mud and clenched by engorged toes, I lay flat on the pavement I thought I had missed for hours. Thinking, I asked myself: what was that I just did?

Recall. My man and I decided to take a different escapade far from our regular Saturday. He reconnected with his online travel-buddies; they call themselves the Storm Chasers.  Later, I found myself at a bus terminal and in the middle of bursting trekking jargons and high-spirited men and women who still have hangovers from their previous adventure, yet are now good to diving into another one on that drenched predawn of September 29.

“She’s a newbie,” said my man. With amusement and caution, I thought I sensed in their eyes, a few of them told me, “don’t worry, you’ll get by”. It was to me a sort of good luck wish and a question of “are you sure, you’re taking that mountain, Miss?” There was a bit of tugging in my heart, one side said “go,” the other was stepping on my subconscious brake saying ‘whoa!’. But the strongest pull told me this is something I should not miss for my life. And it was right.

After almost an hour of wobbly ride on a three-wheeled cart, we finally arrived at the foot of Mt. Arayat. It was a cool and dry morning with only a piece of sunshine slicing through the thick grayish cloud. From there, we start.

I slid three times. I’m sure, I counted. Trying to brush the soil on my knees and wrist while I’m still on my feet, I listened to stories of their many walks, of the eyelid-biting-worm and of the wild boar attacking at a feel of threat from mountaineers. I stood up, straight-back, and get on my feet to keep going. Mine was not as precarious as their experiences, who was I to complain for a bruise and lines of scratches then?     

  

I was there, traversing boulders, woods and bushes, one after the other, sometimes all of them together. I was there taking on three peaks for fourteen hours with only few minutes break. Clinging onto a shaft, I breathe and grasped and inhaled the mixed scent of leaves and drenched soil.    All of these to get to that summit for the first time.

There, I witnessed the thick white clouds enveloping the beaming woods. I felt the muddish soil softened by torrential rains. I was there, in between the heart and the soul of broad thorny leaves and the enormous rugged hooves of trees centuries old. I was there balancing my life on a stick, striving not to break off on a ridge. I was there, approximately one thousand and thirty meters away from the fishes at sea and few centimeters near the high soaring wings. 

Yes, I was there, in that epic mountain of Arayat doing an awesome epic climb. And now, i think, i'm going back.   

Blue

Have you seen the sky lately?

Did you ever wonder how it changed

Photo by: Althea Ceria

or did you even notice that it did?

Were you too busy minding things,

 thinking unheard-of feelings?

Go out, look up

The universe is unfolding

It will not stay still and wait till

you take time to turn and see.

The sky transforms

from white to gray to blue

Sometimes it turns purple like the bruise inside you.

See the sky, it changes hue.

It too, will change you.

Go out, look up

the universe is unfolding

it will not stay still and wait until

you take time to turn and see.

You are grown in a garden of love 

under a heaven spared from disaster

full of awe it is looking down on you

awaiting for the smile that has long been taken away from you.

But have you seen the sky lately?

Did you ever wonder how it

changed or did you even notice that it did?

You are a precious flower,

but you turned purple and blue resembling the

bruise inside you.

If only you go out and dance

And see the sky transforms

from white to gray to blue

though sometimes it turns purple like the

bruise inside you

You will see, it changes hue. It too, will change you.

--- wind 

11.19.12 

* Written with a broken heart.

Two Years

Mama died of lung ailment on July 13, 2010. It’s been two years since she left. For two hard and long years, we have been suffering from her lost. For two hard and long years, we have been longing for her to come back home. Those two hard and long years, we know will run and last. 

Every morning, I would see her crouching by the laundry area, washing clothes with her willowed hands and long-nailed fingers. Oh, those nails — she loves them so much! She managed to maintain her candle-like fingernails even if she used to do laundry for other people when she was younger. There were times I would jest to cut her nails when she sleeps but she would warn me off in haste. 

I went home from school one day bursting in tears because I got a failing grade in Mathematics. Having consistent high grades, I was so afraid it would upset her but she just smiled and told me, there’s nothing for me to fret about and I cannot force myself to like Mathematics, if I really don’t. 

Never in any talks that she would engage with her friends or our neighbors would she fail to mention me or my academic performance. She’s always been that proud mother but in her most sincere and modest way. When I was in high school and morning shift, she wouldn’t have lunch until I get home, same way that when I am out somewhere, she would not sleep until I had arrived.  

