#confessionalwriting

Maybe that’s safer.

May mga kaklase ka sa buhay na hindi mo agad nakikilala bilang kaklase. Hindi sila pare-pareho ng anyo, pero pare-pareho silang may pinagdadaanan na unti-unting humihila sa kanila palayo. Hindi ito nangyayari nang biglaan. Munting sandali lang sa simula, isang pahinga, isang takas, isang subok para lang gumaan ang isip na laging may bigat na hindi maipaliwanag. Sa una, wala namang mali. Hanggang sa hindi mo na napapansin, hindi na pala iyon ang pahinga, kundi simula ng paglayo.

Sa umpisa, ang maliit na pagtakas ay hindi mukhang delikado. Mukha siyang pahinga, mukhang paraan para makatawid sa sandali, mukhang saglit na katahimikan sa isipang maingay. Walang alarma, walang babala, kasi ang unang bisyo laging may itsurang normal. Hanggang sa hindi mo na napapansin na ang “minsan lang” ay nagiging “ulit na naman.” Dito unti-unting nawawala ang preno—hindi biglaan, kundi yung punto na hindi mo na tinatanong kung tama pa ba, kundi kung kaya pa ba kahit mali na.

May kaklase kang hindi na makatulog kung wala ang kinakapitan, may kaklase kang hindi na makatawa nang buo kung hindi muna nakakakuha ng sandaling ginhawa. Iba-iba ang anyo. Alak. Sugal. Droga. Laro. Screen. Pag-ibig. O kahit anong bagay na kayang tumakip sa isip na maingay. Hindi dahil gusto nilang masira, kundi dahil gusto lang nilang tumahimik.

Habang tumatagal, lumalabo na ang linya. Ang mali nagiging “pwede pa” ang sobra nagiging “kontrolado pa naman” ang delikado nagiging “sanay na ako”. Hindi na nila napapansin na ang sarili nila unti-unti nang binabago ng paulit-ulit na pagkapit. May kaklase kang dati klaro ang tingin sa sarili, pero ngayon parang laging may kulang sa likod ng mata niya.

Ang pinakamabigat na bahagi ay hindi ang simula, kundi yung sandali na napagtanto mong siya na pala ang paraan para hindi maramdaman ang sarili. Yung bagay na sumisira, siya na rin ang tanging bagay na nagpapatahimik. May kaklase kang hindi na makausap ang isip niya nang walang ingay, kasi kapag tahimik, mas naiisip at bumabalik lahat ng hindi na niya kayang harapin.

Hanggang sa lumiit ang lahat. Hindi na malawak ang oras; hindi na malinaw ang bukas. Iisa na lang ang umiikot. Isang kinakapitan, isang daloy, isang paulit-ulit na paghawak sa bagay na hindi naman humahawak sayo pabalik, pero hindi mo rin mabitawan. May kaklase kang hindi na umaalis sa parehong lugar, hindi dahil wala nang ibang daan, kundi dahil hindi na niya maalala kung paano lumabas.

Hindi sila biglang nagbago, hindi sila biglang nawala. Unti-unti silang naging ganoon habang normal pa ang lahat sa paligid.

Kasi ang “Kaklase” ay hindi lang sila. Hindi lang ito tungkol sa ibang tao. Ito ay tayong lahat na may kinakapitan na maliit na ginhawa na unti-unting nagiging bitag, na mismo tayo ang naglatag. Maliit na pagtakas na paulit-ulit na naging ugali, at pinanghahawakan na dahan-dahang naging bahagi ng araw-araw na hindi na napigil hanggang sa nagbago na ang buong direksyon ng buhay.

At doon nagiging malinaw ang lahat: hindi sila ang lumayo, tayo mismo ang tumutulak sa sarili palayo. Tahimik lang, araw-araw, hanggang sa hindi na natin napansin na unti-unti na palang lumiit ang mundo natin habang iniisip nating kontrolado pa rin natin ito.

At kung may natitira mang tanong sa dulo, hindi na ito kung sino ang nawala. Ano ang nawala. Bakit nawala. Bakit kumawala.

