License to Freedom

Six years overdue, I finally received the shiny card granting me the privilege to responsibly and safely operate an automobile. Several trips on days with much unwelcome rains and endless waiting in pointless, disorganized queues resulted in my name printed on a Restriction Two, Condition A non-professional driver's license.

It was a license to a new freedom.

As I was driving home with my mom, she told me how careful I was since now, I had a license to protect. Before, I was driving under a student license -- lawful consequences of my actions had little weight on my shoulders. But now, things are much, much different. Each and every missed red light is now against my name. Each yield sign driven without pause can put other motorists in danger because of me. Every lane change without a polite signal can cause much unneeded stress because of my lack of discipline.

She was right.

As I patiently waited for pedestrians to cross, I suddenly became fearful of driving. There are so many things to be aware of all at the same time. There are so many things that can happen that can cost lives. There are so many responsibilities tied to driving, and I am not so sure I like them all.

Gently stepping on the gas, I firmly held the steering wheel as the car moved forward. I have received not only a license to freedom, but a license to do things I have never done before. I am no longer just a passenger. I can now steer my own vehicle and bring it to places it has never been to.

Now, I can follow all those uncharted roads in my life because for once, I have proven that I can: the shiny license bearing my name has given me freedom to believe in myself.

An Opportunity Found

A few days ago, a very unexpected mail from my practice manager found its way to my tediously organized inbox. I didn't quite understand the subject line and honestly thought I was wrongly included in the mail. Filled with curiosity, I clicked on the link and read the contents.

It was a mail stating I was chosen to be a lead of a new project and was slated to train in New Zealand for two to three months. The first thing that entered my mind was to which label should the mail fall under, because it was the first time I had received such.

It was an opportunity that so few people in the office receive. I wasn't happy; rather a complete feeling of being torn overwhelmed me. My heart began to race as the news started to sink in. My hands became clumsy as it shook uncontrollably. I managed to reply to her saying I want to talk to her about some concerns regarding the new project. After nervously sending the reply and swallowing the tension as hard as I could, I waited for her response, and soon enough, it came.

Hours after the email, I found myself sitting inside the workspace of my project manager. I told her that I was feeling anxious about the new assignment, that it wasn't what I wanted to be. After two years in my company, I have finally found what career I wanted to have. I told her that it would be such a loss if I turned down the golden opportunity to train in another country for a couple of months, but I then I doubted if I would excel and step up in the new project since it laid outside of my sphere of interests. She told me that I shouldn't be disheartened, because I have already set my goals, and the offer wasn't aligned to what I wanted to become: an expert in the business technology knowledge of the airline industry.

In her experience and in a true programmer's words, she shared to me that an opportunity not chosen is not a missed opportunity when that opportunity is not what one really wants. The feeling of resentment comes from the fact that it was a big offer for someone like me. But I realized a deeper sense of guilt will take root in me if ever I decide to leave behind what I love doing just for the sake of not missing an opportunity.

That mail I received was an opportunity for me to stand for what I wanted and desired to be.

Freedom

There is freedom in knowing the truth.

Midnight

After four years of being with me, my laptop, Midnight, is sadly showing signs that he's bound for a replacement sometime soon.

A few weeks before, I've noticed that his backlights were failing. A few days ago, it happened: the backlights died out, which made Midnight true to his name. After a night's stay in the shop and whipping out a relatively sizable amount of money, he's back with me to write this entry. Being the first time in Midnight's stay with me that I needed to ask for a technician to patch him up, it bothered me to the point that I was very happy and relieved that he's fine again. Even if the problem wasn't too critical, the thought of me losing Midnight made me furrow my forehead in deep worry.

If there was something that knows me the most after all these years, it would definitely be Midnight. We've been through thick and thin: he's seen my happiest moments, and he's also been a part of the gloomy events that I learned a lot from. Midnight is a one of the testaments of what I have become and what I have created, and losing him would mean losing yet again a big part of the things I hold dear.

But alas, it is sad to say that I confide in an inanimate being, never able to return the emotions I deeply need.

I've lost so much, but I decided to remain strong. But it would definitely break me if I would lose you, Midnight.

