I believe the children are our future.
Teach them well and let them lead the way.
Show them all the beauty they possess inside.
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier.
Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be.
I decided long ago never to walk on anyone’s shadow.
If I fail, if I succeed, at least I did as I believe.
No matter what they take from me, they can’t take away my dignity.
Because the greatest love of all is happening to me.
I found the greatest love of all inside of me.
The greatest love of all is easy to achieve.
Learning to love your self is the greatest love of all.
I can’t believe you just sang. ;p
Anyway, this song is definitely my favorite song. Not because I can fully relate to it or not because vanity is my favorite sin, it’s probably because of the simplicity of the words used, personal appeal of the melody and the timeless meaning of the whole song.
My second favorite song is “I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You” from the movie “The Mask of Zorro” while my third favorite song is “Halik ni Hudas” by Wolfgang.
Enough. (about songs)
This read is not about my favorite songs and their unique meaning to my life. (Maybe in my other reads)
Today I’m going to write about MY greatest love of all.
Even before grade school, I have already realized that loving one’s self and the significant people around you is the start of learning how to really love.
When I was in high school, I used to fill the body of my book reports with the lyrics of “The Greatest Love of All” in paragraph from. Surprisingly, I got good grades from these stupid book reports – Form-Over-Substance. It’s either my teachers loved the song too or they weren’t just reading the book reports.
When I was in college, I found my greatest love of all. In my eyes, she was the closest thing to “Perfection”. I wanted to be the greatest. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be above all. I wanted to be perfect so I could come up to her and have a perfect relationship. But my imperfections rendered the whole perfect idea impossible. Something even greater held me back.
When I was already working, I struggled to become the best person that I could be. I wanted to become her knight in shining armor; her real-life prince charming. I wanted to become a thief in the night so I could steal her heart without her knowing. I wanted her to be mine.
During this time I realized my greatest love of all. I realized the magical beauty of loving without expecting anything in return. I learned to love unconditionally. More than just LIKE-ing her, WANT-ing her or NEED-ing her, I LOVE her. I love her to the point of letting her go.
She deserves a real knight in shining armor, not a struggling writer pretending to be one.
She deserves a real prince charming.
I’m just...simply charming. ;p
Love at First Sight
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Or the better question is, “Do I believe in love at first sight?”
No matter how badly I appear as a HOPE-less, CAREER-less, MONEY-less babaero writer, would you believe I still do?
Infatuation is a different thing. Being physically or psychologically attracted to the mental projection of another person’s digital self for a period that will last definitely not for a lifetime but until that moment you find someone else better or at least realize it’s just the radical change in the chemical composition in whatever part of your body – you just in some way get over it.
But sustaining that indescribable feeling for about nine years is a whole different story. Many things have changed but at the back of my head, etched in a corner of my heart and deep inside my consciousness, I know that it’s still there. I just know.
Everything started when I was in first year college. Fresh out of a not-so-coed high school life (girls and boys are in separate classes), the experience of being one-foot way to several girls of different shapes and sizes, brings an unusual sensation that makes me tickle all over.
First day of classes. My two kumpadrés and I establish our presence in an unfamiliar territory by checking out the babes – in class and in the nearby classes as well.
Second day of classes. The usual babehunt continues – but now even bigger.
Third day of classes. The forest full of exotic creatures turns into a safari of wild breasts. I mean wild beasts. (Typographical error on bReasts ;p)
More days passed. And more weeks passed.
Then suddenly, while I was standing in a crowded corridor, out from a sea of striking white uniforms, she passed by and the magic happened.
I am not fond of romantic movies but that slow motion scene where the love interest of the leading actor fills the screen with her overflowing hair and Close Up smile while walking to the tune of “Close to You” by The Carpenters turns out to be real.
But I didn’t hear bells ringing or birds chirping. I didn’t even hear Close to You. (Thank God) I was aware of the surroundings. I was hearing the familiar sound of marching college students while laughing and chattering. But at that very moment when I first laid my eyes upon her, I heard the slow rhythmic beats of my heart – every single beat. Seven seconds of seven strong heartbeats felt finitely forever.
Months passed. I could still hear the intimate heartbeat ascribed only to her every time I see her.
A year passed. I just wished she could hear my heart screaming out her name.
Two years passed. I felt my heart wanted to shed out tears knowing that I haven’t done anything in the past two years.