Paulit ulit akong nangangako sa sarili ko. Na bukas iba na. Na sa susunod mas matibay na. Na hindi na ako magpapadala. Pero pagdating ng sandali, pareho pa rin ang reaksyon. Pareho pa rin ang pag iwas. Pareho pa rin ang pagkapit sa mga bagay na alam kong hindi naman talaga nakakatulong.

Doon ako naiirita. Hindi dahil mahina ako. Kundi dahil alam ko na dapat mas alam ko na. Ilang beses ko na itong dinaanan. Ilang beses ko na itong sinulat. Ilang beses ko na itong inamin. Pero heto pa rin ako. Umiikot. Parang walang natutunan.

Parang dumaan lang ang lahat. Parang binangga ako ng buhay paulit ulit, pero wala man lang naiwan. Walang aral. Walang marka. Walang dalang kahit ano. Para akong umalis sa giyera na walang sugat pero walang natutunan kung paano umiwas sa bala.

Ang dami ko nang maling desisyon. Ang dami ko nang sinayang na pagkakataon. Ang dami ko nang binayaran. Pero tuwing babalik ako sa simula, para pa rin akong walang karanasan. Walang baong karunungan. Walang dalang babala. Parang hindi ko man lang pinulot ang mga piraso ng sarili ko sa bawat pagbagsak.

Siguro ito yung mas masakit aminin. Hindi lang ako nasaktan. Hindi lang ako nagkamali. Kundi parang wala rin akong nakuha. Parang hindi naging puhunan ang sakit. Parang hindi naging guro ang pagkakamali. Dumaan lang. Tapos iniwan akong pareho pa rin.

Siguro ganito talaga kapag paulit ulit kang nasanay sa sakit. Nagiging ingay na lang siya. Hindi na leksyon. Hindi na paalala. Isang background lang habang nagpapatuloy ka sa parehong direksyon.

Hindi pa ako nagbabago. Totoo. Pero hindi na rin ako yung dati na hindi umaamin. At minsan, sapat na muna iyon para magpatuloy.

Chapter 1

I was masturbating and suddenly I shaved my balls without any warning. The lower area started bleeding and that made me tense like an idiot, like an animal. What am I doing? I said very loudly. Should I call the police? But nothing mattered at that moment.

From the other apartment there was a happy guy making love to his wife, and that was wonderful. I felt a strange connection with them, but I could only see them from my room.

Anyway, I got up and threw all my things to one side of my bed. Suddenly the phone rang and it was emergency services calling me urgently because of a report I had previously made. They spoke to me:

—Are you okay? —Yes, I spoke calmly. —Because we’ve received a report of a scream from upstairs.

They changed their tone and repeated again:

—Are you okay?

I yelled at them:

—Yes, shit, I’m fine, damn it.

They told me I had to calm down, but that wasn’t the only thing that happened. Downstairs there was a party, and at that party was my ex-wife. Yes, I know all this sounds like existential drama, but for fuck’s sake all of this was happening while I was bleeding out like a filthy vermin.

My name wasn’t very pleasant. They called me Rocky because I exercised every day and played the song from the tiger. That motivated me, that excited me. But damn it, I felt sad.

The next morning, after the paramedics saved my right testicle, everything seemed calm, but suddenly I saw from my apartment that a protest was coming. And it wasn’t just any protest, it was one of little dogs and unicorns, or so I wanted to assume. I didn’t think I was drugged, although I was a bit confused, yes.

And about my ex-wife: yes, she moved away from me because she realized she couldn’t handle me in bed. I know that sounds terrible; for any man that’s a low point. But even so I wanted to continue, and she refused. She said that without sex relationships don’t work. Shit, that hit my ego a little, but it was the least of it, so I sent her to hell.

She went to live with a friend of mine who lived on the second floor. Curiously, this friend was a two-legged rat and had secretly spoken with my ex-wife so she could live with him, with the promise of making her very happy sexually speaking. That fucked my mind so much that the only thing I started doing was masturbating like a madman thinking about her, and for that reason I almost lost a testicle.