Mixed Signals

Earlier in the tenth anniversary celebration of the company I'm working for, an acquaintance of mine casually walked up to me and shook my hand proceeded by the usual arm wrestling shake. He asked me how I was since apparently, he was concerned on how bad my cough seemed. Yesterday evening, we met inside the men's room while I hacked loudly in efforts to expel some stubborn phlegm that has been in my throat too long. Noticing it was him, I immediately entered a cubicle and sealed it shut while I continued to bark away.

"Ang lala na ng ubo mo ah, ayos ka lang ba?"

"Hindi naman. Oo, medyo puyat lang."

After I told him I was fine and that I just had something in my throat that made me bark like a rabid dog the night before, he told me with a mix of enthusiasm and dismay that he was still on night shift. I asked him if he was taking the shuttle back to the office, and he replied that no, he would be just taking a cab since he can start work as late as ten in the evening. An abrupt and awkward silence followed afterward. Partly confused about his seemingly random talk with me made me silent, which in turn made him leave my seat earlier than I had wanted. He nodded at me, turned, and walked away, leaving me wishing that I had said something to make him stay longer.

I'd admit I liked him ever since I first saw him: he had the strong eyebrows that makes my insides quiver. I liked him all the more after he decided to shave his head as it made his prominent and tall nose even more attractive. I felt that chance was playing with me when I ended up attending a training on the same schedule he was in, with us being on the same group together. After that workshop, I liked him even more because I saw his enthusiastic personality and his mature and forward way of thinking.

I mustered the courage to add him on Facebook as a friend in the hopes of knowing him at least a little better. Not being a slave of the social networking phenomenon, he accepted my request weeks after I sent it. After today's incident, I'm shallowly wallowing in mixed signals: either he's just a concerned and caring friend, or he's running on the same lane in the road as I am. I'm hoping it's the former, because I will be shattered if he's being nice to make us get to know each other a little more than just friends.

M. Pokora - A Nos Actes Manqués

A Nos Actes Manqués (To All The Things We Never Did)
M. Pokora
---

A tous mes loupés, mes ratés, mes vrais soleils
To all my failures, all the things I wasted, all my time under the sun
Tous les chemins qui me sont passés à côté
To all the paths that I just passed by
A tous mes bateaux manqués, mes mauvais sommeils
To all the boats I missed, all my bad dreams
A tous ceux que je n'ai pas été
To everything that I've never been

Aux malentendus, aux mensonges, à nos silences
To all misunderstandings and lies that came from our silences
A tous ces moments que j'avais cru partager
To all those moments that I thought we had shared
Aux phrases qu'on dit trop vite et sans qu'on les pense
To all the phrases we said too fast without meaning
A celles que je n'ai pas osées
To all those that I never dared to say
A nos actes manqués
To all the things we never did

Aux années perdues à tenter de ressembler
To all those years wasted trying to pretend
A tous les murs que je n'aurai pas su briser
To all those walls that I never knew how to break
A tout ce que j'ai pas vu, tout près, juste à côté
To all the things near me that I've failed to see
Tout ce que j'aurai mieux fait d'ignorer
To all the things that I should have ignored

Au monde, à ses douleurs qui ne me touchent plus
To all the pains and sufferings of the world that touch me no more
Aux notes, aux solos que je n'ai pas inventés
To all those notes and songs that I haven't invented
Tous ces mots que d'autres ont fait rimer qui me tuent
To all those rhyming words that kill me in regret
Comme autant d'enfants jamais portés
Like many innocent children never born
A nos actes manqués
To all the things we never did

Aux amours échouées de s'être trop aimé
To all the love stories that ended because we loved too much
Visages et dentelles croisés juste frôlés
To faces that we crossed and almost missed
Aux trahisons que je n'ai pas vraiment regrettées
To betrayals that I haven't carried in regret
Aux vivants qu'il aurait fallu tuer
To the people alive but are better off dead

A tout ce qui nous arrive enfin, mais trop tard
To all the things that happen to us are but too late
A tous les masques qu'il aura fallu porter
To all the masks that we should have worn
A nos faiblesses, à nos oublis, nos désespoirs
To all our weaknesses, our forgetfulness, our desperations
Aux peurs impossibles à échanger
To all our fears that are impossible to share
A nos actes manqués
To all the things we never did