Three years passed. I missed the opportunity to be with her. I still didn’t have the guts to tell how I exactly felt for her.
On the fourth year, I tried to forget about her by compromising into a relationship.
Five years passed. She always filled my mind and spirit every time I had a break-up.
Six years passed. At least I got a chance to talk to her over the phone. Nevertheless, I still didn’t have the guts to tell how I exactly felt for her.
Seven years passed. Many things had changed. The feeling grew more and more, richer and richer, deeper and deeper. As my love for her began to meet its peak, I started to realize she deserves someone better.
Eight years has passed. I could only wish that I am the perfect person for her. But I know I am not. I love her to the point of letting her go. I want her to be the best that she can be with the best person she can be with. Not the HOPE-less, CAREER-less, MONEY-less babaero writer that I am.
Now if you ask me, what’s the difference between infatuation and love at first sight?
Eight years.
Or the better question is, “Do I believe in love at first sight?”
No matter how badly I appear as a HOPE-less, CAREER-less, MONEY-less babaero writer, would you believe I still do?
Infatuation is a different thing. Being physically or psychologically attracted to the mental projection of another person’s digital self for a period that will last definitely not for a lifetime but until that moment you find someone else better or at least realize it’s just the radical change in the chemical composition in whatever part of your body – you just in some way get over it.
But sustaining that indescribable feeling for about nine years is a whole different story. Many things have changed but at the back of my head, etched in a corner of my heart and deep inside my consciousness, I know that it’s still there. I just know.
Everything started when I was in first year college. Fresh out of a not-so-coed high school life (girls and boys are in separate classes), the experience of being one-foot way to several girls of different shapes and sizes, brings an unusual sensation that makes me tickle all over.
First day of classes. My two kumpadrés and I establish our presence in an unfamiliar territory by checking out the babes – in class and in the nearby classes as well.
Second day of classes. The usual babehunt continues – but now even bigger.
Third day of classes. The forest full of exotic creatures turns into a safari of wild breasts. I mean wild beasts. (Typographical error on bReasts ;p)
More days passed. And more weeks passed.
Then suddenly, while I was standing in a crowded corridor, out from a sea of striking white uniforms, she passed by and the magic happened.
I am not fond of romantic movies but that slow motion scene where the love interest of the leading actor fills the screen with her overflowing hair and Close Up smile while walking to the tune of “Close to You” by The Carpenters turns out to be real.
But I didn’t hear bells ringing or birds chirping. I didn’t even hear Close to You. (Thank God) I was aware of the surroundings. I was hearing the familiar sound of marching college students while laughing and chattering. But at that very moment when I first laid my eyes upon her, I heard the slow rhythmic beats of my heart – every single beat. Seven seconds of seven strong heartbeats felt finitely forever.
Months passed. I could still hear the intimate heartbeat ascribed only to her every time I see her.
A year passed. I just wished she could hear my heart screaming out her name.
Two years passed. I felt my heart wanted to shed out tears knowing that I haven’t done anything in the past two years.
Three years passed. I missed the opportunity to be with her. I still didn’t have the guts to tell how I exactly felt for her.
On the fourth year, I tried to forget about her by compromising into a relationship.
Five years passed. She always filled my mind and spirit every time I had a break-up.
Six years passed. At least I got a chance to talk to her over the phone. Nevertheless, I still didn’t have the guts to tell how I exactly felt for her.
Seven years passed. Many things had changed. The feeling grew more and more, richer and richer, deeper and deeper. As my love for her began to meet its peak, I started to realize she deserves someone better.
Eight years has passed. I could only wish that I am the perfect person for her. But I know I am not. I love her to the point of letting her go. I want her to be the best that she can be with the best person she can be with. Not the HOPE-less, CAREER-less, MONEY-less babaero writer that I am.
Now if you ask me, what’s the difference between infatuation and love at first sight?
Eight years.
Dear Xerex
Ako po ay isang alagad ng sining sa larangan ng panulat at panitikan na maituturing sapagkat ang aking mga ideolohiya, pananaw at komentaryo ay aking naipamamahagi sa aking mga masugid na tagasubaybay sa pamamagitan ng instrumento ng malikhaing pagsulat ng maiikling kwento na sa awa ng Diyos ay nakapagdudulot ng kakaibang kaligayahan sa kanila.