She would literally watch over me whenever I spend nights reviewing for school. She would stay up as late as she could just to see me work. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she would make me coffee first before she goes to bed.  She taught me how to cook and played with me with vegetable bits while cooking Pinakbet.    

She sacrificed so much for me, for our family—sacrifices that no word is grand enough to describe nor any anecdote could ever tell.   

Says in the movie Blade Runner “the light that burns twice as bright burns for half as long…”, this is probably why she’s now in Heaven.  She had shined very brightly, so brightly that the Gods envied me, and took her back to light his paradise in Heaven. The light she shed to me, to our family, will glimmer through and will remain up until the darkest hour when we feel that losing her had took our every reason to live.           

There will be more two years like this, two years that will be longer and harder than this. Two years that will last up to the end our lives.   

Today is July 13, a day which I never thought should be remembered—the day she left and went to see God in Heaven. 

I miss you Ma. We all do.  

“Whom the Gods love, die young.”

Mend

Detach. Detach. Detach.
Leave everything behind
Let sun shines on you and you alone
Let them if they want to be alone
Leave them alone, alone in the dungeon.   
That’s what they wanted anyway. 


Look far and leave everything behind
Do not be bothered by any memory’s strand 
Stand, be brave, fight back and never turn back
Let them alone, alone in the dark moon.
They pushed you away anyway


Detach. Detach. Detach. 



06.28.12

Lesson 101: Patience

I am broke. I might not be able to enroll for a Master’s degree this semester. This, when I have long prepared and planned for it. The worst part, it is because of some “completely human failures.”

I understand that the School I intend to apply to could not accept my application since I lack some necessary documents. But it pains me knowing that this, for one, is not my fault.

It is not my fault that my name in my birth certificate was ridiculously written.  That for me to correct it —minus the excruciating processes and all other vexatious activities that go with it — three months would be needed.

I had to prove to each and every concerned office how my name should be spelt and what my Maiden should really be. I fell in lines. I came back to government offices then and again; facing the snarky clerks who seem to have been deprived of life’s happiness that they already forgot to smile or just even look at me in the eyes as they speak.  I waited for their long merienda breaks only to be told that I have to, AGAIN, come back the following days. I was nagged about not showing up as early as they demanded me because I have work to attend to. And time? He’s not on my side.  My petition will be over by June. My application should be up in May. April ends today. Alas for me.

It is not my fault that because my petition is still pending, neither my official school records, which I need for application, would be released. I tried to haggle whether I can push through with it granting that I will submit the gem-like piece of paper just before the classes officially start, but I failed.

I can’t understand why a simple human mistake could affect my dream and plans. And how could some piece of paper doom my future and defer my progress.

I am itching to learn anew, to discover more knowledge and widen my mind’s horizon. To be with intellectual people who could share to me their wisdom and their thoughts.   I want to get back to the ground where I thought I am most at my best. But this damage deems me to wait.

So, let the itch irritate until it wounds and bleeds. Let me stretch myself to learn even outside the four corners of a room. Let the first knowledge for me to practice be the principles of patience and acceptance. That there are some things, no matter how badly I want it, cannot be given unto me, at least not at the time i wanted it but at the time He plans for me to. Let the thoughts of those around me be a source of wisdom. Let everyday be my ground, and me always at my best.

I need no classroom to learn. Even this event chained from a simple error could be a learning process – not for my mind but for my heart and spirit.

Lesson 101: When human failures fail you, faith in God will lift you.

Waiting isn’t bad at all, God maybe just telling me that he’s still preparing my future and molding me better. I should not rely on my plan but on God’s and everything will be settled more than I would ever wanted it ---  for He is the best Teacher and He will never fail me.

“God said patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn't granted, it is learned.”

05.01.12

American Idol and the Filipino Culture of Hitchhiking

In AI she’s only known as Jessica Sanchez from San Diego. In Philippines, she’s Jessica the Filipina --- born out of a pure Filipina mother and half Mexican father, with emphasis on her pure Filipina mother, additional emphasis on her being only ¼ Mexicana and ½ Filipina.

Some called the show racist others said they will no longer follow AI if Sanchez will be gone. This, they said because she represents the talent of a Filipino and she is a Filipino pride. To which I asked, did the Philippines in any way helped her got into the show to say that it is part of her victory or to claim her as its pride?  