Nanay

When I was still little, my grandmother, whom we called Nanay, always gave me gentle and loving pats to the leg to lull me to sleep. I was a lola's boy because I didn't sleep beside my mom and dad, rather with Nanay. I remember every time she stopped, I would touch her hand so that she would continue giving me that sense of security so that I can finally chase my creative imagination in my dreams. By time I awaken, her side of the bed was already tidy and made up. Often times, I would open my still sleepy eyes with her already sitting in front of the little altar we had in our room, praying the rosary and saying thanks to the one who made all things possible.

Today marks the eighth year Nanay has ascended to a place of eternal happiness. Eight years ago from today, I lost one of the persons I hold dearest inside my heart.

With some weighty problems burdening my load, I remembered how I always liked Nanay's kind and endearing embrace because I felt safe whenever she was with me. As I stopped by to kindle a few candles in her memory, I wondered if she is proud in whatever I have become and achieved. As I once again took the long walk home for her cause, I felt safe because I knew that wherever I might be, a star beyond the endless sky is always shining its light on me. High in the heavens, Nanay is still patiently giving me her gentle and loving pats. She continues to ease away my pains and sorrows and give me courage in life with the memory of her love.

Miss na kita Nanay. Hindi ko man nasabi dati, pero alam kong alam niyo na mahal na mahal ko kayong dalawa ni Tatay. I love you Nanay, at sana masaya na kayo sa piling ni Tatay.

The Long Walk Home

"Kuya, tabi lang ho."

The jeep was cruising along the then empty roads of Commonwealth. It was enjoying its freedom to reign the highway even for a little while. However, the rather dilapidated vehicle abruptly swerved, weaved across several lanes, and ground to an abrupt halt in response to my call.

St. Peter's Parish was quite the distance away from the usual place where I end my commute.

It was a few minutes before midnight when I arrived. I was desperate to find a sincere feeling of peace as I looked up at the cross that was a cerulean beacon of hope. Overwhelmed by the amount of fear from the uncertain, I lit four candles without any intentions of prayer. My eyes vacantly stared at the flames that persevered on the chilly winds that battered them. They burned with vigor at the beginning, but slowly waned as time soldiered on. Cold gusts mocked and reduced their presence, but the four small icons of hope never gave up. They patiently kindled their inner strength and fought bravely not to lose their brilliance. Not letting go, flickering to the point of being extinguished -- they were doing it for my sake.

It was then and there that I found a piece of the peace of mind that I was looking for.

A few minutes past twelve, despite ensconced, I bade farewell to the four candles and thanked them for showing me a glimpse of peace I tearfully wanted to see. Heading home, I passed by the entrance only to be transfixed by the kingly image of the cross. Rays of white illuminated the surrounding darkness, just like the four modest candles that gave me a serene sense of solace. No words escaped my lips, but my heart was overflowing with words of gratitude.

With a humble step, I held onto the peace that I have obtained. My confused mind calmed with each and every stride. My eyes lit up with each new sight I saw. The slow and steady pace of my journey made me once again appreciate the littlest things that made me content before. Everything that passed reassured me that whatever may and will happen, I can always go the distance and take the long walk home.

Chapter Three

Fifteen minutes before midnight, I found myself sitting on the gutter across our house in anticipation for grand flashes of light blazing across the sky. The thing I liked most about new year was not new resolutions or gatherings with family or friends, but the aerial fireworks that adorned the sky with brilliant colors.

After a few minutes of expectance, the mighty noises roared their presence in the air.

Each time a small dot of light streaked skyward, I found myself looking up with an eager smile on my face. A loud boom ripping the mounting excitement, I felt my insides brim with nostalgia that another year has passed and a new one has come knocking into my life. A shower of bright and spectacular sparks afterwards, I thought what the new year has in store for me.

As I rose from my spot and entered the house, I silently told myself to walk into the sunlight and end the midnight that has given me a surrogate sense of security. Like the fireworks that briefly turned the dark amethyst sky into a flash of day, all I asked from the skies was courage to once again light up my hopes for a brighter tomorrow.