That’s the story of why my ex-wife was partying downstairs. What a headache it is to hear her moan, shit man, that breaks my heart, although I’m already working on doing better in love.

The Rocky thing was definitely because of the movie, but back then I was high and, despite the extreme cold, I went out to exercise. I know it sounds illogical, but I did it. It was because of a challenge from some friends, and those friends were my brother and a guy from high school whose name I barely remember. What I do remember is that my ass was freezing, but I had motivation.

My brother carried an old radio, one of those from the 80s, and they played the tiger song. His friend carried cigarettes to warm the body. Unfortunately, when we were going down near the subway, he slipped hard and all the cigarettes fell into the water.

My brother told me:

—Rocky, you’ve got balls.

He said it with his hoarse voice from smoking so much, and I told him:

—Yes, yes I can, damn it.

I laughed out loud because that moment was unique and unforgettable.

We managed to reach downtown, but by then I couldn’t feel my legs anymore and everyone looked at us with disbelief. It was poetic, surreal. It was my world, an odyssey. And that was it for that long and stupid night.

Chapter 2

When I had problems I always talked with my brother. We were inseparable. Despite our differences, we had good chemistry, something few people managed to have with me, because people tended to be awful, damn it, total shit.

Every now and then there was always some big guy who looked down on me, but my brother would jump into action and burst out laughing for no reason at all. That made people uncomfortable. That was mean, as he used to say.

—I’m mean, brother.

He laughed out loud. Damn, I felt well accompanied, not only because my life was complete chaos, but because it was interesting. I think at some point we start thinking whether life truly has vitality for us, and that was always in my head. That’s why therapy sessions were burned into my photographic memory.

Oh brother, I love going to therapy and dumping all my shit non-stop. It’s healing. It’s like the climax at the end of sex. Could we call it that? Is it poetic or not?

Anyway, that session arrived late as usual. I was running like an absolute son of bitches. This time I came alone and had no one to accompany me. Damn, I felt abandoned.

I was waiting outside in the lobby, signing one of the papers to get in, and damn there were strange people. Strange like me, you could say. Or maybe not.

Fuck, the anxiety I had. A massive amount of sweat ran through my body and down my back. Old women, as always, tend to look at you more than once because deep down they’re calibrating you, measuring you like a barometer. Holy shit, it annoyed me a lot.

Sometimes there were also some pretty girls. It’s almost sick to know that I have to go to therapy and still feel some sexual impulse, but we won’t call it that; we’ll call it attraction. I felt attraction toward the girls, the patients, but then the desire went away because I knew they weren’t on my wavelength. We weren’t connected. We weren’t Romeo and Juliet, for the love of the devil.

Damn, I really sound like a true lunatic. That’s normal in psychiatric hospitals. You always see someone out of place who thinks they’re special, just like I felt. That shit is curious, but whatever.

The time was approaching. There was only one patient left besides me before they would see me and I could unload all my clownery. Damn, I loved contact with fire, that thing of burning myself and reigniting again. It was addictive, but ephemeral, something that leaves and never returns, just like my ex-wife.

Shit, that reminds me I have to wear headphones every time I go to sleep so I don’t hear her damn crazy screams.

Finally they saw me, and I won’t lie, I have a strange connection with my doctors. They talk and I listen. I talk and they don’t listen. It’s like I throw an apple and shit, the apple comes back to my hands with a little sign that says I don’t give a fuck.

Anyway, it was eleven thirty in the morning and I used to call the doc Sonic. And you might wonder why Sonic? Because Sonic is fast and speedy, and my doc was the same, one hundred percent effective. But sometimes he just ran through life. It was strange, but I liked the name.

—I call you, doc, how are you?

He looked at me with a deep smile and touched his hair.

—Are you okay? he asked.

I answered quickly and told him I was fine, that everything had gone according to plan, and that I felt better with his Playboy-cover-magazine advice. He laughed a little and we continued the conversation.

I told him about my problems, about how I couldn’t face the fear of others looking me in the face. It was strange, but yes, I was afraid. People used to look at me weird, and that scared me.