Here goes the national habit of Filipino hitchhiking --- the habit of clinging into someone or something popular to and recognized by international folks. This when in fact, the likes of Sanchez --- their capabilities, being and existence --- hardly even get noticed in the country because they are obscured by the highly overrated pretty faces who can do nothing but shake their asses in front of the people and make money out of the poor that worship them for falling short of melanin and having well-bleached skin, crystalline smiles and close to ten inches waists.

Charice Pempengo once suffered from this culture when she was outshined by a Disney kid-looking lad Sam Concepcion in a local singing competition--- where she sang similar songs that she performed in Ellen’s and Oprah’s and gained standing ovations. Thanks to Youtube she is now dubbed as an “international singing sensation” also admired by locals even if she only ranked third to a well-off and good looking boy because of selfsame viewers’ text votes.     

In 2011, the Philippine dragon Boat team had to paddle their way to join the world championships in US. They had to beg support from private persons in order to join the competition and carry the Philippine flag, when the Philippine Sports Commission was renouncing them as the national team to represent the country at the SEA Games.  After the competition, they brought home 5 gold and 2 silver medals from 7 different events and a new world record. In a snap, they became celebrities. Suddenly, they we’re acclaimed heroes.  The whole country glorified their being Filipinos.   Congratulatory remarks flooded them from numerous politicians and other individuals who did not give a damn when they we’re still training in Pasig river --- breathing its stench and boodling on Sardines for viand at the riverside. The whole country was calling them as its athletes; rejoicing. Before this victory, they had no follower compare to the dashing members of a football team who lost their matches at the home field surrounded by legions of lady fanatics.    

With our culture of severe inclination to international recognition but poor support mechanism for locally available resources, what gives the country right to take recognition of these individuals’ triumphs and fruits of blood and sweat? Would you be serious for saying that it’s only because they are Filipinos in blood?

Would Jessica Sanchez be as much recognized in the country being the simple, petit and dark-skinned girl that she is? By the way, where have Jonalyn Viray and Bituin Escalante gone? Did they had solo concerts at the big dome just as Anne Curtis had? With our too much fascination with superficial attributes, would Sanchez be still exalted for her being Filipina? 

'just a thought'

- Wind 

tired

I am tired

… of walking alone

… of waiting you home

I am tired hoping for you to remember me on your own.

I am sad

… to think that again, lies have been told.

… to feel that promises were broken.

I am sad to feel this loathsome.

I am hurt

…  because things did not unfold as it should.

…  because people did not stay as they have opted to.

I am hurt that time was never thought as essential as it should have.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;

and listen to others,

even to the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;

they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain or bitter,

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals,

and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love,

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,

it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. 

- Max Ehrmann 

One Train Ride to Remember

I was weeping half way through my train ride this afternoon at the sight of a couple probably on their late seventies. The old man was all along cordially assisting his old woman on their way to the train. The train, as it is during this time, is crowded like hell. Body to body, elbow to elbow, wrist to wrist ---- that’s how we literally were. But them, they were holding hands, touching each other’s arms, neglecting the fact that they were extremely squeezed in a moving box-like train cartridge.

Afraid that the train’s light tremor would push them down, the grand old man reached to the hand rail above him and to the back of his partner. He pulled her close, closer to his breath. His right hand caressing her back, hers wrapped around his waist. Her head leaning forward his willowing shoulder. Every light move the train makes sways them dancing in the pool of varied folks: those who were busy talking or those who were merely thinking.

The next station parted them. A place was left open for the old lady but she hesitated. She offered this rather to her beau. He refused and insisted for his woman to take the seat which she humbly accepted. Smiling, she kept a stare at him. Stoic as his face maybe, he kept staring back to her.  At this point, I felt my tears shed. I remembered my mama. I thought of my Papa. I imagined them together too --- looking at each other’s eyes, holding each other’s arms.

I imagined if mama hadn't left yet. If she’s still here and got to live several years more until she had reached the age of the old woman in the train. She could be travelling with Papa too. She could have had the pleasure of being held closer too. She could have been caressed longer. She could have lived a life more loved and cared for by the man God has destined for her. She could have felt the warmth the old lady in the train felt. Papa could have had his better chance at making her felt these too. I dread that these had not and will never happen.

