Realize

“Thank you, but you know that I like someone else, right?”

“I know,” she replied with a smile not reaching her eyes.

She holds onto her composure as they bid farewell.

Away from prying eyes, she locks herself in the shower, letting the cold spray hit her. Everything falls apart as her emotional dam breaks, making her sob, tremble, and gasp – for air, for understanding. She slides down to the cold wet floor, dry-heaving, pressing her palm to her closed eyes until she sees colors burst, as if not seeing the world will make her invisible.

“No more what-ifs, then.”

Bachelorette's Pad

I was lounging on my couch on a Tuesday night. With the television off, I could hear the humming of the air-con unit, the quiet drip of the still-faulty faucet (note: get that fixed, again), and the barely audible whoosh of a distant passing car. It was oddly quiet in my flat, but I accepted it as reprieve to finish reading my paperback. A faint shuffling of tiny feet brought me out of my reverie. Then, my black-and-white piebald cat with claws out pounced onto my belly, rubbed her cheeks everywhere and meowed stubbornly, as if saying: “Feed me, human!”

Pebble

There was a pebble at the top of the stairs. I don’t know how it got there, so I kicked it to return it to the ground where I thought it supposed to belong. I watched it as it rolled, tumbled, bounced, going down easily. It spun; it flipped; it jerked. My eyes followed its effortless motion: down, down, down.

A knot at the pit of my stomach tightened, overwhelming all my other senses, both numbing and sensitizing. I blinked, and then an intense pain enveloped my body. My face became merely inches away from the pebble, just as easily.

I confessed to you...

And then I kissed you on your right cheek. Surprised, you faced me with questioning eyes. I smiled – the one that I thought was awkward but you said it was lovely anyway. Your expression changed– a mix of anguish and guilt – as you saw my eyes fill with tears. "You can’t do anything about it anymore," I whispered as I caressed your face. I have already stabbed you seven times – your lucky number you said. I even found out that your blood in my hands feels warmer than you can ever be – than you will ever be. As your eyes went blank and your hand felt limp, I learned to be free.

Sinking Feeling

There was a ringing in my ear. No matter how hard I tried to stop it, the high-pitched buzz went on. I covered my ears with my hands, but it did nothing to help.  My eyes shut close, brimming with tears that I couldn’t hold back. Somehow, I was on the floor, twisting and turning, mouthing the words “Make it stop.” I couldn’t hear myself, though I felt my throat getting hoarse.

There was a lump in my throat, sprouted unnoticed but grew until it hindered my airway. I gasped for breath. My heart raced from pain and panic. My body stopped squirming, but my hands touched my ears then my throat. I was frantic, not knowing what to do anymore. As a last resort, my eyes flew wide open, hoping to get a glimpse of the world for the last time. Nobody was around. I was in an unfurnished room all by myself. Only the light bulb on the ceiling was my audience.

“So this is how I die, huh?” I humored myself despite it all. Must have been the lack of oxygen in my brain. This would have been my last thought.

Thunder

Perspectives change, and here's a very good example.

Age 4: That was a very scary sound! I never ever ever want to hear that again. MOMMY!

Age 7: Dad said the gods are playing bowling in heaven. Thunder is when the ball hits the pins. He said that lightning is because of celes– heavenly cameras with flash taking pictures of the game.

Age 10: My aunt said that when God sees people doing bad things, He gets angry and lets out thunder and lightning to scare evildoers. I'm not scared of thunder and lightning anymore; I'm no evil.

Age 12: So here's what really happens: when particles bump into each other, energy is released and it is perceived as lightning (light energy) and thunder (sound energy). Science.

Age 16: OMG! It's Thor! The god of thunder has blessed us with a show of his magnificent powers! THOR! *fangirl squeal*

Age 18: I'll just be warm and cozy under my blankets and sit in a corner of my room and let it– HOLY FREAKING GLOB THAT'S LOUD.


Context: There has been rain with lightning and thunder (I'm not sure if it can be categorized as thunderstorm yet) every night since the start of the week. Some loud bang like glasses crashing and gunshots woke me up one night, and, thus, this.

Pat's Diary: What is happening to my friends?

Dear Diary,

My friends were acting really funny today.

At lunch, Jane talked in her whispering voice. She told us that she finds Ed very cute and made us promise not to tell anyone. Sophie raised an eyebrow, but agreed. Candy and I nodded, but Jane was not assured. So we did our best-friends-only pinky swear. Candy said she thinks he’s cute, too, and Jane glared at her. Then Candy clarified that she finds David handsome, which is better than cute. Jane was frowning at Candy, who was batting her eyelashes as she thought of David dreamily.

