During a chat with a female friend a few days ago, she had so abruptly mentioned and without my asking, upon coming to the subject of my apparent singlehood, a surprising news about Stella, my beloved ex-girlfriend. Since I last saw her, my beloved ex, I have not dared inquire about her or of any circumstances of her life for I have since pledged to myself with a resolve to forget her. Furthermore, she was with a dear 'someone' then, whom I thought she would be happy to be with, which provided me the ultimate reason to stay away. And so, I am surprised to hear that she is presently single, and has been for quite a long time now without any inclination to be in a relationship, as my friend had informed me.

The mention of her and her present life, although it should be of no concern to me, not anymore, has left me thinking about her since. Well, I should rather say that I have never succeeded in forgetting her, and have always thought about her, and dreamed of her, and prayed for her, and missed her terribly. It has been three years, and it is a wonder to me how it became that long a time, yet I still feel a treacherous stab of pain through my chest at the mere mention of her name, at the sight of her across the street, at the hearing of her voice, or her laughter. I have cursed myself, many many times before, at why I continue to so terribly punish myself with her memory; still I try to push myself, harder and harder, but always with a failure, in putting her out of my mind and out of my heart and move on.

Our last conversation, in text messages, consisted of my eternal apologies and her still fiery hatred of me, my farewell and her silence, my consequent death and her triumph. No amount of alcohol then could anesthesize me from the severe pain of my losing her, it was as if I was a child, trying to understand the concept of death for the first time with great difficulty. Yet, I had to stay away for her heart no longer belongs to me, for she has gladly given it to someone else, but she never made it a point to return mine. I have bid my farewell, as many times as I could count, hoping that inside I really meant it - and now I realize that I never believed in any of it at all - for, like a returning phantom, she haunts me now.

Why do these feelings, these memories, persevere despite my best efforts to shun them? despite time? despite her hatred of me? Do I really love her? or am I merely in love with the idea of her and I? Could it be just remorse? guilt for what I did and what I didn't do? for what I said and didn't say? Her heart is now free - and what of it? Should I intrude into her life once more, to revive a love that has long since been dead? to awaken her bitter disdain of me that has been sleeping? to dive back into the quicksand from whence I have been trying all these years to extricate myself? And for what's sake? I love her, I think I do still, as I have never loved anyone before-

But could that, singly, be reason enough?

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed -
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream - that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar -
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?

~Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream

It was my natal day, I thought you should know, yesterday - a day that, like a breeze during a summer afternoon too swift to be relished, went by barely noticed and uncelebrated except for the appearance of a glorified ice cream gallon on the account of my passing the board examination and becoming a genuine nurse (a great birthday gift, indeed it was). I have grown up unaccustomed to having nor knowing a birthday party and, as years passed, developed a certain dislike for them altogether that I request it myself, even there was no need to, never ever to be surprised with one. A kind kiss, a warm hug, or a simple tap on the back, should suffice. What of all those confounded balloons and useless gifts and needless merry-making? of singing and excessive alcohol consumption? of pandaemonium of hungry people and relatives who are only there obviously for the food? As if there was an important scientific discovery or a death of a dictator that deserved such fabulous frippery. I would rather spend my date of birth in isolation and celebrate its importance in a peaceful afternoon and contemplate the melodies of a guitar. Birthday party, indeed. What nonsense!

Having had a word, at long last, that the examination results were out yesterday, I wasted no time in determining whether the word was true. And, after sifting through the usual heap of internet junk, found that it was indeed out. I found a .pdf copy of the results in a blog site, one of the sites I have been eyeing on to provide me with such information, strangely though beneath an article that announces that 'the PRC has confirmed a leakage' (the article now writes that the PRC has determined the two board members as the source of the leakage; what's happening to this country?).

Although I know how slightly indifferent I was, or pretended that I was, to the possibility of my name not being listed, the thought of it then at that precise moment was most dreadful, so much so that my heart unconsciously, and so suddenly, decided to somersault and steal my breath for a moment, rendering me dizzy while I gaze at my name in shock and disbelief. But I could not be mistaken, it was my name, unless there's another person who posseses the same. I passed? was the first thought which came to my mind. They let me pass?

I have done it. I passed!