—Look, let’s do this, he answered energetically.

I told him it was fine and that I’d play along. He replied:

—I want you to have a routine.

He grabbed his notebook and wrote some things down.

I asked him what kind of things I’d have to do, and he spoke again:

—You need to do sports, Rocky. You’re locked in your room all the time.

He touched his hair again and smiled.

I answered:

—But watching Friends isn’t bad. I’d say it’s charming.

The truth is I love spending my time watching movies. It’s like a frustrated dream because I wanted to be a film director and it never happened for obvious reasons. But the fact that I loved Friends made it even more interesting.

He kept reviewing some things and finished by saying I had to let things go. It was time for me to become a blue-eyed dragon and stop being just a sparrow, something like that. He looked at me again with a smile and hugged me, whispering:

—You can do it, man.

It had been a strange session. Like I explained, my doc was like Sonic, and that day was definitely a flash and a short film. Action and cut.

I loved that idea of having to put love into things, but well, I had to follow my therapist’s advice. When I left the psychiatric hospital my balls hurt a lot. Maybe it was because of the accident, but I doubted it.

I grabbed a nearby phone and called my brother. I asked if he could come pick me up. He said yes, but that traffic was insane, so the best thing I could do was walk a bit to warm up my legs.

That’s what I did. There was a nearby path where I used to walk with my father. I went that way and headed toward the harbor. There I saw everyone running like madmen. Damn, everyone was excited. I saw their faces full of sweat. It almost looked like an old people’s fair.

I started running too. This little ass of mine had to get hot. I had to get back in shape. That put me at one hundred percent. That and the girls, except there were none.

Chapter 3

I think the best thing one can do is sit down, take a peaceful shit, and listen to a rock song. That turns me on more than a night of sex, and even if it sounds one-sided and strange, it’s fantastic.

I was already tired of that bullshit of tutorial videos for achieving a perfect life, and with all the routine stuff I had to plan exactly what I wanted to do because, damn it, I was a mess. I was fat, well, not that fat, but my figure was failing me.

So I turned on the TV and put on a DVD of the hottest beasts. Only seconds passed before I got into action.

I did good routines, kept the rhythm well. Oh baby, that drives me crazy. I said it in my head. I need to do more routines. The doc knows what he’s talking about. I need to feel strong and dominant.

I blasted the volume to the maximum so the other neighbors could hear me. Then I heard a whistle coming from downstairs. It was that seventy-year-old grandfather again, who never stopped with interracial porn. Shit, that annoyed me a lot, although I admit the old man had good taste.

So I had a verbal exchange with old Frederick.

—That ass is well toned, Rocky? he said smiling.

What do you want, old man?

—Relax.

He grabbed a broomstick and pointed it at me.

—We all have problems. You’re not the only one, Rocky.

—Of course I’m not the only one, you old clown.

He started laughing and sat near the window to smoke a cigarette while I finished my intense cardio with a Chris Brown song.

We had another exchange.

—I think you should make a fool of yourself, Rocky, he said loudly.

Old man, that’s weird coming from you. You usually like putting on a triple-X movie and joking nonstop. It’s really strange that you’re talking to me like you’re my father.

—The truth is, Rocky, I don’t have much time left…

And I thought: what’s wrong with this old man now?

The truth is I didn’t really care about the old man’s life. I couldn’t give a fuck, and that’s funny. Just thinking about it made me laugh.

—Old man, I already told you I’m not interested in your opinions.

I said it loud and clear. The old man didn’t flinch. He stayed silent, and just as he came, he left. He slammed the door of his second-floor apartment.

Shit, I told myself, I must’ve annoyed him quite a bit.

Anyway, I had to keep going.

About the old man, well, there isn’t much to tell. He was in the war, an elite soldier. I don’t understand how he went from soldier to watching interracial porn. Damn, I don’t understand it.

Sometimes I think I’m dreaming, like I’m smoking. I think it helps me forget my shitty life.

And that chapter closes with some humor, as it should.