Rooftop

The sun was setting when Amy climbed up their flat rooftop – a solitary chair waiting for her as it had some two months now. Every day, she brought a book and read until the natural light dimmed to dusk. Amy was grateful for the open space; near the sky, it seemed appropriate for the journeys she shares with heroes and friends. She finds both book and rooftop respite from what she finds an unexciting, routine-living life.

Today, she sat on the warm seat without a book. Amy was staring at the raised edge of the flat rooftop and thinking what-ifs. Then, she decided that she was not high enough.

Sunday ride

Sunday afternoon. Fair weather as far as the eye can see.

I wheeled out my bicycle from our house unto the dirt path beside the highway, slowly, as I steered clear from the incoming trucks and cars that sped away. I turned to one side and started accelerating parallel to the highway. Each vehicle that passed me sends me angry dusty winds. I wobbled the first few times the air slapped me – right on the face, hard – but I continued to ride on, my balance in check.

Further on, as I pedaled to my heart’s desire, I felt ecstatic to be on a newly-painted, well-oiled bicycle with air-filled wheels, soft new seat and new rubber handlebars. Maybe I should buy myself a bike when I get back to university.

Modernizing Classics

Reading classic works such as those of Verne's and Alcott's is a tedious process, especially that I find their style and use of language far from what my tongue is used ti. Yes, I have enjoyed the stories but it takes me a long time to finish reading the book. Searching polysyllabic and mostly archaic words in the dictionary, many of which I have not even heard spoken by any of my friends or acquaintances fluent in English, or rather, has English as her first language, adds to the time I spend on a book. Complicated words makes it more difficult to understand the meaning of paragraphs, let alone a sentence. I keep losing my concentration when I read classics because I keep losing my interest, too.

To prove a point, I was able to finish a young adult novel by James Patterson in one afternoon. Simple language for the single minded me. And a book being about people my age is added interest. On the other hand, I haven't finished Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, which I started last November. And before that, it took me more than a week to finish his Journey to the Center of the Earth. I blame the Icelandic names of places and things and scientific descriptions every or so paragraph.

Flying in water

The sun was just above the horizon-- high enough to paint the world with golden sunbeams and confirm that dawn is over, low enough to only feel the soft warmth of the blazing ball of fire. I once read that the sun's light takes eight minutes to reach the surface of the Earth. I find it amazing that something from the past would be the very thing that can enlighten people to see the present and help pave the way toward the future.

A cool morning breeze blew.

A bit of water swelled into a small wave, encircling something invisible, growing a bit as it moved away, and instantly replaced by another small wave as soon as it left. One, two, ten, twenty, a hundred waves, and possibly more if they were left in peace, moved across the blue chlorinated water in uniform intervals like the tick and tock of a clock. Ripples. They have the same effect as dominoes falling down consecutively, only the waves become widespread, growing in all directions, instead of one linear motion.

Sandman's Visit

The clock ticked and the clock tocked yet the Sandman has yet to visit me tonight. I have turned off the lights in my room to help me doze off. It was not completely dark; moon beams shine through my window, as if a car was parked directly outside with its headlights left on. I stare at the ceiling as I lie on my bed. Sooner or later, my eyelids will become heavy; I pray it's sooner.

As the silence fill my room, my ears become more accustomed to the sounds of the night-- quiet rustling of the leaves (whether by wind or animal, I do not know), hissing of the fan as it rotates and revolves, an occasional vehicle passing by, hooting of an owl, laughter outside my-- wait, hoot and laughter? I might have mistaken the hoot for a sound of another bird (for there are no owls in our area) but laughter?

I listened harder. It was faint. There was a shrill laugh, there was a deep laugh. There was a laugh that can be mistaken for crying but I was quite sure that it was a laugh. It was getting louder. There was even a laugh that makes you laugh as well. Then the laughter stopped, as suddenly as it begun. I frowned and decided, though half-heartedly, to sneak a peek.

Supposedly

She is supposed to be my batch-mate in UP. She is supposed to be studying right now, like us, for a college degree. And maybe she is supposed to be in one of my classes. I'm not sure. For all I know, she is not supposed to be carrying the burden of a baby in her womb yet.

I suppressed a gasp upon hearing this from her mother. I continued to eat the hotdog sandwich I just bought from their food stall. Her mother was talking to a friend, and, yeah, I have been eavesdropping. I am sorry for myself for having bad manners, but I am more sorry for this girl who is about my age and already practiced procreation as recreation.

No Choice

I watch Ruby as she washes the dishes. Get a dirty plate from the left side, soap it, rinse it and stack on the right. She does it a few more times. Then it's the silverware's turn, which makes a lot of jingling noise. Next, the glassware. She puts them all properly in the rack dry and wipes the rest of the sink and the counter.

I just looked at her, not even daring to start a conversation.

In my mind I think of what my father told me. She is just my age. Like me, she graduated last March from high school. However, she does not plan to go to college. Instead, she would like to work. Slash that. She needed to work.