Reality soon dawned on me and I was able to swallow the immensity of it all. It was not a moment of extreme exhilaration or excitement, but rather of tremendous relief. But I was smiling, incredulously, to myself and repeating the words 'I passed' over and over as if telling a story to an audience that needed convincing for, I think, unconsciously I was expecting failure. I looked for the others', but I found that I was the only one who passed from our school. Only I consisted the 5% passing percentage out of the nineteen others, from the same school, who took the exam.

For a moment, I was confused. Why me alone? was the question. Why not the others also? who studied as fervently, maybe even more, as I; who so eagerly wanted, even needed, the victory as I; and who took the examination with as much preparation as I. In my moment of joy, of words of congratulations and praises from my family and colleages, I cannot help but think of those whom I shared the months of review and days of examinations with. They would better understand, more than anyone, the meaning of this moment because they were there along with me, as constant companions, during the struggle.

How can one have the heart to celebrate a victory, and be truly joyous, when friends are suffering in defeat?

I have not expected my waiting to be this long. I have promised myself to never venture outside the house or see any of my college friends (for some ridiculous reason, now vague to me) until I have received word that I have passed and consequently, by virtue, certifying me as a registered nurse. I have not seen the city or downtown Butuan in four weeks since I've arrived from Cebu city; however, seeing that the results are apparently not in anyway inclined in being hasty to disclose itself - I decided to break that self-imposed imprisonment.

I could not write, for the past days and weeks, owing to the occasion of severe absence of something to write about. The monotony of daily life, and the boredom of waiting for nothing, has become intolerable. With this, I can do little. I cannot, considering that I have yet to secure a license, apply for a profession (or any job, since I've endeavoured to concentrate on passing subsequent exams) - and so I am trapped at our increasingly claustrophobic home, obliged to do mundane chores and tending the store while exercising all restraint to tolerate the occasional irritatingly dense, often rude, customers.

My brother has urged me to devote some of my overwhelmingly free time, like him, to some physical exertion in the hopes of breaking the insufferable cycle of inactivity and to put some mass to my otherwise slightly emaciated frame. It is an advice I gladly took, remembering the time when I was once in much better physical state. Although suffering from soreness in every muscle and joint since the previous week, it has worked wonderfully and now I'm in much livelier spirits.

Which is less than what I can say regarding the detested delay of the results.

Oh, fucking when?

A month now have passed, officially, since the day I, along with fourty thousand others, took part in the board examinations; yet, there is not a sign that the results of the aforementioned examinations will be released in the nearest foreseeable future, if ever it shall be released at all. A delay, if I have ever seen one, that is filling me, and the entirety of the examinees, with confusion and, unavoidably, with utmost vexation. I cannot deny that, expecting to be informed with the results within ten days or so, and being forced to wait for another ten days and another above that, stretched my patience to its breaking point so much that I could ravagely bite off a considerable piece of anyone's neck responsible for the delay and would not lose a sleep over it. Such is the extent of my frustration, and I would bet that I'm not the only one.

Being kept in the dark, half-anxious and half-baffled, by the utter silence of PRC about the said information is not helping the outrage of emotions across the entire country; however, I have resolved myself to be patient for a little longer - considering that this is a time unlike any other, for I am unaware of any incidence like this ever existed before. The said incident is the 'leakage' issue, involving a certain review center, that, even with simple deduction of a dimwit, is the sole cause for much of the accursed delay. Surprised and angered as I might over this abomination, if indeed it ever occured, interesting as it may be to find out, the who and how is not of my concern, at least not anymore. I have read and heard enough babble about it, and have been left sickened and disgusted by it, that I want no more than to see an end to the whole fiasco and be provided with the information I'm truly only concerned with - whether if I indeed passed or failed.

One must understand the importance of my knowing the outcome of the examination, as much to the thousands who participated in it, for it would determine what I must do and what is to become of me for the next six months, it is the culmination of four years of collegiate struggle, a defining moment for any nursing graduate, a rite of passage to practice as a nurse (and be paid as a nurse, of course). For now, I dare not think that I have failed in attaining my vocation, although some lingering thought of it is vaguely present somewhere at the back of my head. It is amazing to me that, though I would rather prefer to pass, I do not dread the prospect of failing as much as anyone faced with the possibility should. The matter is complicated (yet so trivial); even I can't comprehend it entirely. Perhaps it is some perverse wanting to experience defeat - to know the true sense of success. Perhaps.

Still, I need to know - and so I wait.

What else can I do?

Demain, dès l'aube, à l'heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends.
J'irai par la forêt, j'irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.

Je ne regarderai ni l'or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j'arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

~Victor Hugo