For mama, I pose a lifelong devotion --- to wait for the man that God has destined to ride the train with me and forever keep me company. Be him the man I am with at this point in my life, or some random one I would come across in future time --- I will wait for him with all my heart and faith. This I would do to live for mama, the life she had not had enough chance to live.

When finally my man gets to where I am, I would ask him to always hold me close as we would never know where our last train station would be, where any of us would have to be left traveling alone inside the moving box-like train cartridge we call life. 

Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me to never fail to care and love and that my days are numbered, and that my life is a train, fleeing away.

Wind

03.13.12

30 and Getting Marry

Can anybody explain to me why ladies nearing thirties are pressured to get married?

I mean, BAKET????

I understand the medical reasoning for this but what I don’t understand are the things they are willing to neglect just in order to not be ridiculed for being part of this legion of ladies dubbed as single women at thirties, the late travellers and the likes’

Just this morning my sister told us, weeping, she’s getting married. She’s 29.

My brother asked why and she simply said; ‘Siyempre, ano namang gusto mong gawin ko?’ What I understand from those words is the implied message saying: I’m almost thirty, I need to marry, people say girls at this age are supposed to.

Alright, I get that point.

Kuya then asked: May naipon na ba kayo?

She answered in loath: Meron naman.

Meaning, wala.

Ok, that point I don’t understand now. And for god’s sake, what are those tears for?!?

Try telling me those were because she’s happy, mananapak ako!

I mean, those were not tears of joy; fear, sadness or dread maybe? I’m not sure! She didn’t’ tell us. But I’m certain, that’s not the look of a weeping happy-bride-to-be. That again, I cannot understand.

Isn’t it that you are supposed to be very happy when you’re to marry?

I came home late the night before that morning. I found them, ate and his boyfriend with Papa at the dining. The house was quiet. Except from the television turned on. I didn’t know anything yet. I glanced at her boyfriend; that look, he didn’t look like a happy groom-to-be either who just got his future father-in-law’s approval to marry his kid.

So, ano ito? May kasalang magaganap where neither the groom nor the bride is happy? I mean, BAKET???

 

Going back to the point that they have not saved anything yet for this marriage thing, I think it’s foolish and inconsiderate. Ok, marriage is not about money. It’s about this cliché thought of being one with the person you love and spending the rest of your lives together. Ok, I submit to that no matter how cheesy it may sound. But then, I still maintain, it is foolish.

I’m not against them marrying and forming their own family. They are both at the right age. I’m against them marrying when they are still not prepared not just financially but emotionally and spiritually maybe. I’m against them marrying out of pressure from society because of being at thirty.

Is one celebration of Christmas and New Year or Valentine’s Day together enough to say you’re good to marry? They were couple for just a year now. Should that be enough?

THAT guy, her boyfriend, we only knew him for like few months, seen him in some occasions, spoke to him for some time, but should that be enough for us to know he deserves to be part of our family? We may not be the ones marrying him, but hey, we’re taking him automatically, as a family member! Should that one year be enough?

And that thought of being single at thirty and needing to marry thing? I would like to blame the society for this arbitrated doctrine that even my sister is seemingly forced to follow. But any fish will not bite the bait if it still has some other place where it can feed. My sister is living a relatively comfortable life that she needs. We’re a regular family with not much problems at hand (I think). Relatively, we’re happy. Why choose to swim into a rumbling sea when you can stay at a stable pond? I ask again, BAKET???

You may slam me with this blinded and moronic principle of romantic relationship that true love will endure all pain. Alright, so you’ll vow at the altar with the thought in mind that ‘on that day forward you will share a life for poorer and for poorer’ as that’s what you should expect it to be since you didn’t wait and think carefully when you decided to marry? Seriously???

Can’t you be fair enough with your future kids to just at least prepare for the lives you could give them? This is not just about you. This is about those poor kids who will suffer from hastened and clearly thoughtless decision you would make out of minding the pressure this society has brought you. Neither this society will give a damn look if your children grew up part of societal nuisance because they were brought up by morally and spiritually unprepared parents. In the end, when you have complied with this dogma, this society which expectation you had wanted to meet wouldn’t care if you are struggling, bleeding heads and hands just to make ends meet for your family.

So think. You are thirty or turning to be one probably, and you think now you should marry. BAKET???

‘One can study all sides of an issue and come up with a rhetorical gun blazing’

- Richard Marius

February 25, 2012

1.45 PM

The Freak Out

My  man just told me he’s to watch a movie after his work tonight.