Chapter 4

Sometimes I tried to please my parents so I wouldn’t be just another idiot, but life cuts across you like a damn rifle, and one shot decides everything. It’s the question of life or death, I think. And my brother comes into that… a small reckless sprout drawn by life.

—How are you, brother? I said loudly.

—I’m fine, Rocky. I see you’ve got that ass well toned.

—I think you’re copying that old guy.

—I don’t doubt it. These are my own words.

I see. So as not to call him just brother, we’ll give him a name, and it’ll be Naruto. Why Naruto? Naruto is blond with blue eyes. My brother is somewhat like him, with a broken, destroyed childhood, with rejection from the masses.

He’s a damn survivor who never gives up, damn it. But beyond the character Naruto, I’ll only mention him because of his blond hair.

—Hey Naruto, are you going to send me a Rasengan?

—What the fuck are you talking about, Rocky? he said, confused.

Relax, I know why I’m telling you.

Hmm… little bastard, don’t give me weird names.

I laughed loudly.

May mga sandali na hindi naman malalim ang nangyari, pero tumatama siya sa isang parte mo na matagal nang hindi nagagalaw. Yung simpleng biruan sa mesa, tapos bigla kang napatawa nang hindi mo mapigilan. Yung tawang may tunog ng pagod, may halong ginhawa. Bago mo pa mapansin, may luha kang pinupunasan. Hindi dahil malungkot, kundi dahil hindi mo na maalala kung kailan ka huling tumawa nang ganito.

Meron ding mga tagpong hindi mo inasahang bubuksan ka. Yung biglang may nag-abot ng bagay na matagal mo nang gusto pero hindi mo sinasabi. Yung simpleng “andito lang ako” na hindi mo hinihingi pero dumating. Yung mababaw na success na sa totoo lang, hindi naman malaking bagay sa iba, pero para sa isang taong sanay magtiis, parang may nabasag sa loob. Masaya ka. Pero may luha. Kasi hindi ka sanay sa gaan.

Minsan naman, natatawa ka sa gitna ng gulo. Yung tipong mali mali ka na sa stress, at biglang may nangyaring sobrang kabobohan kaya pareho mong naramdaman ang takot at katawa-tawa. Yung sandaling kinain ka ng pagod pero binawi ng isang simpleng biro. Hindi mo alam kung dapat kang magreklamo o tumawa. Kaya ginawa mo pareho.

Ang iyak-tawa ay hindi contradiction. Hindi siya clash. Parang maliit na puwang kung saan pumapantay ang bigat at gaan. Parang saglit na pahinga kung saan hindi mo kailangang magpanggap. Hindi mo kailangang mamili kung alin ang totoo sa nararamdaman mo. Kasi pareho silang totoo. Pareho silang sa iyo.

--///--

Paulit-ulit ka ng course pero nakagraduate ka rin. Nakakatawa sa labas kasi parang running joke na, pero noong hawak mo na yung diploma, hindi mo alam kung tatawa ka dahil sa dami ng beses mong muntik sumuko, o iiyak ka dahil hindi ka bumitaw.

Natanggap ka sa trabaho pagkatapos ng isang taon mong pag-aapply. Sanay ka na sa “We regret to inform you,” tapos biglang may email na “Congratulations.” Mapapahalakhak ka sa disbelief, at may kasunod na luhang tutulo.

Nagtipid ka nang todo, tapos noong sweldo mo nagkaproblema sa payroll. Nakakatawa sa malas, at may kasunod na konting iyak sa frustration.

Sobrang kabado ka sa interview, tapos basic lang ang tanong. Nakanganga ka lang, tapos naiiyak sa pag-uwi dahil na-realize mong hindi ka pala bobo, sobrang pagod ka lang noon.

Nag-resign ka sa galit, tapos niregret mo pagkatapos makita mong mababa pala yung final pay. Hahalakhak ka sa sarili, pero masakit din.

Hindi mo alam ang sagot sa recitation, pero lahat ng hindi mo alam tinawag ng prof. Napatawa ka sa absurdity, at naiiyak sa biyahe pauwi dahil ramdam mo na pagod ka na sa pakiramdam na kulelat.