Hindi po ako tulad ninyo na pawang kabastusan ang isinusulat para lamang makabenta ng mumurahing dyaryo upang may maipalamon sa pamilya.
Upang maisalarawan sa inyo ang kasamaang naidudulot ng inyong kamanyakan, hayaan ninyong isalaysay ko sa inyo ang aking sariling karanasan para na rin sa kapakanan ng lahat ng mga mambabasa.
Nasa high school ako noon, Xerex. Palibhasa’y matangkad, maputi at chinito, maraming kaeskwela ko ang nagkaka-crush sa akin. Alam ko ito sapagkat marami-rami na rin ang mga babaeng nagtatanong ng numero ng aming telepono at ayon na rin sa aking mga kaibigan na nagsasabing bukang-bibig ako ng mga usap-usapan ng iba’t ibang grupo ng kababaihan sa aming paaralan.
Palibhasa’y sanay akong makipagkarinyo sa mga kababaihan, hindi na bago sa akin ang makisalamuha sa kahit sinong babae. Dahil dito, hindi ko napagtutuunan ng pansin ang magkaroon ng sariling kasintahan dahil hindi naman ako nalulungkot dahil sa dami ng mga babaeng umaaligid-aligid sa akin.
Isang araw ay nagbigay ang aming guro ng isang munting project para sa aming klase sa Filipino. Kinakailangan naming magpasa sa susunod na linggo ng isang munting bagay na may kinalaman sa sining. Buti naman at pinayagan kami ng aming guro na makipagpareha sa kahit sinong gusto naming kaklase. Kung kaya’t ang aking kababatang si Anne ang aking ginawang kapareha. Sa tuwing magkakaroon ng mga ganitong klaseng project ay palaging kami ang magkapareha kung kaya’t palaging mataas ang nakukuha naming grado dahil kilala at sanay na sanay na kami sa isa’t isa.
Sobrang malapit kami ni Anne palibhasa’y magkalaro na kami simula pa noong maliliit pa kami at dahil na rin sa pagiging magkapitbahay namin. Noong sumunod na Sabado ay nagpunta ako sa bahay nina Anne upang gawin na ang aming project. Mga sampung minuto na ang lumipas ngunit wala pa ring nagbubukas ng pinto sa akin sa kabila ng aking pagtawag. Kung kaya’t minabuti kong pumunta na sa likod-bahay nina Anne upang doon na lamang dumaan. Naliligo pala si Anne. Ang lokong ‘yun. Sinadya akong hindi pagbuksan ng pinto sapagkat hindi ko rin naman siya pinagbubuksan ng pinto ‘pag nagpupunta siya sa amin. Palagi rin siyang napipilitan dumaan sa likod-bahay namin. Gantihan lang ‘ika nga.
‘Pag pasok ko sa kanilang bahay ay tinanong ko si Anne kung nasaan na ang mga tao sa kanila. Habang nasa loob ng banyo ay sumagot siya at sinabing nagpunta raw sa sementeryo ang mga magulang niya kasama ang nakababata niyang kapatid. Wala naman daw masayang magagawa sa sementeryo kaya’t nagpaiwan na lamang siya.
Pagkatapos magbihis ni Anne ay agad niya akong tinawag sa kanyang kwarto upang gawin na ang project namin. Dahil halatang nagmamadali siyang magbihis medyo nabasa tuloy ang suot niyang damit. Bakat tuloy ang ilang parte ng kanyang katawan. Maganda pala ang hugis ng katawan ni Anne. Hindi ko ito masyadong napapansin dati dahil marami namang ibang mas maganda at mas sexy kaysa sa kanya sa aming paaralan. Mas maganda pala si Anne ‘pag bagong paligo. Mas lumilitaw ang maputi at makinis niyang balat. Nakakaakit din ang kanyang mahabang itim na buhok na medyo basa pa. Napansin ko rin na walang suot na bra si Anne sapagkat bakat na sa basa niyang blouse ang nipples niya. Tumambad din sa akin ang mapuputi niyang legs na animo’y hindi pinadadapuan sa lamok.