He’s watching a movie when he don’t usually have enough energy to talk to me over the phone.

He’s watching a movie when he has been complaining how exhausted he is after work. 

He’s watching a movie when he had started our day (still) complaining how busy he is.

He’s watching a movie when it has been a year when he had asked me to watch one.

He’s watching a movie when the last time he asked me to it, he was not actually able to made it.

Worse, he’s watching a movie ALONE without even asking if I want to come along.

Even worst, he’s watching a movie, given all the instances I have just mentioned and he had the darn guts to tell me so!

Let my rage be not mistaken that it’s because of him not taking me out to movie. It’s not as petty as it seems (at least on my part). It’s the thought of him telling me about it when he should rather have not if he’s considerate enough. 

I made him know I’m pissed, he laughed it off. He deterred by asking me out ---- and hey, the good news is, for a movie date!

Just so he thought it’s the best escape route. Just so he thought this obliged, forced and attempt-to-bribe you invitation would console me. Hell No! It just infused my rage even more.

So he thinks that’s all? That, that’s what pissed me off? That, that’s what made me feel he’s really inconsiderate? It’s far more than that. It has rooted from this year long attempt at a not-in-a-relationship but romantically-affiliated status that we have.   

It’s not about the movie. It’s not about me.

It’s about him not even considering to find and spend quality time with me, but only for himself alone. And it’s about the series of these instances that came in irony with this movie thing he brought up that really freaks the hell out of me.   

* As I finished this entry, he was calling (to apologize perhaps? Or maybe to just ask what am I pissed about). 

  

February 23, 2012, 07:26 PM

A Five-minute infuse

Mediocrity, the one word that describes me

I’m Ms. A Little Bit of Everything.

I can write a little. Speak a little. Sing a little. Draw a little. Even joke a little.

With my little amount of everything, I’m facing difficulty in doing a particular something where I will not just do good, but best.

It sucks being a mediocre. It really does.

Kill me now and no one will remember what I do because I simply do nothing.

Not that I don’t want to do anything but, there’s just nothing that I can do best.

I’m not rich but I’m not poor.

I don’t have everything but I still have something.

I want to be someone else just as much as I’m pretty sure there’s someone else out there who wants to be me.

I’m little Ms. Insecurity.

I see not much good in me unless other people tell it to me.

They say the jack of all trades is the master of none. I definitely, is a master of none, yet I don’t have all trades.

I’m a little bit pretty and a little bit nice.

I can easily get ugly, I easily get mad.

I base my self-conception on other’s opinion or worse, in comparison with other people.

My standard is classified around words: more or less. I’m more of these and less like that and all sorts that go near that.

These classifications put me to thinking: am I really me or just somebody I believe to be me based on what others think of me?

These crises I’d been suffering from since I realized that I’m nothing.

My nothingness pains me. I cannot define myself on my own opinion. 

I cannot even tell what I do. I easily get influenced.

I’m a glass of water three fourths empty. Pour something into me and I’ll be filled. Turn me downward, I get even emptier.Bash me up and I break into pieces, go back to my nothingness and be in my most empty state.  

This is me. Three fourths empty. No self-identity. The epitome of the word mediocrity.

Five minute rant out.

8.37 PM At the doorsteps right next to laundry.

Feb 19, 2012

Bouyancy

Amid darkness peeps the light.
Life is Good, all the time.

Always believe that life is good.

Never mind that you get up from bed at 2 am

Nor your make up thickens from dusty breeze onboard a speeding bus bounding for work.

Life is good even if you come in late and have to put on make up while strutting your way to your office’s building.

It is still good even if your lipstick smudges

when an ‘as-much-in-a-hurry-girl’ next to you bump you on the shoulder.

Think that life is good.

Never mind at all that you have to walk the dungeon-like allies alone every weekday dawn.

Who else gets to see the street lights before they turn off anyway?

Or who gets to pass by roads and witness men’s exhibition of their creativity to make a urine catcher out of street walls?

Not everyone has work to attend to daily.

Not everyone have the mid and end of the months to receive more than pennies.

Not everyone. Not all --- At least not the same as yours.

Believe that life is good.  It has always been, and always is.

01.23.12

The Dark Night

It was a dark and frightful minute of existence

facing upfront me was a monster once disguised as angel

He gave me a sour smile and a piercing glance

His unyielding arms wrapped around me intensely 

So intensely that my blood stopped to rush 

so intensely that it weakened me 

My body trembled; He didn't mind.

