It was by some unseen force, unknown to me even now, that murdered my cowardice, blinded my reason, and infused me with hapless courage- that I decided, against all remonstration, to meet with Stella, one windy day in Cebu, after years of outright silence. Days have passed by since, I have returned home, and have been struggling with great difficulty to write about (for I deem it necessary, for some vague reason) my date with my amiable ex. I recollect now with great fondness and vivid clarity, as if it were only yesterday, the moments that those two wonderful hours contained: of us walking closely together sheltered beneath a flimsy umbrella, of me talking to her whom for years existed only in my thoughts and dreams, of her mentioning her blog that only holds a single entry (a thought that made her smile which she tried in vain to conceal), having a curious slip-of-the-tongue, and of us loitering about the mall reminiscing, laughing, and pretending all the while to ignore the deafening palpitations of the heart and the uncontrollable paroxysms of the hands. It is amazing to me how she could make me that happy, more than anyone ever could or in any time I could possibly remember, so much so that I wonder if it was all but a dream. I never wanted it to end, but eventually it must, at some point- that of which was my waking. Yet, even after we have bade each other farewell, I remained enthralled by the experience and walked (or floated) amongst the shops of SM as if they were made of soft clouds; and I must have worn the most ridiculous of smiles for people looked at me in a funny sort of way.

Alas! What I have foreseen and feared as the consequences of my baneful decision began, unceremoniously, to torture me and at once shackled me into that dark cell of wretchedness and misery which I only know too well. The two hours of joy brought with it the forgotten past and all the feelings that I once tried so hard to bury, bursting out with such strength like an immense torrent that could not be stopped. Love thenceforth reawakened and, in fierce vengeance, freely bestowed upon me that familiar pain which no amount of liqour could benumb nor any sort of soothing could alleviate. For- she is not mine! And he whom she wilfully gave her heart to, the same person who touches her sweet lips with his, who feels the warmth of her embrace, who hears her soothing whispers, who beholds her smiles and know that they are his only (joys that I would voluntarily bleed myself dry to get back for an hour, a minute, or even just a mere second)- is not I! Oh, dear God- the torment of this realization is too much for me to bear. It swelled inside me, and wrenched, and gnawed, and tore me within, with such unutterable pain that I fear I could lose my very insanity. Heavens, how much sorrow can thou endure me to take? I weakened, in drunken wretchedness, and cried piteously (out of helplessness), and shed bitter tears as bitter as the tears that fell on the first day I lost her. I welcomed them all, like long-lost friends who once kept me company on many sleepless nights.

But I have no regrets, and that if I were to be confronted by the same dilemma again, I would not have decided nor have done anything differently (except, perhaps, to have tried everything in my power to prolong our time together, and pleaded with her to stay, even just a little while longer). This much I can say with certainty that I am compelled to say it again: I have no regrets, none whatsover. And I am glad that I waited on her and met her, despite my letter explaining my supposed absence, for I would have asked myself endless question of 'what-ifs' and would have irately pulled my hair at all the 'what-could-have-beens' if I had decided otherwise. I was happy, and that is enough. I shall relish the new memories given to me, as I shall savor the sweet misery that accompanies it, if only to remind me that I yet live and that I have a heart that can love still. I have realized, too, that perhaps my love for her was never dead, as I thought it was, and that it only lay in shallow slumber- to be reanimated fully by the slightest sound of her voice, by the comfort of her touch, by the smallest hint of her presence. That I still love her, I am no longer ashamed to say (as if it were a weakness, of which I am guilty of), and that I love her with a love that is deep and true as I have never loved any denizen upon this earth. I shall love her with patience, and will await for her- until her heart is free, until fate and the world have lost their will to oppose us, until I have resurrected the love she once felt for me (as she did mine). I will await, my entire life if need be, until time should shrivel and waste my body and steal from me all my memories, until the earth should reclaim my flesh and throw my heart to the worms.

I will await for her.

I settled into a corner bunk, which I do not own, and hoped that no one would attempt to claim it for I hate to spend a night beside a stranger without so much as a respectable barrier nor do I desire to be on the top bunk where it is most cumbersome getting down and getting up again (the cashier gave me a top bunk despite my pleading to give me the bottom). As I readied myself for the six-hour voyage to Cebu, a couple descended out of nowhere, took the opposite bunk, and abruptly started, as if I wasn't there, to flirt shamelessly in front of me. I bought and attempted to read a newspaper, all the time feeling uncomfortable and increasingly uneasy at their frivolous giggling and lusty whisperings. Unable to withstand it any longer, irritated and angry, I stood and walked out of the room, took a stroll outside to gaze at the harbor lights and the agitated ocean half-swallowed by darkness.