Hindi ko inakalang ibang project pala ang nasa isipan ni Anne. Pagkadaka’y hinawakan niya ang aking gagamiting sandata. Malaki iyon kaysa sa normal. Ang tigas din. Nagulat ako sa sumambulat sa akin. Hindi ko alam ang aking gagawin dahil first time ko lang gagawin iyon. Mas naging excited tuloy si Anne sa naging reaksyon ko. Dali-dali niya akong dinala sa may study table niya upang doon gawin ang kanyang binabalak. Hindi na naming nagawang pagusapan ang gagawin namin. Gusto na kaagad ni Anne na ipasok ko sa butas ang aking sandata. Kinakabahan ako noon at medyo nanginginig kung kaya’t hindi ko sinasadyang mali ang pagkakapasok sa butas na itinuro ni Anne. Napaaray si Anne. Napansin ko na lang na may dugo na sa study table niya. Agad ko itong pinunasan. Tinanong ko si Anne kung ok lang siya. Ok lang naman daw siya at kaya niyang tiisin ang sakit noon kaya ituloy ko lang daw ang aking ginagawa. First time lang din pala niya.
Itinuloy ko lang ang aking ginagawang paglabas-pasok sa butas na sinasabi ni Anne. Siya ang nagsabi na mas ok daw kung masusundan naming ang kakaibang pattern na ibinigay sa kanya ng kanyang kaibigang babae. Naisip ko lang na sana ay nagpatulong kami sa kaibigan niya upang napadali at napasaya ang aming ginagawa.
Pagkalipas ng dalampung minuto ay pawis na pawis na kami ni Anne. Pansamantala naming itinigil ang aming ginagawa upang magpahinga. Napansin ko ang kislap sa mga mata ni Anne. Naliligayahan siya sa ginagawa namin. Paborito pala talaga ng mga kababaihan ito. Hindi lang siguro nila masabi sa mga lalake dahil natatakot silang matanggihan.
Pagkatapos ay nagpalit kami ng posisyon ni Anne. Siya naman ang hinayaan kong gumawa. Hindi rin siya gaanong marunong dahil mali-mali rin ang pagpasok niya. Natatawa na nga lamang ako kung minsan.
Pagkalipas ng isang oras ay natapos din kami sa aming ginawang project. Pagod na pagod kami pero nag-enjoy naman. Ipinangako naming sa isa’t isa na uulitin namin ulit iyon. Sa susunod ay baka sa bahay naman namin. Naisip namin na mas masaya siguro gawin iyon sa sala o kaya sa hapagkainan. Mas masaya rin siguro kung marami kami. Maaari naming isali ang mga kaibigan niyang babae. Maaari namin iyong gawin ng sabay-sabay. Mas masaya rin siguro gawin iyon habang pinapanood namin gawin ng iba.
Xerex, masaya pala talaga magcross-stitch.
Ok lang kahit nasugatan ko ng sandata kong karayom ang daliri ni Anne.
Nawa’y aking naisalarawan sa inyo ang idinudulot na dumi sa isipan ng mga mambabasa ng iresponsableng pagsusulat.
Hindi po ako tulad ninyo na pawang kabastusan ang isinusulat para lamang makabenta ng mumurahing dyaryo upang may maipalamon sa pamilya.
Upang maisalarawan sa inyo ang kasamaang naidudulot ng inyong kamanyakan, hayaan ninyong isalaysay ko sa inyo ang aking sariling karanasan para na rin sa kapakanan ng lahat ng mga mambabasa.
Nasa high school ako noon, Xerex. Palibhasa’y matangkad, maputi at chinito, maraming kaeskwela ko ang nagkaka-crush sa akin. Alam ko ito sapagkat marami-rami na rin ang mga babaeng nagtatanong ng numero ng aming telepono at ayon na rin sa aking mga kaibigan na nagsasabing bukang-bibig ako ng mga usap-usapan ng iba’t ibang grupo ng kababaihan sa aming paaralan.
Palibhasa’y sanay akong makipagkarinyo sa mga kababaihan, hindi na bago sa akin ang makisalamuha sa kahit sinong babae. Dahil dito, hindi ko napagtutuunan ng pansin ang magkaroon ng sariling kasintahan dahil hindi naman ako nalulungkot dahil sa dami ng mga babaeng umaaligid-aligid sa akin.