Nag-ipon ka ng confidence para mag-confess, tapos ang sagot niya ay “hala di ko napansin.” Awkward tawa, at may marahang kirot.

Nanalo ka sa raffle, pero ang nakuha mo pinakamurang item. Malakas ang tawa mo, at may luha sa dulo dahil matagal ka nang walang nararanasang swerte.

Akala mo bagsak ka sa finals, tapos pasado ka pala. Tumawa ka agad, at nang nasa jeep ka na, may luha kang pinahid dahil isang buwan kang hindi nakatulog.

Nagka-crisis ka sa buhay, tapos biglang may promo ang favorite mong pagkain. Tumawa, at may kasunod na konting iyak.

Ilang taon mong niligawan, pero basted ka pa rin sa huli. Nakakatawa sa tagal mong nag-invest, pero pag-uwi mo, may luha kang pinigilan dahil ginawa mo ang lahat, pero hindi ikaw ang pinili. Ayos sana kung napunta ka sa "FRIENDZONE" kaso kahit dun hindi ka napunta.

Kapag sobrang pagod ka pero may nagbitaw ng timing na biro. Halos sumuko ka na sa araw, tapos may sinabi ang kaibigan mo na sa iba baka hindi nakakatawa, pero sa iyo parang may nabuksang pinto. Tumawa ka nang sobra, at may lumabas na luha dahil iyon lang ang ginhawang natanggap mo buong linggo.

Kapag matagal mong hinintay ang isang bagay at sa wakas nangyari. Simpleng good news lang—natanggap mo, naayos ang problema, gumaan ang bigat, at masaya ka sa iisang hininga.

Kapag may nagregalo o nagbigay ng maliit na kabaitan na hindi mo hiningi. “Uy naalala kita kaya binili ko ’to,” o “Inreserve ko sayo yung upuan.” Para sa iba babaw, pero para sa isang taong hindi sanay alagaan, nakakabiyak siya. Tatawa ka, at may luha sa gilid.

Kapag may nakwento kang mababaw na memorya at biglang umabot sa core mo. Kwentuhan lang, childhood, kalokohan… hanggang mapansin mo na masaya ka, pero may lungkot na sumisingit.

Kapag sobrang saya ng tropa, tapos may isang maliit na bagay na kumalabit sa emosyon mo. Lahat sila humahagalpak, at ikaw biglang nahuli ng sarili mong luha. Nag-overflow ka lang.

Kapag nag-crack ka sa sobrang pagod. Nasa gitna ka ng trabaho o problema, tapos may nangyaring sobrang kabaliwan… natabig mo tubig, mali yung pinasa mo, napa-utang ka nang hindi sinasadya. Naiinis ka pero natatawa, hanggang umabot sa luha dahil sobrang naipon ang bigat.

Kapag may narealize kang huli na. Na okay ka na, na napatawad mo na, na kaya mo pala. Yung realization na hindi mo hinahanap, pero tumama nang direkta. Masaya ka, malungkot ka, magkasabay.

Kapag matagal kang hindi masaya, tapos biglang may sandaling totoong magaan. Hindi mo alam ang gagawin. Hindi ka sanay. Kaya tumawa ka nang sobra, at umiyak nang konti… kasi puwede pala.

At sa huli, ang lahat ng iyak at tawa ay sabay. Hindi mo kailangan pumili. Hindi mo kailangan itago ang bigat o pilitin ang saya. Pareho silang sa iyo, pareho kang buhay. Ang mga luha mo ay hindi palatandaan ng kahinaan, at ang tawa mo ay hindi laging pagkakalimot. Pareho silang pahintulot na maramdaman ang lahat, ang pagod, ang ginhawa, ang sorpresa, at ang simpleng kasiyahan.

Sa gitna ng lahat, may maliit na puwang para huminga. Para lang sa iyo. Isang puwang kung saan pwedeng magpahinga ang puso at isip, kahit sandali lang. Isang puwang na nagsasabi na okay lang maging tao, na okay lang mapagod at mapasaya. Na sa bawat iyak, may tawa; at sa bawat tawa, may iyak. Na sa dulo, hindi mo kailangan pilitin ang sarili.