---

The winds have increased their strength, as the ship headed to Cebu in the darkness of the night (the overly affectionate couple had gone somewhere, I hope, still aboard), and the waves shook the ship to such an extent that I felt sick to my stomach. It would have been an expected thing, with the tail of a typhoon still whipping the country, and perhaps bearable to a certain degree that I could have fallen asleep oblivious to it all- except for the infernal snoring of that abhorred man fast asleep not five feet away from me. He made the most horrible of noises possible for a human being, from grunts to growls to farts to something even I cannot describe, and robbed half of the tourist class passengers, especially me, of their precious sleep. An entire herd of hippopotamus during mating season could have made a more gentle chorus than that confounded pig's nocturnal carols, the brute.

---

Morning came. I was able to sleep, somehow, by some miracle. I had intended murdering the man in his sleep, or endeavoured to throw him overboard when I awake, alas! he was not in his bed, the animal. After fixing myself, I went outside, bracing myself against the howling winds, and stared across the bleak horizon. Presently emerged Cebu- a spit of mottled land studded with sticks and covered by a blanket of smog, waving in the high winds. I took in a deep breath of the moist sea air, felt the sting in my bosom, and my hand started shaking once again. I watched the waves threw themselves against the side of the ship, tried to calm my troubled heart and empty my chaotic mind, and strived to find something to smile about- but rather looked like a forlorn and lost stranger all the same.

---

Writing from Cebu, inside a cafe, wasting time and loitering in indecisiveness...

It may not always be so; and I say
That if your lips, which I have loved, should touch
Another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
His heart, As mine in time not far away;
If on another's face your sweet hair lay
In such a silence as I know, or such
Great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

If this should be, I say if this should be-
You of my heart, send me a little word;
That I may go unto him, and take his hands,
Saying, accept all happiness from me.
Then shall I turn my face, and hear one bird
Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

~E.E. Cummings

Kahit na kay sarap isipin ng aming muling pagtatagpo, ako at si Stella, hindi ko mapigilang makadama ng kaonting pangangamba at pagdadalawang-isip. Gusto ko ba talagang makipagkita kay Stella? Handa ba ako? Ngayon pa lang ay nakikinita ko na ang lahat ng maaring pag-atake sa aking marupok na damdamin, ang resultang hindi pagkatulog sa maraming gabi, at ang pagbabalik ng lubos na pagka-uhaw sa alak. At sa ngayon ay hindi ako sabik upang dalawin muli ang mga ala-ala at mga damdamin na kakamot sa mga naghilom nang sugat. Maaring sabihin mo, kaibigan, na malamang ako ay isang duwag, mahina, o lampa. Pero kung ikaw ang nasa aking kalagayan—hindi mo kaya iiwasan ang mga pangyayaring alam mong delikado? hindi mo ba aalisin ang kamay mo sa apoy kapag nadama mo ang init? hindi ka kaya aatras kung alam mong dehado ka sa laban? Ngunit, sa likod ng lahat, may boses pa rin sa loob kong sumisigaw na 'bahala na!' Bahala na. Ang motto ng pinoy. Sabagay, puwede ko rin namang kunin lang ang puwede kong kunin—ang isang araw sa piling niya. Isang araw, yun lang—isang araw matapos ang apat na taon. Isang araw ng kaligayahan, ng pagbabalik-tanaw, ng kuwentohan, ng tawanan, ng pakikiramdaman, ng pagpapapanggap. O kahit na kalahating araw lang. At pagkatapos noon, puwede ko nang iwanan ang lahat. Makukontento't mabubusog na ako. Kung sana ganoon lang kasimple. Kung sana ayus na ang isang araw. Kung sana may kabusugan. Sana, sana, sana.

Ah, ewan!

Hindi siya galit (hay, salamat) sa akin, o sa kaninoman, at ang tanging dahilan ng kanyang napakahabang katahimikan ay ang kanyang apuradong pag-uwi. Nakabalik na siya sa Pilipinas, sa lubos kong pagkagulat, at ngayon ay nakikitira sa kanyang mga kamag-anak sa Manila, at nagmamayabang na diumano'y namiss ko siya (totoo naman). Hindi ko alam kung bakit, sabagay hindi na siguro importante, kung bakit siya pina-uwi na para bagang salawal lang niya ang kanyang naidala sa pagmamadali. Ang alam ko lang ay narito na siya at pupunta siya sa Cebu sa susunod na linggo dahil sa panibago niyang review, at doon ay magkikita kami—dahil nataong pupunta rin ako (sabay halakhak).

Pilit ko mang hindi manabik sa aming muling pagkikita, matapos ang napakahabang panahon, ngunit sadyang hindi ko mapigilan ang aking sarili—ganoon nga talaga kanyang epekto sa akin. Nanginginig ang aking mga palad na parang pasmadong taga-plantsa, at parang magigiba ang aking dibdib dahil sa lakas ng pagpupumiglas ng aking puso—sa tuwing ito'y naiisip ko. Kaya naman hinintuan ko muna ang pagkakape, at tinigilan ang pagyoyosi, at pinapalipas na lang ang panahon sa pagbabasa ng mga lumang komiks. Ilang araw na lang ngunit animo'y napakatagal ang pagtakbo ng mga oras. Wala pa naman akong pasensya sa paghihintay. Pero magkikita kami, sa wakas, magkikita kami!