Au monde, à ses douleurs qui ne me touchent plus
To all the pains and sufferings of the world that touch me no more
Aux notes, aux solos que je n'ai pas inventés
To all those notes and songs that I haven't invented
Tous ces mots que d'autres ont fait rimer qui me tuent
To all those rhyming words that kill me in regret
Comme autant d'enfants jamais portés
Like many innocent children never born

A nos actes manqués
To all the things we never did

Memories

The nights have suddenly turned cold. The weather, to my surprise, was now giving my weary visage kisses that sent icy tickles playfully rippling down my spine. Albeit late, I enjoyed the wind's cold fancies as I walked to Philcoa from work. With happy thoughts keeping me warm inside, I slowed my pace to think what I have achieved for the year that has passed.

With an unknown presence, my many thoughts unsettled me. Deep inside, I knew something was wrong, but can't figure out exactly what. My eyes looked at the purple sky and the radiant circle that reined the moon. Letting out a deep and soulful sigh, I let go of what was troubling me, afraid that a bout of depression might come knocking my spirits down.

Still partly filled with intrigue, I entered a fast food chain to eat. Falling in line, I looked at the lonely table where a special person and I often used to sit. I remembered the things we talked about until the wee hours of the morning: his passions, his achievements, and his struggles. I remembered the times we just stayed silent and looked at each other. I remembered how handsome he looked each time he smiled, and how happy his laugh sounded every time he saw how much I ate. Images of the happy times we shared together came uncontrollably rushing to my exhausted mind, which made me feel only more sentimental. There were just so many things I wanted to dream and experience in life with him, and it broke my heart each time I realized that he was now gone and would never, ever come back.

It was then what I realized what was wrong: I held each and every happy moment in my past too closely in my wounded heart. Like a bandage to stop the bleeding, those memories have kept me sane and strong after all that happened. As long as I had those little memories keeping me warm in the bitter cold of my emotions, I knew I would push through. But the problem was that I have forced myself to be satisfied with those little candles of warmth embracing my heart: I am no longer seeking a more profound sense of happiness to keep me always smiling and happy. I am hesitant to experience and create new memories with people because I am terrified that everything might turn into another grave mistake. I will never find my own separate peace because the reality of things was that I have long given up hope and stopped the tireless search for it. I was living in a world of my delicately preserved memories, choosing to look away from the world filled with unique experiences of what life meant. Time has stopped in a period wherein I was the happiest -- my life has never continued forward, locked in a perpetual pause to protect my notion of what it meant to be happy and content.

After finding the guise to break away from my reverie, I took my order and slowly approached the lone table. However, seconds back to my ephemeral reality, my body turned and my feet shuffled away from the testament of the happiness I once had. I found myself sitting at a distant table, trying to find the courage to open my heart to experience new memories in search for the long lost paradise I have always yearned for.

Complete

Mere seconds before midnight, we gathered round our humble feast to thank for our blessings that we have received for the past year. As soon as we closed our prayers, everybody was eager to delve into their own plates full of food to silence their rumbling stomachs. The special meal was made extraordinary by the people celebrating the spirit of sharing and happiness.

Christmas. I didn't mind the empty feeling inside because I realized that at least for today, it wasn't important. What mattered most was that my relatives in the province, despite their differences with one another, came together as one family to enjoy the moment. The cold breeze that echoed outside the house was blanketed by the warm smiles everybody had inside the old home full of each others' fond memories.

My Christmases will never be incomplete ever again. In my own little way, I have learned how to embrace one of the true meanings of the season. We were crowned by a dark, unfriendly, and starless sky, but that didn't stop me to shine a small light of hope in my heart in search for a separate peace I've long yearned for.

The Faithful

Dead tired from a hectic day at work preceded by a miserable two-and-a-half hour sleep, my eyes were heavy with a weight invisible to me. Managing to change my worn pants into something more comfortable, I laid on my bed as the fan filled the room with a soft hum that lulled me to sleep. Within a few minutes of gazing emptily at the ceiling, thoughts deep about work, my body finally let go of my consciousness in favor for a pleasant dream that made me silently wish never to wake again.

