#feelingwriter

Beginning.

I still remember the first time I saw you.

I can still see your smiling face when you told everyone to “Fuck off.”

Yes. I was there that time just watching at the little corner of that bar.

It was actually fun seeing how you manage to say those things when you are a little drunk.

It was indeed creepy, your smile, and a little scary when you talk but I liked it.

I liked how’d you tell those men who wanted to woo you to fuck off, it’s not every day that I see a woman standing up for herself.

That was the first time, and obviously not the last time that I saw you.

After that night, I can’t take you off my mind.

I have been to places to find you, I got tired, but I didn’t stop till I finally did.

I saw how happy you are with him and felt like I have no chance in you.

We became friends, best of friends.

And that was the most ridiculous thing I have ever done, but I didn’t regret it.

I loved how you were happy, I loved how’d you smile from those little things.

I hated seeing you drowning into your own tears when he left you.

It hurts when you choose not to talk to anyone, most especially with me but what can I do?

You build high walls that no one can break through.

And you know what’s the thing that hurts the most?

It is seeing you lying on your bedroom floor with your own blood all over you.

It is too late. it is too late to save you.

You took away your life. You took away my paradise.

And now I was still here devastated. Lost.

And hoped that I can turn back that time when everything was fine.

But I can’t.

How can I find another paradise when I’m stuck in that simple paradise you have made?

This was the letter I have had found left in the table of the bar I always went to.

I hate how it made me tear up.

The kind of guy who wrote this is as unusual as the one he talks about.

I didn’t know if it’s just another story someone made up or a real story of another person to tell.

But still I fold the paper in four and kept it inside my pouch.

I drink the last shot of the tequila I ordered and left.

Like the guy who wrote it.

I was just browsing Facebook one day doing whatever it is kids my age do when using it. And when I just finished watching a video of how to make a no-bake cheesecake, I stumbled upon a news article saying that Imelda Marcos attended a mass for Martial Law victims. Of course being me, I laughed at the article without really reading it. And just like any person browsing Facebook, I did what I had to do: move on and hopefully not see a picture of the girl who broke my heart. Okay, the last part isn’t true (at least for that particular day), but I really did scroll past the article and continued browsing Facebook mindlessly. However, I had to read the article some days after so that I can make this media log.

           The header of the article (as shown in the screenshot) says “Imelda attends mass for martial law victims”. Basically, that will give you an idea of what went down. And I’m supposed to summarize or to tell what happened. If you don’t want to read this part, you may skip it, but then again you really can’t because you won’t be able to fathom my words in the succeeding paragraphs. So going back, everybody knows that every Wednesday is Baclaran day, right? I’m just checking if you know. The article says that Imelda happens to be a patron of the Our lady of Perpetual Help and that she is frequently seen in Baclaran Church or The Shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual help in Paranaque every Wednesday, but by mere coincidence, the mass she attended on this particular Wednesday was before the celebration of the EDSA People Power Revolution and it was dedicated to the victims of the martial law and there was going to be an exhibit right after the mass. It did say that Imelda didn’t seem to be angry, but she did leave after communion. Also the other churchgoers didn’t do any badmouthing whatsoever.  That’s basically it.

           Have you ever went in a classroom and heard that some people were talking about you right before they stopped because they saw you? Awkward isn’t it? And you guys have to sit next to each other throughout the class. Maybe this is what Imelda and the other churchgoers felt. And let me intensify the hypothetical awkward silence by stating the fact that they were talking about what you did some 30 years ago. If I were to be a passerby, I’d probably cringe at the situation and probably make a little humor about it. But seriously those are the ingredients for a big ruckus on a Wednesday morning. But everyone present are rational, civil, well-mannered, and refined, the whole situation seemed to roll off everyone’s shoulders. And how is this even political you may ask? If the word “martial law” rings a bell to you and you payed attention during Sibika class, then my good Sir and/or Madame, it is absolutely, without a hint of doubt political. I just wanted to make that clear.  