Dito mo mararanasan ang kabuuan ng pagiging buhay. At sa bawat paghinga mo sa maliit na puwang na iyon, mararamdaman mo na ang lahat ng nangyari sa iyo, lahat ng luha, lahat ng tawa, ay hindi nasayang. Lahat ng ito ay sa iyo. --///--

May mga tao kang nakilala sa isang bahagi lang ng buhay mo. Sandali lang, pero sapat para may bakas sila sa isip mo. May tawanan, may kwento, konting tampuhan, konting pagkakaintindihan.

May mga nakausap ka sa Tumblr o sa dating site, kahit type niyo lang ang isa’t isa at hindi nagkapalagayan. Siguro hindi kayo nakatadhana sa isa’t isa. May mga nakilala ka dahil pareho kayo ng trip, hilig, o libangan, pero magkalayo ang mundo niyo. May mga nakilala ka dahil pinagbentahan mo siya ng gamit, o ikaw naman ang bumili. May mga naging katrabaho ka, pero nauna siyang nag-resign. May mga naging klasmeyt ka sa isang subject, at pagkatapos niyo lang magtapos, nawala rin siya sa kwento mo.

May mga nakilala mo sa isang event o meetup, exhibit, concert, community gathering, pero hindi kayo naging close. May mga nakilala mo sa online forum o group chat tungkol sa hilig niyo, pero lumipas ang panahon at nag-iba ang priorities. May mga nakilala mo dahil kaibigan niya ang kaibigan mo, o kaibigan niya ng kaibigan mo, small talk lang pero may kwento. May mga nakilala mo sa short project o collaboration, pero pagkatapos ng deadline, nawala rin. May mga nakilala mo sa klase o seminar, sandali lang pero may alaala. May mga nakilala mo sa mga lugar na madalas mong puntahan, cafe, bookstore, library, ngunit hindi nagtagal ang interaction. May mga nakilala mo sa fandom o hilig na pareho niyo, pero hindi na naipagpatuloy ang conversation. May mga nakilala mo sa travel o trip, train, bus, plane, sandali lang pero may kwento kayong napag-usapan. May mga nakilala mo sa social media sa pamamagitan ng mutual friend, pero hindi niyo na na-develop ang connection.

Ngayon, iniisip mo minsan: kamusta na kaya sila? Siguro may ilan na abala sa trabaho o sa school, pero naiisip pa rin ang mga kwento niyo na dati. Siguro may natututo ng bagong bagay, naglalakbay sa lugar na pinangarap, o tahimik lang sa mundo na may sariling paraan ng pag-alala sa nakaraan. May ilan na nakahanap ng bagong gawi, bagong libangan, bagong mundo na hindi mo na bahagi. At may ilan rin na natuto sa mga sandaling iyon, mga kwento, tampuhan, at tawanan, at dala niya iyon sa mga desisyon niya ngayon.

Lahat ng sandaling iyon, parang dumarating lang at dumadaan. May pakiramdam, may kwento, pero nagiging memorya na lang.

Kaya kung umabot ka sa bahaging ito dahil hindi ka tinamad basahin ang gawa ko, puwede mo akong kamustahin. Malay mo, baka nag-usap na tayo dati. Siguro isa sa atin ang hindi nag-reply kaya naputol ang ugnayan. Pero wag ka mag-alala, kapag nag-mensahe ka ng "Kamusta?", hindi kita sasagutin ng "Ayos lang, ikaw ba?" kundi ikukwento ko pa kung kamusta na ako talaga.

Bago nagkaroon ng Facebook, Twitter (X na siya ngayo), Tumblr, Friendster, MySpace, at kung anu-anong algorithm na sinusubukang hulaan ang pagkatao ko - slambook muna ang social network ko. Kapag nasubukan mong sumagot sa Slam Book, pareho na tayong medyo gurang.

Isang notebook na binili sa National Bookstore. Bulaklakin ang cover, may mga heart-heart sa gilid, at amoy pabango ng Victoria’s Secret na pinilit ipaamoy kahit di mo hiningi.