After a seemingly impossible short amount of time, the enigmatic world that I belonged to suddenly ground to a complete stop. Half naked and half awake, I looked at the dusty old clock that hung across my bed. It was already past one in the afternoon. Without realizing the truth I slept a full fourteen hours and the fact that I was terribly late for a meeting, I gave the real world a deep, heavy sigh. Nonetheless, I collected myself and prepared to leave for work.

With the angry afternoon sun baring everything down on me, I patiently waited for a tricycle to bring me to the bustling Commonwealth. Starting to get temperamental because of the heat encroaching my skin, I plugged in my buds to ease up my burning mood. One of my favorite songs, Yeah Yeah Yeah's Maps, was on the playlist.

Made off
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same

A tricycle managed to pass by. I hastily called the driver's attention and was soon on my way. The sweat on my back was already trickling down, ever so slowly, mocking my impatience to the heat. I was gradually taking in the afternoon's rage within me. Perspiration rolling down my neck, I tried to relieve the tension by removing my backpack and letting much welcome air come rushing to my back. However, it wasn't enough to appease the fury building up inside of me.

It was during about that time we passed by a humble chapel beside the road that knows me by heart. I tried to look up on the cross atop the chapel's ridge to attest to my faith, only for the bright and merciless sun to conspire against me. Blinded and dismayed, I squinted my eyes hard and looked down.

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps, wait!
They don't love you like I love you...

A street urchin was down on his knees, hands together in solemn prayer. He didn't mind the stares and leers of strangers that passed by. No complaints escaped his knees about how hot and scabrous the pavement was. He paid no attention to how the incredibly intense midday sun was spoiling the otherwise pleasant day. He was there in his own little corner of the cruel world, keeping his innocent convictions and hopes true. At the very least, his faith was true to himself.

In those few seconds that I witnessed the kid, I realized how faithless I have become. Seven years since Nanay's passing, I have lost the courage to truly believe with my entire soul. Two years since a previous relationship, I still find fear residing in the deepest parts of my forgiving heart. And up to this very moment, I still have nothing in me to make me hope that a different tomorrow will come. All I turned out to be is an empty and hollow shell of a man, completely different from the little boy who has nothing but his enduring faith. 

Wait, they don't love you like I love you
Maps, wait!
They don't love you like I love you...

Tenacity: That June 2009 Incident

...I see this as a blessing in disguise, parang 'yung isang break-up quote lang, kelangang isipin na inilalayo lang ako ni Bro sa mga di naaangkop na kaibigan. I'll move on, because I realized there is more to life than this stopover with you guys. I hope that when we meet again, we all have grown into better human beings.

Bilang pagtatapos, mag-iiwan ako ng isang aral na huli ko nang natutunan, mula kay Kuya Trip:

"You can never be 'you' if you are defined by any group you have joined."

Jay, from his blog
June 10, 2009


This is probably a dangerous topic to tread on, but I am not taking sides here. I've ever since been an outsider about this issue that tore friendships apart. I didn't prod into the issue, I just childishly chose a side, since looking back, it was the only side I knew.

As far as I know, there were many people involved in the incident, but my only concern was two online friends, Jay, the owner of the entry, and someone I fondly called as Uncle, a person whom Jay and I respected. I valued my friendship with Jay because we had so much things in common, while I highly looked up on Uncle because he always knew what to say.

What happened three years ago was that Jay and Uncle had a falling out due to reasons no longer important now. Jay turned to me, seeking whatever solace I had to offer, as he told me his story on what happened between them. The end was that I took the emotions of Jay to myself and started to hate Uncle for what he did. I remember myself being so angry that I had the strong urge to punch and destroy whatever was within sight.

With a greater sense of maturity unlike before, I can tell that what Jay and I did was wrong. The way things look now, we were kids throwing an ill-placed tantrum. I can't say the same for my friend, but looking back at everything that I have wrote or done, I realize how self-centered I was; the world nothing more but a vessel to spread all my self-caused hatred and problems. My insides seethed at the thought of Uncle because Jay hated him: the thing that mattered most then was the fact that Uncle was the one who left Jay. I didn't place any effort on knowing the reason for it. As I read again what Uncle had to say about Jay's breaking of silence, he made it clear that there is more to the world than just our own childish little selves. I have read this on a lonely midnight three years ago, and only now did I understand what he truly meant. I knew Uncle was as patient as he was intelligent, and I guess what happened was that sadly, he ran out of wire. I'm not the one to blame him, because I'm sure his load was just as full like anybody else's.