Isang araw ay nagbigay ang aming guro ng isang munting project para sa aming klase sa Filipino. Kinakailangan naming magpasa sa susunod na linggo ng isang munting bagay na may kinalaman sa sining. Buti naman at pinayagan kami ng aming guro na makipagpareha sa kahit sinong gusto naming kaklase. Kung kaya’t ang aking kababatang si Anne ang aking ginawang kapareha. Sa tuwing magkakaroon ng mga ganitong klaseng project ay palaging kami ang magkapareha kung kaya’t palaging mataas ang nakukuha naming grado dahil kilala at sanay na sanay na kami sa isa’t isa.
Sobrang malapit kami ni Anne palibhasa’y magkalaro na kami simula pa noong maliliit pa kami at dahil na rin sa pagiging magkapitbahay namin. Noong sumunod na Sabado ay nagpunta ako sa bahay nina Anne upang gawin na ang aming project. Mga sampung minuto na ang lumipas ngunit wala pa ring nagbubukas ng pinto sa akin sa kabila ng aking pagtawag. Kung kaya’t minabuti kong pumunta na sa likod-bahay nina Anne upang doon na lamang dumaan. Naliligo pala si Anne. Ang lokong ‘yun. Sinadya akong hindi pagbuksan ng pinto sapagkat hindi ko rin naman siya pinagbubuksan ng pinto ‘pag nagpupunta siya sa amin. Palagi rin siyang napipilitan dumaan sa likod-bahay namin. Gantihan lang ‘ika nga.
‘Pag pasok ko sa kanilang bahay ay tinanong ko si Anne kung nasaan na ang mga tao sa kanila. Habang nasa loob ng banyo ay sumagot siya at sinabing nagpunta raw sa sementeryo ang mga magulang niya kasama ang nakababata niyang kapatid. Wala naman daw masayang magagawa sa sementeryo kaya’t nagpaiwan na lamang siya.
Pagkatapos magbihis ni Anne ay agad niya akong tinawag sa kanyang kwarto upang gawin na ang project namin. Dahil halatang nagmamadali siyang magbihis medyo nabasa tuloy ang suot niyang damit. Bakat tuloy ang ilang parte ng kanyang katawan. Maganda pala ang hugis ng katawan ni Anne. Hindi ko ito masyadong napapansin dati dahil marami namang ibang mas maganda at mas sexy kaysa sa kanya sa aming paaralan. Mas maganda pala si Anne ‘pag bagong paligo. Mas lumilitaw ang maputi at makinis niyang balat. Nakakaakit din ang kanyang mahabang itim na buhok na medyo basa pa. Napansin ko rin na walang suot na bra si Anne sapagkat bakat na sa basa niyang blouse ang nipples niya. Tumambad din sa akin ang mapuputi niyang legs na animo’y hindi pinadadapuan sa lamok.
Hindi ko inakalang ibang project pala ang nasa isipan ni Anne. Pagkadaka’y hinawakan niya ang aking gagamiting sandata. Malaki iyon kaysa sa normal. Ang tigas din. Nagulat ako sa sumambulat sa akin. Hindi ko alam ang aking gagawin dahil first time ko lang gagawin iyon. Mas naging excited tuloy si Anne sa naging reaksyon ko. Dali-dali niya akong dinala sa may study table niya upang doon gawin ang kanyang binabalak. Hindi na naming nagawang pagusapan ang gagawin namin. Gusto na kaagad ni Anne na ipasok ko sa butas ang aking sandata. Kinakabahan ako noon at medyo nanginginig kung kaya’t hindi ko sinasadyang mali ang pagkakapasok sa butas na itinuro ni Anne. Napaaray si Anne. Napansin ko na lang na may dugo na sa study table niya. Agad ko itong pinunasan. Tinanong ko si Anne kung ok lang siya. Ok lang naman daw siya at kaya niyang tiisin ang sakit noon kaya ituloy ko lang daw ang aking ginagawa. First time lang din pala niya.
Itinuloy ko lang ang aking ginagawang paglabas-pasok sa butas na sinasabi ni Anne. Siya ang nagsabi na mas ok daw kung masusundan naming ang kakaibang pattern na ibinigay sa kanya ng kanyang kaibigang babae. Naisip ko lang na sana ay nagpatulong kami sa kaibigan niya upang napadali at napasaya ang aming ginagawa.
Pagkalipas ng dalampung minuto ay pawis na pawis na kami ni Anne. Pansamantala naming itinigil ang aming ginagawa upang magpahinga. Napansin ko ang kislap sa mga mata ni Anne. Naliligayahan siya sa ginagawa namin. Paborito pala talaga ng mga kababaihan ito. Hindi lang siguro nila masabi sa mga lalake dahil natatakot silang matanggihan.