           You know what? I’d like to think that what had happened was “purely coincidental”, but I’m not that kind of person who just eats up whatever is shown in front of me. I think she knows what that mass on that particular day in that particular time was for. Come on, she’s a congresswoman; she has eyes and ears almost everywhere. Don’t you think that it was, excuse the term, a gimmick? The elections are coming up people! That time of year where the potholes on the roads that went unfixed for several months magically becomes a patch of remedial concrete. Or the splendid time where politicians suddenly become prompted to go to local markets and mingle with the townsfolk. Or when they are seen managing traffic in the rain. Who knew they were capable of that?

            What am I ranting on about? I’m saying is that it’s election season and it’s a move for them to make the name Marcos stick to everyone’s mind again. Bongbong is running for vice president for Pete’s sake! That’s a huge position to run for. So why not make a way to make people remember him or anything or anyone related to him to reverberate in the back of their heads. It is like a very subtle campaign advertisement. And a brilliant one if you ask me, because anything subtle is a factor for decision-making situations. One way or another you have experienced this, but maybe in a non-election-related situation. For example, a guy likes a girl, and this particular guy didn’t like this particular girl before, but several days before his friends or bros said that they liked this girl and unfortunately he was present when these words travelled the air. And then one day he felt a big juicy slap land right across his face leaving a big red inflamed mark saying “YOU LIKE THIS GIRL WITH ALL YOUR HEART”, and yes in all caps. And he genuinely believes he does like her, but he doesn’t know why! If I may say more things, this is the reason why some people use wingmen or wing women, to plant in the mind of a person that “this particular person is the best person you will meet or ever meet in the whole duration of your life”.

           This is the best time to show that you are the best human there was and will be. Make them forget the bad stuff and remember the good ones! Imelda’s churchgoing mishap happened just before the day of the celebration of a big day in our history; people will remember whatever it is that they will remember. Bad memories will hopefully be erased because Imelda seemed to show compassion for the victims because she still stuck around for the mass, even if it’s just a sign of respect for the mass, that notion will still push through somehow So what I’m saying is that this event is a mind-planting scheme made to be effective on the day of the elections. But then again, these are only my thoughts. Of course, I don’t know everything that have happened or why they happened. My intention is just to present another perspective on a particular incident, and I hope upon reading the article and this media log of mine stimulate some thinking in everyone’s noggin.

Reference:

Sweating profusely because of the tension that you had left

And still lingering in my heart,

Still, my body trembles

But we are nothing.

 We are nothing

We had no memories to reminisce

We had no heartbreaks to endure

We don’t have a month to remember and to celebrate.

 Peculiar feelings that only our eyes can discern

And if only our heart can tell what is inside,

Cause our mouth keep silent

Since we are nothing,

 We are nothing compare to others,

We keep hiding, hindering and withholding

Those feelings, that wants to blossom and to spark

For a long time since we met, still remains a clandestine mystery.

 We are nothing,

But in God’s perfect time

When both of us are fearless and doubtless

Sa buhay kong lahat ay mali

Ikaw ang tama

Ikaw ang bawat sagot

Sa patnugot

Sa crossword puzzle

Sa exams

Sa oral recitation

Sa problem solving

Sa thesis

Sa equation

Sa tanong sa slam book na "What is love?"

Ikaw.

Ang 'yong bawat pagngiti

Ang 'yong bawat paghawak sa aking mga kamay

Ang 'yong bawat halakhak sa korni kong joke

Ikaw.

Huwag mong sabihing hindi mo nadarama

Ang pagsinta at tuwa sa tuwing tayo'y magkasama

Ang lapit ng 'yong puso

Ang hangin ng pagsinta

Na parehas nating pinagsasaluhan, sinta

Magulo, hindi alam

Walang muwang na nahuhulog na ang puso sa'yo

Ang araw ay kulang kung walang kwentuahan

"Anong ginawa mo ngayong araw?" linyang inaabangan

Bago matulog, "Goodnight! Salamat sa kwentuhan."

Aasa pa ba? Dapat bang maniwala? Dapat bang magtiwala?

Sana'y nalaman ko ang laman ng 'yong puso at isipan