I may never know the entire story, but as an outsider with a broader perspective than before, I know that both Jay and Uncle had a terrible misunderstanding, made worse by volatile emotions that ultimately put their friendship, trust, and faith in one another to ruin. I do not know if they have made efforts to reconcile. But even if they haven't, I'm hopeful that both of them are continuing to grow not to be better human beings, but to be more mature individuals who know their own unique strand in the endless fabric of life.


Jay, Uncle, I hope you are both well and good. Someday, I wish to see both of you in person, probably not together, but see you guys in person nonetheless. I just want to shake your hands firmly and politely thank you guys. 'Di niyo lang alam, you guys are one of the persons why the nasty little blogger who wrote nothing but negativity came out the sane and strong person he is today. Cheesy and drama as shit, but true.

Man-for-Others

A friend of mine was pleasantly surprised to know that I was a true blue Atenean. It was one of those childish questions people ask, and I reluctantly answer with full candor. He too, was an Atenean, a senior of mine some years before my time. He was telling me with a great grin on his face that I didn't have the usual notion of a blue eagle being pasosyal and konyo, and that he was elated about. Different from me, he had great command over the English parlance; squarely constructed sentences coming out in straight and true English, while my sorry tongue tried its best to cope up with his command over the language. I actually said I was hoping that he wasn't an inglesero like the person he was, since I quote, I would die. With a guffaw, he told me how genuine I was reflected my warm personality and kind heart.

In a manner I can't describe, he told me that soon enough, I'll notice how sympathetic I was. The problem with Ateneans was being too altruistic that they forget to leave a portion of the cake for themselves -- too much of the man-for-others being imbibed for the some of us. He asked me if there was any single time when I noticed I was too nice for my own good. I intentionally looked away and said a yes with deep, heavy sigh. A jovial and intelligent fellow, he laughed at my reaction, telling me how he liked my honesty.

I have long noticed that I am too considerate and good-natured for my own good. Ever patient, I do so because I know that it is the right thing to do, even if it would cost me my freedom and true happiness. Looking deeper, I do good things without seeking for any in return with great ardor simply because I hope people would do the same. The sad thing is not all people see an act of generosity as a brave and noble thing to do. Instead, they see it as an opportunity to manipulate and bend the truth to their will, feeling victorious as they do so. Little do they know that once the glass mirroring their smug and proud faces is shattered, their reflections will never look the same ever again.

The Blue Wilderness

With a new identity, the midnight wolf entered the blue wilderness filled with figures bound to satisfy his wants. As a wolf roaming the thick foliage blanketed by the darkness of midnight, he only desired for his very own pack in which he can truly say he belonged. As the weeks turned into months, one thing became apparent: the blue wilderness was nothing more but a field full of prey, all begging to be taken down with a vicious, rabid bite. The barter to happiness was a perfectly chiseled body. Arms with thick guns bursting from the sleeves, a chest and body that can launch a thousand ships, and a virile manhood brimming with testosterone were all that mattered.

The blue wilderness was nothing more but a repeating lie. Like clockwork, the midnight wolf entered the hunting grounds hungry but left far more famished. Each and every silent step made a question bury itself deeper inside his core. After almost two years of searching and looking at the dark midnight sky, his tired eyes have seen the answer that was patiently waiting to be found in the present.

Mustering a final howl that echoed throughout the blue wilderness like a knell, the midnight wolf silently wandered off. With his vision straight and true, he headed atop a quaint knoll. The air was saturated with uncertainty and fear for the future, but carried in it a great relief from all the pretensions happening below. He made one last glance of his grim surroundings; the same scenery that broke his heart and shattered his trust over and over again. Without regrets holding him back, the midnight wolf braved forward to the outside world, his tracks and shadows never to be seen in the blue wilderness again.

But his tale continues, as he lives through the sweet sorrows of pain -- subtle reminders that he is alive, yearning for a separate peace and happiness in the ironies of life.