Doon nagsimula ang lahat:

Ang pagkukunwari, ang pagpapakatotoo, at ang kasaysayang hindi sinasadya.

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Profile ni Black sa Slambook

Pangalan: Sekreto Muna

Palayaw: Black, Tim, minsan “Pre” kapag wala silang maalala

Sex: Sure.

Zodiac Sign: Leo – gusto kong laging bida, pero kadalasan narrator lang ng buhay ng iba.

Libangan: Magtanong ng tanong na ayaw sagutin. Magkwento ng kwentong ayaw ulitin.

Kasabihan: Vincit Omnia Veritas – Truth conquers all at "Time is gold when watching bold"

Ambisyon: Magkapera. Kahit hindi milyonaryo, basta may pananghalian.

Kinakatakutan: Magutom - literal, emosyonal

Course: Golf course. Of course. Life’s obstacle course.

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Mga Paborito

Kulay: Pula – rebolusyon ng damdamin

Libro: Lahat ng sinulat ni Roberto (kahit hindi ko alam kung sino siya)

Sports: Bisikleta – para kung gusto kong lumayo, may dahilan (Sports ba ito?)

Kanta: "Bawal na Gamot" – kasi masarap pakinggan kahit bawal ang tema

Subject sa School: P.E. – kasi kahit papano, may galaw kahit tambay

Pelikula: "Forrest Gump" – kasi kahit tanga siya, dire-diretso ang takbo

Pagkain: Dinuguan – maitim, malapot, malasa, delikado

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Define Love

Love is blind.

Love is a rosary full of mystery.

Love has four letters, pero ilang taon mong dadalhin.

Love is like bubble gum—pag dumikit, kumakapit.

Love is sweet. Pero 'di mo puwedeng kainin sa gutom ng kaluluwa.

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Tanong-tanong, Sagot-sagot

Gusto ko: Mapuntahan ang mga lugar na hindi ko pa kayang puntahan kahit sa isip

Hinihiling ko: Maging maayos ang mga buhay—kahit hindi akin

Ayaw ko sa: Pork… lalo na ‘pag sinungaling

Nagtataka ako: Tatalab kaya sa akin ang gluta?

Pinagsisisihan ko: Yung mga bagay na hindi ko ginawa. At yung ilang bagay na ginawa ko kahit ayaw ko

Mahal ko: Yung mga taong hindi agad umalis

Palagi akong: Nagtatanong ng may halong lungkot

Iiyak ako kapag: Naubos ang buwaya sa bansa - pero dahil masaya ako (Tears of Joy)

Hindi ako mabubuhay nang walang: Hangin. Kasi kahit walang pagkain, pwede pang huminga

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Oo o Hindi

Naninigarilyo: Oo. Pero paunti-unti, gaya ng paglimot

Umiinom ng alak: Oo. Lalo na pag may rason na wag uminom

Nagbibigay ba sa namamalimos: Oo, pag may barya at may konsensya

Matagal maligo: Limang minuto. Sapat na para burahin ang ilang dumi, pero hindi ang alaala

Umibig na ba: Oo. Sa maling tao, maling oras, at minsan, sa sarili ko

Gusto bang maikasal: Depende - kung kaya niyang isama ang multo ko sa altar

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Slambook: The First Feed

Sa slambook ko unang narinig ang salitang “crush” na hindi galing sa panga.

Doon ako unang nagsinungaling tungkol sa paboritong kanta ko.

Doon ko unang naramdamang may interes pala sa akin, kahit sa pamamagitan lang ng papel.

Ngayon, sa internet… parang lahat open book.

Pero noon, sa slambook. May privacy, may amoy, may bulaklak.

At bawal i-lock ang profile.

At sa mga huling pahina?

Mga mensahe ng pasasalamat na totoo man o hindi,

eh sapat nang dahilan para maalala kang minsan,

may sumagot sa mga tanong mo.

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May kwento ako.

Basta sagot mo ang kape ko.

Please, click mo yung link.