Healing Comes In Patches

#9 Backride Buddies

12:54pm.

#6 Some Days Breathe

2pm.

Today, the hours lap over, drooping from one lazy minute to the other. The seconds pass, but they seem to be taking their sweet, sweet time. A gust of wind blows past us. You, slouched in the chair, taking a drag off your cigarette as you attend to your World of Warcraft character. And me, opposite you, resting my head on my crossed arms on the table. I make a mental note to bring a small pillow for the next chill session.

#5 A Potterhead Birthday

7pm.

July. JK Rowling, Harry Potter, and I celebrate our birth month. The new book release is bound to come out, so I knew I’d be getting The Half Blood Prince for my birthday.

Fast forward to 6 hours since we celebrated my day but still, no Book 6.

“They didn’t get the hint,” I say glumly, as I set my bag filled with a week’s worth of clothes on the dormitory floor. Earlier that day, my parents and I passed by National Bookstore. I’ve already lost count of how many times I told them that the book was out.

“We’ll try to get you a copy next time,” they said, probably to shut me up.

I guess the surprise was there was no surprise.

I drag my feet, climb to the bunk bed and begin to sulk, when my phone started ringing.

“Hello, Mama,” I answer dryly.

“You haven’t fixed your clothes yet, have you?” she asks, laughing.

#4 Bathroom Friends Forever 

3am (??) 

I wake up next to my best friend, on the bathroom floor. Naked. 

#3 Travel Wingers

2:38pm.

“Where to next?” I ask.

You look at me, clearly mirroring my confusion. We might as well throw our itinerary away because man was it shitty.

“Anywhere,” you reply.

#2 Fueled By Music 

5:15am. 

#1 Sidewalk Sidekick

12:30am.

Drained from overtime work, we wait for the Uber driver who probably got lost. Whoever thought of naming their building in Salcedo Street “Legaspi Suites” clearly never anticipated the confusion it would create. Salcedo Street is in Legaspi Village and, coincidentally, Salcedo Village and Legaspi Street are different spaces altogether.

At least the heavy rains finally stopped. The ground feels cool with the roads wiped clean. You sit on the sidewalk, light a cigarette and take a long drag that could pass off as a sigh of relief. Without checking, I take the seat beside you, only to be jolted awake by the puddle of water coming into contact with my butt.

The brain remembers too much and too little. Too soon and too late. Oftentimes, conjuring the saddest of memories at the most ungodly hours. My heart feels heavy, and I’ve become exhausted of feeling sad.

This selective attention to detail, put into good use, could be healing. Here are my best and happiest memories sewn together. Some make sense. Others feel random. But stitched together, they create layers of the warmest memories, hopefully powerful enough to coast me through the coldest and loneliest of nights.