Pagkatapos ay nagpalit kami ng posisyon ni Anne. Siya naman ang hinayaan kong gumawa. Hindi rin siya gaanong marunong dahil mali-mali rin ang pagpasok niya. Natatawa na nga lamang ako kung minsan.
Pagkalipas ng isang oras ay natapos din kami sa aming ginawang project. Pagod na pagod kami pero nag-enjoy naman. Ipinangako naming sa isa’t isa na uulitin namin ulit iyon. Sa susunod ay baka sa bahay naman namin. Naisip namin na mas masaya siguro gawin iyon sa sala o kaya sa hapagkainan. Mas masaya rin siguro kung marami kami. Maaari naming isali ang mga kaibigan niyang babae. Maaari namin iyong gawin ng sabay-sabay. Mas masaya rin siguro gawin iyon habang pinapanood namin gawin ng iba.
Xerex, masaya pala talaga magcross-stitch.
Ok lang kahit nasugatan ko ng sandata kong karayom ang daliri ni Anne.
Nawa’y aking naisalarawan sa inyo ang idinudulot na dumi sa isipan ng mga mambabasa ng iresponsableng pagsusulat.
November 1 Love Affair
Because I am a certified lover boy since birth (as much as I would like to believe so), would you believe I had a cute little romantic not-so-love affair even at the least romantic day of the year – November first?
Believe it or not, I did. (Ang bangis! ;p)
This cute little romantic not-so-love affair started on November 1, 1996. The same year when I started to shift to first gear for babe hunting slalom marathon. There was this mysterious skinny girl about four years older than me. She had these large deep dark vivid eyes which made me wonder whether she was still alive or just one of the reasons why we are celebrating the occasion. Her radiant white skin contrasted the gloomy sight of black shirts, flickering candle lights and several multi-faceted objects sitting on the green lawn. It always brought a little smile on my face whenever I see her at the corner of my eye staring back at me. I honestly don’t know why.
My great granddaddy’s lot is about five meters away from their lot. Considering the number of people in their lot, they’re quite a small family. Although most of the people on their lot are female, my mysterious skinny girl stands out the most.
By November 1, 1997, I had already shifted to fifth gear for my babe hunting slalom marathon. I was so excited to go to the cemetery. I didn’t exactly know if it was just puberty or the thought of seeing my mysterious skinny girl that created some adrenalin rush in me – or maybe both. As their lot came ahead before our lot, I was able to pass by mysterious skinny girl’s family in a quite impressive fashion. With my back straight and my chin parallel to the ground, I strolled along the green lawn as if it was a red carpet. I made sure she noticed me.
On November 1, 1998, I just stayed at home. When Erap was elected president, it felt like All Saint’s Day everyday. That is because Erap was a saint. (Shit.)
On November 1, 1999, because of the hype of the coming “debatably new” millennium, I had already forgotten my mysterious skinny girl. I went to the cemetery not to see her again but to see some fresh faces (and figures).
It’s a taboo to wear red during funeral because people say that red is a happy color – it’s as if you’re happy that someone died. I didn’t know if it’s the same for All Saint’s Day but nevertheless, I intentionally wore vibrant red so girls can easily recognize a young hottie passing by the lonely cemetery.
And there she was, at the corner of my eye, my forgotten mysterious skinny girl also in vibrant red. “Just plain coincidence,” I thought to myself.
On November 1, 2000, I got a taste of my first sembreak. To show my unfathomable (meaning deep; I just used the word unfathomable so that I would appear clever) admiration to my Alma Mater, I wore my college shirt – a plain white shirt with a prominent university logo.
And there she was – wearing white. “This must be it,” I thought. “I have to know her name.” But how? A cemetery felt like an awkward place to create an ideal relationship. Through the years I had seen her become more and more beautiful. Her facial features became more and more distinct. Her every move became more and more refined. I had already seen her family as much as she had seen mine. There’s nothing wrong about asking her name, right?
But I felt something holding me back.
On November 1, 2001, I wore black. If she had also worn black at that time, it would no longer be a coincidence but destiny. I believed all the souls in the cemetery might have to do something with it.
Surprisingly, she did not appear.
I wondered why.