Wish List

I've been staring on the Christmas Wish List for our team Christmas party for about over two hours now. I'm having trouble figuring out what my Minimum of 1. Maximum of 5. Worth P250.00 is.

I was telling my best friend earlier this morning that I was particularly down this Christmas season because I had nothing to look forward to. I told him that I always made a point to look forward to something each and every time Christmas made its presence known by the cold evenings of December. I never wanted anything material for Christmas since I always waited for something that will be of worth to me even after many years have passed, no matter how small it seemed. I just wanted to be happy, or at the very least, content.

A lot of things have happened to me for the year that is starting to close its final pages, and I guess what I can wish for this Christmas is that nothing more will happen that will push me to wear a fake and empty smile once again. I know keeping this in my heart will bring me a separate peace only I understand, but even so, I am no longer content. I've always told myself it was far more important to be content than to be happy, but looking back at everything that has happened, I am no longer content in just being content. I'm sad that I'm slowly starting to unlearn the idea that has kept me going through all these emotional problems. Maybe all I want is the ability to actually tell myself I am completely content and happy and desire for nothing else.

But even so, I know I'll pull through this Christmas, even if it's the emptiest one ever in my life. I've made it through my particularly unbecoming of a birthday, what more Christmas?

I know I will. Ako pa.

bonnetboy

One night in April, I received a message in a gay social networking site from a user with the handle bonnetboy. He was asking me if I wanted to meet up with him on a friendly date, and I remember his words exactly:

Are you up for a friendly meetup bai?

With a shrug, I halfheartedly said yes. I was saying yes for the sake of it, not because I was particularly interested in him. I remember thinking negatively to how big the difference in our heights were: I stood at a tall six feet one, while he was only five feet five. During that time, I have always ignored those kinds of messages, and I was saying yes to bonnetboy, whose name was Van, plainly for a change.

And a change it was.

Right away, everything felt so right. Van and I would exchange messages via text or Facebook into the wee hours of the morning. We would go watch movies together and hold hands for the entire length of the movie. He would always tell me stories on how he has succeeded and failed in his goals in life. His strong will and personality made me feel that I could depend on him to be there beside me no matter what happened. And true enough, he did protect me during the saddest time of my life -- when I no longer knew what the truth was. Everything felt so right and I was sure of it. I have never felt so happy and content for the longest time. Everything, except for the fact that he was to leave in a month's time to work in Canada for the sake of his family, especially his ailing mother who he loves very much.

My heart silently broke. It was my fault, since we have agreed not to fall in love with one another because of the fact that he will be leaving soon. A few nights before he left, we met up for a last time. I was afraid the night will end because I had to admit, I already loved him. Before we separated our ways, I gave him a tight hug and told him I'll miss him so much. We both hated goodbyes so we left things at that, promising each other that we'll still meet in the future for sure. Immediately after letting go, my eyes started to well with tears. Not wanting him to see my cry, I walked away, eyes tightly closed. Taking a deep breath, I looked back, and saw him mouthing the words I love you. At that moment, my life became complete and incomplete at the very same time.

Seven months have passed, and deep inside my heart, I still love Van. As cliché as it may sound, I've never met and known anyone like him. He's no longer here with me, but he continues to be a part of and change my life. Thanks to technology, we still talk to each other regularly, though times now aren't that like before. He told me recently that his stay in Canada has been extended for another two years, and I'm happy for him because I know working there is a dream come true for him. However, my heart quietly cried, and broke for a final time as my little hopes of us being together when he comes back has all been blown away. But because I love him, I know that I need to step back and let go to watch him succeed on all the goals he has set for himself to achieve.
 

I still love you pumpkin. Thank you for always being so sweet and kind to your sweetie. I miss you so, so much. Take care always.

Faith (Part Three)

After convincing myself I wanted to go, tonight I decided to finally visit the wake of my friend's mom who recently passed away. With shyness filling my insides to the brim, I gathered some courage and entered the viewing chapel where her remains were.

