Hello there. You’re reading my daily life as it unfolds, though I must ask, why it should interest you to read about it at all. You can tell me in private one day.
Perhaps we like to peek into the other world and be able to see what joins or separates it from our own. Let me open this window for you.
Today is Saturday. I woke up today having the intent of leaving the house early to catch school before the enrollment cutoff. Woke up from a dream, with nebulous imagery. I can only recall that it is about a friendship with an unlikely character. Someone I know. It was a happy dream.
When I woke up, I kissed her face. I realized how affectionate I can be. Sometimes, I just forget everything in a cumulative way. I have to say, I’m thinking less and less of you. Your face does not superimpose in my mind when I am kissing someone else. People have different faces. Do you recall me telling you that women should be loved differently for they are each different from one another? I left out the part that they should be loved as they are.
***
I trailed off about two days ago. I fell asleep writing. It’s almost 4 o’clock now. I still have things to do in school tomorrow. I always wonder who I’ll see in school. How their faces will be when they see me. It does not interest me how we will discuss the banalities of life in the university, however, I still talk and try to appear engaging. My friend Byron told me to always have a smile on your face. It’ll start making one feel more cheered up, he says, no matter how bored, sad and angry you might be. I tend to believe him. And so I’ll try it later.
***
When I was on my way home, it began to rain hard. It was like a small outburst from the heavens. About two minutes later the rain suddenly stopped. Cosmic staccato? Funny. Just when I was quietly thinking to myself how people would manage to go home when they’re stuck in a commute. I know how that is, living very far away from the heart of the city. That used to be my life… I remember those times when I’d pack extra cloths and figure out where to sleepover the next day. Years I found it unbearable to live with my father. One night it was raining, I had planned to sleepover at Marj’s apartment. I was foolish enough to think that a few shots of rum in my body would warm me up. I get cold easily, you see. I need warmth to doze off in to the night. Marj said she understood. She’d let me sleep on her bed while she spent the wee hours playing Zeus on the computer, lording over some virtual colony. This rainy night I’m talking about: it rained hard enough that I lied there with my eyes open, feeling some droplets spit at my face through the jalousie. It was wonderful. I was chilling and gritting my teeth, but was smiling actually. The rain seemed like a companion to me that night and I welcomed her. She tells me “Life is fickle”. Weather, weather lang – as Kuya Kim would put it.
Now, I have my own bed. It is a place very far away from my dad. Sometimes I miss him, just to look at his face and see if I still feel absolutely nothing. Not hate. Not love. Nothing. I feel sad about it. He used to pick me up in the rain sometimes, when he doesn’t feel lazy. Drive all the way to wherever I am after a night of sleeping over at a friend’s house. And he’ll ask me nothing about me. And I would tell him nothing. Instead, he likes to whine about my mother in these long rides, how she left us and left him to take care of “everything” and I’d sit quietly, not quite listening. Looking out the window from the front seat of his car. Leaning on the glass, stoically.