I began asking questions to myself.
I relived every moment that I saw her at the corner of my eye.
Nonetheless, she did not appear.
Two months after, I had a chance to visit the cemetery again. After the usual overflowing of tears and mascara, different howls and cries, Zest-O Orange and Goldilock’s Mamon in a usual burial ceremony, I had the chance to pass by our lot. I didn’t waste the opportunity to go to my mysterious skinny girl’s lot so that at least I could get to know her surname.
I wished I didn’t give in to my curiosity.
For I didn’t only got to know her surname, but also her full name, date of birth and yes, date of death.
She passed away on July 2001.
I would never forget those large deep dark vivid eyes looking at me as I stared down at the picture engraved on her tombstone as if she was telling me…
“Pengeng zesto” ;p
Believe it or not, I did. (Ang bangis! ;p)
This cute little romantic not-so-love affair started on November 1, 1996. The same year when I started to shift to first gear for babe hunting slalom marathon. There was this mysterious skinny girl about four years older than me. She had these large deep dark vivid eyes which made me wonder whether she was still alive or just one of the reasons why we are celebrating the occasion. Her radiant white skin contrasted the gloomy sight of black shirts, flickering candle lights and several multi-faceted objects sitting on the green lawn. It always brought a little smile on my face whenever I see her at the corner of my eye staring back at me. I honestly don’t know why.
My great granddaddy’s lot is about five meters away from their lot. Considering the number of people in their lot, they’re quite a small family. Although most of the people on their lot are female, my mysterious skinny girl stands out the most.
By November 1, 1997, I had already shifted to fifth gear for my babe hunting slalom marathon. I was so excited to go to the cemetery. I didn’t exactly know if it was just puberty or the thought of seeing my mysterious skinny girl that created some adrenalin rush in me – or maybe both. As their lot came ahead before our lot, I was able to pass by mysterious skinny girl’s family in a quite impressive fashion. With my back straight and my chin parallel to the ground, I strolled along the green lawn as if it was a red carpet. I made sure she noticed me.
On November 1, 1998, I just stayed at home. When Erap was elected president, it felt like All Saint’s Day everyday. That is because Erap was a saint. (Shit.)
On November 1, 1999, because of the hype of the coming “debatably new” millennium, I had already forgotten my mysterious skinny girl. I went to the cemetery not to see her again but to see some fresh faces (and figures).
It’s a taboo to wear red during funeral because people say that red is a happy color – it’s as if you’re happy that someone died. I didn’t know if it’s the same for All Saint’s Day but nevertheless, I intentionally wore vibrant red so girls can easily recognize a young hottie passing by the lonely cemetery.
And there she was, at the corner of my eye, my forgotten mysterious skinny girl also in vibrant red. “Just plain coincidence,” I thought to myself.
On November 1, 2000, I got a taste of my first sembreak. To show my unfathomable (meaning deep; I just used the word unfathomable so that I would appear clever) admiration to my Alma Mater, I wore my college shirt – a plain white shirt with a prominent university logo.
And there she was – wearing white. “This must be it,” I thought. “I have to know her name.” But how? A cemetery felt like an awkward place to create an ideal relationship. Through the years I had seen her become more and more beautiful. Her facial features became more and more distinct. Her every move became more and more refined. I had already seen her family as much as she had seen mine. There’s nothing wrong about asking her name, right?
But I felt something holding me back.
On November 1, 2001, I wore black. If she had also worn black at that time, it would no longer be a coincidence but destiny. I believed all the souls in the cemetery might have to do something with it.
Surprisingly, she did not appear.
I wondered why.
I began asking questions to myself.
I relived every moment that I saw her at the corner of my eye.
Nonetheless, she did not appear.
Two months after, I had a chance to visit the cemetery again. After the usual overflowing of tears and mascara, different howls and cries, Zest-O Orange and Goldilock’s Mamon in a usual burial ceremony, I had the chance to pass by our lot. I didn’t waste the opportunity to go to my mysterious skinny girl’s lot so that at least I could get to know her surname.
I wished I didn’t give in to my curiosity.
For I didn’t only got to know her surname, but also her full name, date of birth and yes, date of death.
She passed away on July 2001.
I would never forget those large deep dark vivid eyes looking at me as I stared down at the picture engraved on her tombstone as if she was telling me…
“Pengeng zesto” ;p
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