I was greeted by my friend's older sister. After I politely introduced myself,  she and I had a little chat on how my friend and I got to know each other. Soon after, she excused herself to attend to the other guests. I silently sat in the middle of the room and emptily stared at the ornate cross quietly looking over everyone in the room. As the other guests chatted to pass away the time, I found myself musing on what my friend and I have become during the little time we spent together before he left. I realized then that I miss him so much, but there was nothing I could do. No matter how strong my desire to see him and be with him was, nothing would happen because we have both made our choices long before.

I stood up and looked at my friend's mother. She looked peaceful and serene, freed from all the pains brought about by her illness. I said a little prayer for her eternal repose and her family's strength of will before saying goodbye. I held the hand of my friend's sister tight as I said my final condolences, and left the chapel.

Before I went home, I passed by a nearby church to offer candles for my friend, his mother, and his family. As the flicker of light turned into a bright and strong flame, I realized one thing: I can always turn to the one up in the heavens for guidance and support. I've always searched strength inside of me, but I never managed to find it -- maybe the reason being my lack of faith not only to the one above, but maybe even to my own self as well. When I left the lit candles to carry my prayers into the night sky dotted with stars, I looked at the cross inside of the church and felt each and every strong and slow beat of my heart.

Kayo na po ang bahala sa aming lahat.

Faith (Part Two)

I heard mass last Sunday after a very long time of not celebrating. Being not the most devout Catholic around, I thought to myself that saying thanks for a wonderful first-time experience abroad would be a nice thing to do. I also wanted to thank him for looking over us when we were in a foreign land, and for taking care of our loved ones while we were away.

As the mass was going on, I found myself constantly drifting away to thank for a lot of things, the first being my trip to Malaysia and Singapore. Afterwards, I asked for the continued guidance and good health of my family and friends. I prayed for my friends who were experiencing troubling times for them to find the courage to face and stand up to their problems.

After hearing mass, I remember saying to myself how refreshed I felt. It was a very optimistic feeling that everything would turn out to be well and good. It was like after being shrouded by darkness, I have finally seen the light I have long searched for.

But after a few days, the reality struck me that it everything I felt isn't true. It was a naive thing to feel.

A few days ago, I received a message that a friend of mine was again back in the hospital because of his heart condition. The problem was that some weeks prior, he was already admitted to the hospital for nine days due to a mild heart attack because of problems tearing up his family. On the very same day, another friend of mine left me a message telling that his terminally ill mother has sadly passed away after months of painful battle with leukemia. The sad thing about it was that both my friends aren't here in Manila and will not be anytime soon, which made me feel thrice as much helpless as I actually was. I wanted to talk to them in person to know how they were but obviously unable to, adding immensely to the grief I felt.

My already broken heart broke even more. My tears welled up, but I managed not to shed a single tear. Thinking that I specifically prayed for their cause, I looked up and wanted to ask why everything had to end up that way.

But I didn't. Instead I said a little prayer for them, and continued to carry a very heavy heart and a distracted mind filled with concern. I looked up with a blank stare, and thought to myself that unless I find a miracle, I cannot do anything else but to have faith.

Faith. Maybe that's a miracle in itself.

Goodbye Money: Team MY/SG

Some initial thoughts about Kuala Lumpur and Singapore:

1. Clean. And I do mean clean. There is still the occasional litter here and there, but you can count the trash with a single hand. The places are so clean that I don't remember seeing any flies buzzing about.

2. Efficient traffic systems. Never did I experience any heavy traffic on both places when we commuted by bus. And my god, the bus and railway systems of both places are so great. It's so convenient for us backpackers because everything was so connected. Kuala Lumpur has the KLSentral, the only place we needed to go to when we needed to go somewhere via railway, and Singapore has the SMRT, a bus and railway system so efficient you should never be late for anything.

3. The people are so disciplined. People cross only at designated places and do not litter. In Singapore, people stay to the left when standing on escalators to give way to other people in a hurry and stop completely when seeing pedestrians wanting to cross a pedestrian lane.

My trip to KL and SG was a real eye-opener to me. Being my first trip out of the country, I'm so overwhelmed on all the things our country is missing out. It was the simple things that stuck most on my mind because if it was that simple, why can't we implement it here? I'll do my part. Even if I know we won't be anything like Kuala Lumpur or Singapore soon, I'll still do my part because the change should start with each and every one of us.