s214

Story #214: Tanga ako at proud ako roon

“Kung ito lang din, huwag na lang”

Akala ko ito na ang pagtatapos ng lahat at akala ko tapos na ang pagtutuos natin; ito pala'y simula pa lamang ng mas madugong laban.

Umiyak ako ng gabing iyon at hindi ko alam ang aking gagawin. Sinabi ko na lang sa sarili ko na sadyang hindi talaga kmai para sa isa’t isa. Lumipas ang mga araw at ako'y naging maayos. Onti onti akong nakabangon muli

May best friend ako at itago natin siya sa pangalang Michael. Nag break kami noong birthday ni Michael at dahil ayaw kong malungkot siya, hindi ko sinabi sa kanya. Ang hindi ko alam, masayang masaya pala siya sa paghihiwalay namin at isa palang malaking regalo sa kanya ito.

Dumating ang isang araw na sinabi niya sa aking may nagugustuhan daw si Michael–si ex ko na tawagin nating si Canipus. May isa pang sinabi sa akin si Michael: “Nagugustuhan rin ako ni Canipus.”

Ang saya ‘di ba?

Matinding bigat sa kaloob looban ko ang nangyari at ito pa lang pala ang simula ng lahat. Ako'y isang tanga at proud ako roon.

Nalaman kong umamin si Michael kay Canipus matapos ang ilang araw ng aming paghihiwalay. Doon pa lang ay kita ko na traydor si Michael, dahil nais niya nang agawin ang aking ex bago pa man kami maghiwalay.

Proud sila na ipinagsisigawan na sila habang ang mga kaibigan ko at halos lahat ng nakapalibot sa kanila ay tutol sa kanilang relasyon–alam kasi nila na ex ko si Canipus at inagaw siya ng tinuturing kong matalik na kaibigan na ahas.

Hanggang ngayon, ang alam pa rin ni Michael ay inosente siya. Pero ang halos lahat ay alam kung ano ang pinaggagagawa niya. Wala siyang maloloko.

Lumipas ang ilang buwan at naging ayos din ako. Naging okay kami ni Michael, pero ngayon, napagtanto ko na hindi na kami nararapat na maging magkaibigan. Sino nga naman ba ang nasa tamang pag-iisip na kakaibiganin ang taong hindi inisip ang kapakanan niya dahil naging makasarili ang kanyang kabigan?

Tanga ako, oo, pero proud ako; dito ako natuto na hindi lahat ng pinagkakatiwalaan mo ay malinis ang intensyon. Nakilala ko ang sarili ko at naging mas malakas ako. Wala akong pakialam kung mas gwapo ka sa akin noon, kung mas matalino ka, o ano pa. Ngayon, wala na akong pakialam dahil hindi magiging basehan ng kung ano ang ginawa mo sa akin para masabi ko kung sino talaga ako. Hindi repleksyon ng mga gawain mo ang magbibigay ng kahulugan sa kung sino ako; pinapakita lang nun ang abilidad mo na magpahalaga ng tao.

Karma niyo ang isa’t isa at natutuwa akong panoorin ang bawat pag-aaway niyo dahil iyan ang hinabol niyo sa isa’t isa. Kalibugan lang pala. Sana'y maging masaya kayo.

Dear rhapsody-n-green,

(Disclaimer: I wrote this for rhapsody-n-green while I was drunk because I like a challenge. Posted with minimal editing.)

Raina, Raina, Raina,

I took my one shot of the night and I’m pretty sure that everyone’s amused at my red face right now. These work parties are wonderful, and I’m literally admiring my boobs right now wondering why I’m not in bed with someone right now. Why I’m not in bed with Andre right now? God, I’m so desperate. I’m even considering online dating– ecause fuck it, I don’t want to die alone.

I love you so much I’m drunk writing to you right now, and there’s no other person I can imagine drunk writing to while everyone tells me how fucked up I am. (Bastille is playing. Their cover of No Scrubs. I love Bastille, I just realized.)

I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk with you, and I regret that now. Can we just take shots and write? Arthur Crenshaw calls me. 

And I know–I absolutely know–you’ve got an Arthur Crenshaw too. And you’ve got the same chances of getting published as I am, if not better. (God, why did you let me write Arthur? He’s in my head all the time.) 

Raina, I miss you. I miss the strawberries on top of your cake. I miss the dining dollars we carelessly spent on smoothies and icing. I miss the times alone we had in Keeling, the quiet tones we had until we really knew how quiet it was in the apartment–and I think I’m just repeating everything you said because I’m really fucking scared that we’re not going to have these moments anymore the next year. And repeating everything feels like the only way to hold on to it all.

Swedish fish and watermelon, tastes like sour patch. Get me high, please; I wonder what new perspective I get. Get me high and make me write. I will forever insist on writing together no matter our mental state. If Alana can write HUM essays with me then I’m quite sure we can all write some crap fiction together too. 

I still wish I lived with you guys. Maybe my senior year. It’s only a one year lease, and knowing that the best moments of my sophomore year were the best with you and Alana makes me hope to have a good year, even though we’re not in the same apartment. I look forward to holding on for as long as we could.

And maybe a trip to see my favorite math professor can remind us of how big this world really is and how far we still need to go.

I’m falling asleep, and I don’t even care they’re taking pictures of me. I don’t care. I’m so tired, and this chair is comfortable and warm. I can’t do this. My head hurts and I’m out of it… but in retrospect, aren’t I out of it all the time?

I wish I had not gone, but I think–I needed to write this, because I can’t imagine writing you anything better when sober. Let me stare at the ceiling and wonder how our story’s going to end as I feel myself dying on this chair. The Christmas lights are only slightly comforting, but I’m the unnoticed burnt out bulbs along the string. 

I suck at sentiment; maybe Andre Minor broke my soul into pieces and the shards that are left is for Arthur Crenshaw, the stained glass mosaic inspiration. I think you’re one of the few who would get that.

Yours,

PTangent