Ano kayang mangyayari sa muli naming pagtatagpo, matapos ang marami naming awayan, tampuhan, sigawan, hiwalayan? Makikilala pa kaya niya ako? Hindi kaya siya maiilang, o maasiwa, o muling mamuhi sa akin? Nailalarawan kong ngingiti siya, tatawa na parang lasing, at bigla hahampasin ako sa balikat, o sa noo, o di kaya sa mukha, sabay tanong 'kumusta ka na?' Sasagot ako nang nakangiti, mapapailing at hihimasin ang parte na kanyang pinalo, tatawa siguro, magkukunwang hindi apektado, ipapalagay na hindi kumakabog ang dibdib at nanginginig ang mga daliri. Siguro papayag na siya sa imbetasyon kong mag-kape man lang kami, o mananghalian, o manuod ng sine, o mamasyal sa mall, sa parke, sa krus ni Magellan, sa lumang fort na may istatwang unggoy. Mag-uusap kami, gugunitain ang nakaraan, magsisisi, magkakabistohan... Lintik!

Haay, panaginip.

In an effort to find a lost book this morning, I came instead to find my dearest motherboard, tucked away and almost forgotten inside a cupboard, along with other of its equally forgotten and piteous cohorts. Oh, my poor baby! I have purchased it last year and the only parts that I was able to purchase since then were a pair of memory modules and a storage drive. Financial scarcity forced me to discontinue, although temporarily, my computer project and hid my proud P5N32-E SLI in a dark box. If it could only talk, it would bitterly curse me, its master, and accuse me of blatant abandonment. It had, for a time, given me a sense of purpose in compensation for the complete absence of any; and was once the sole source of joyous excitement when all fell into dreary monotony. It is an ambition I have had for so long, and one that I intend to bring into fruition. As I carefully replaced it in its former place, after methodically checking that all of its contents were present, I renewed the promise I have made. And indeed I will see it through, just as soon as accomplish my present, more important aim. Ah, if only I had money.

I fail to remember whether it was I, out of my being 'affected' and all that, or was it her? who started this sudden unnerving silence. I am more inclined to believe that it was the latter (she has done it in the past, you know) for obscure reasons I have yet to ascertain. Whatever her reasons may be, if there are indeed any, for bluntly imitating a mute, she dare not say. As for me, I have deftly avoided being near the computer, except perhaps for occasions such as this, and uninstalled my messenger program, although in futility (my sister installed it back again). For, even if it were undeniably pleasant and had me suddenly singing songs of love (much to the curiosity and annoyance of the house), there is nothing to be had in conversing with her as there is nothing to be had in pricking one's eye with a rusty nail. I still treasure the friendship we have (or had), of course, but this 'chatting' will not do for it is most detrimental to me and is the foremost culprit for my being wretched. I rather prefer we communicate in other less-frequent, less-personal, less emotionally-damaging methods; to lessen the dosage, as it were. I am missing her terribly, and at times unbearably, for she fills my thoughts the entire day and would frolic in my dreams every night - but I shall continue to be firm, even without the benevolent aide of alcohol, in putting her out of my head completely. It is only prudent and, perhaps, for the best (my feeble attempt to convince myself) and indeed it gained me precious time to be allowed to return to my studies, which has laid in neglect like an obsolete cellphone for days now, and to restore my lost focus back to my present ventures. My receiving a confirmation letter, one which I have anxiously waited a month to arrive, from the CGFNS yesterday served as a soothing consolation to my throbbing misery. The letter gave me, at least, an indication that things were moving along at a steady, if not expedient, pace - thus, renewed my energy upon readying myself for the anticipated NCLEX. I still hope, however, that Stella would send word, if only to declare that I have not earned her ire, and relieve my apprehension for her strange uncommunicativeness - because her friendship, which is all that is left of what we once had, is something that I cherish more than any other.

---

She said, quite vaguely, that 'the bloodiest battles in life are those fought for things that are already lost' - are they not, may I add, the most noble as well?

"I promise you a day will come when our children and grandchildren will look back and they'll ask one of two questions. Either they will ask, 'What in god's name were they doing? Didn't they see the evidence? Didn't they realize that 4 times in 15 years the entire scientific community of this world issued unanimous reports calling upon them to act? What was wrong with them? Were they too blinded, numb by the busyness of political life or daily life to take a deep breath and look at the reality of what we're facing? Did they think it was perfectly alright to keep dumping 70 million tons every single day of global warming pollution into the earth's atmosphere? Did they think all the scientists were wrong? What were they thinking?' Or, they'll ask another question. They may look back and they'll say, 'How did they find the uncommon moral courage to rise above politics and redeem the promise of American democracy and do what some said was impossible and shake things up and tell the special interests, ok we've heard you and we'll do the best we can to take your considerations into account, but we're gonna do what's right."

~Al Gore