I lifted my face trying to grasp a breath to life;

I tried to see the light.

I resisted. 

I strongly resisted but his persistence surfaced.  

He held me back; He nabbed me 

The monster didn't want to free me.

Sadness then shed; it shed so immensely. It didn't stop.

Until the sadness dropped onto the monster's hands; he melted. 

The monster’s hands melted.

He ran away melting; escaping to the wilderness --- 

to the wilderness of silence

to the wilderness of darkness 

to the wilderness of remorse for self endowment

*08/30/11

Morning Sunshine

I feel so cool, so light,  so glad 

I just spent part of the night with my only love. 

We sealed it with kisses and warm embrace. 

I slept on my bed with smile on my face. 

I feel so fine,  so lovely, and free

He treated me nicely and adored me really

He was tender and gentle --- really better. 

It was no 'humid' night but there was warmth

Sincere, gentle and pure; that's how we were

and how he was

I felt so secure, i felt so sure 

I felt the love even more

This morning i woke up and i just know, 

-- indeed it was a good night really, even after all. 

*01/29/11

The Plan

I.

I’m cooking a plot now. I’m not going home tonight.

Problems are: I don’t know where I’m staying. I have work tomorrow and I didn’t bring anything except my laptop and some pennies.

Yesterday, I (intentionally) broke my father’s sim cards after reading some random messages from girls who I think are cheap and stupid.  He asked me if I did it, I said no. I asked him to have dinner, he just yelled back at me.He was so pissed, I was too.  To my rage, I threw his phone against the wall, it crashed.

He has no way to contact those whores anymore. Neither would he have any way to contact any of his so-called “friends” again.

I do not want him to text them nor any other girl for that matter.

This morning I woke up at 1 am.I was thinking of leaving home around 2 am without him taking me to the terminal.

Damn, I could not. And I was not able to.

II.

I texted my ex-boyfriend last night; we’re friends, romantic friends actually.We had a fight the night before, but I thought everything was still alright.

I told him I’m leaving today and I’m not going home.

He tried to ask what was the problem or where am I staying.

I just said I don’t know. Bahala na. But I wanted to see him and fetch me the morning before I would come to office and not go home, to be consoled perhaps?

I asked him if I could meet him around 4 am or earlier. To my demise, he replied to me saying sorry he’s not in love (with me) anymore. ‘Ingat ka kung saan ka man pupunta’. That’s all he said (at least it’s the last phrase I could recall).

F**k. Where’d that come from huh?!?

Flashback.

He was on his way home from office and we’re “baby talking” over the phone (like we usually do when no one is around).Suddenly, he sounded differently. So manly; “so macho” I told him, and I laughed it off (as I always do).

He got annoyed. He asked roughly: “Natutuwa ka sa ginagawa mo?”

I said: “Huh? Inaano kita?” then the rest is history.

I hung up. He called again, maybe just so he could be the one to hang up on me this time.

We didn’t talk after then, until I texted him the said message last night.

Back to my plan. 

Because no one would be fetching me, I could not leave as early as 2am.  I only got up from bed by then.I did the same routine. But this time, I was planning.

Things to bring checklist:

* shampoo

* conditioner

* body wash

* toothbrush (well I can buy this, just anywhere)

* Money? (I have more than P2,500 in my wallet . Sheesh, my sister has my atm card)
* Clothes (There are cheapies in nearby tiangge, even undies)

Plan: I would pack my things and leave home quietly without waking up my father or anyone else at home. 

Destination: Undetermined. My mind is just roving around my main plan: I will not go home tonight.  As to where I will stay, I don’t know.

3:30 AM. Plan doomed.

Papa got up, freshened up and without saying a word; he was already at the gate waiting for me.

Sheeeesh. Ok, he’d to take me to the terminal. My checklist was doomed too.I was not able to replace my bag, I was not able to pack my supplies. Sheeesh again.

There I was: in that awkward moment --- walking side by side Papa without even throwing a glance.One, because I’m guilty for breaking his sim cards and crashing his phone and two, just so he would feel I’m mad. Literally.

11:00 AM. Now.

I’m at the office thinking… 

All I know is, I’m not going home. It’s planned.

Except that I didn’t bring anything except my laptop and some pennies and I don’t know where I’m staying right after.