hi. hello. nanjan ka ba?

ano na? ano na. hoi. san nanaman ako pupunta?
ako, tinatanggay nanaman ata ako. kahit na mabigat. sobra. labo. ewan ko sayo. di kita maintindihan.
di kita maintindihan. di na talaga kita maintindihan. ikaw ba? naiintindihan mo ako? pano nga ba to?
ewan ko. kasalanan mo to. kasalanan nyo lahat to. Si freedom girl? alam nyo ba ang storya nya? putanginanyo. salabahe kayo. ayoko sa inyo.

ayoko sa kanila. nasaan ka na ba? bat ba di kita kasama? di na kita maintindihan. ano na? anong gagawin ko. kwentuhan tayo, sige na, parang awa mo na. para masaya na ulit. kahit di kita nainiintindihan.

alam nyo ba ang storya? ha? putangina nyo. di nyo pala alam e. ang gulo.

gusto ko na bumalik. paano? san na ko pupunta?


ikaw? nasaan ka na ba. naiintidihan mo ba ako?

I haven’t told you about this.

But I got in the university’s official publication… and that’s something big. relatively.

it has been almost five months, and it has been my everything. hahaha, everything. heavy word, eh? but yes, that white-walled office has been the setting for little Gama’s adventures. it was where I found the habit of losing and finding my worth. it was where I felt I fitted in and the place where I felt most alone. That ffffing office has been my heaven and hell. And if I was given the choice to take one fraction of my life to keep forever, I’d choose this part; even if it meant forgetting everything else.

whoa. wait. stop there. hahaha. I’m sounding like a trying, emo bard again.

anyway…

I’m going to quit.

If i can’t make it to the dean’s list again this semester, i’m going to quit.

Maybe waiting til the semester’s end is a form of temporary escape, an excuse of some sort, a screaming memo that shows how weak my will really is…

Because this is not what I want right now. What I want is for this bottle of Red bull to ferment, turn into a sick kind of brandy, and take me out. I want to sleep. Let time pass. And hope that if (and when) I wake up, my decision would have been swayed by hope itself.

I’m not sure if i mean to say "i’m no longer happy." But the magic of seeing your work printed by the thousands fades at the third or fourth time you see the paper wrapped around some stranger’s canvass, or playing with the frogs in the mud. Neither am i sure that i’m improving my skills by drawing standardized illustrations of what the article dictates. i miss the feeling of blood rushing to my cheeks when my professor would show off my plates to classes of higher years. Because all I’ve been seeing from myself lately are these bloodshot eyes, that looks undeniably better than my crammed plate. it consumes you, you see. your time, your chances at joining art contests, your relationships, everything that used to matter.

I wish I could say this is every reason, then it would be easy to win me back. but…


***


As we delivered the CD of the last issue of my high school magazine, I’m sure I heard myself swear to that creepy ol’ printing press that I’d never again work for any kind of publication. ever. I never knew that two years later, i’d be drinking coffee, feathering photos of some basketball players at three in the morning.

So this too might change.



True love, your missing virgo,
~Carla G.

It is the one telling you that you should stop stabbing your hand with the woodcut knife, the one that makes you scream “arayshitputanginangtanga!“ like Gloc9 during the times when you would take out the spaghetti sauce from the oven without using a mitten. It is the screaming urge to take your fucking nose away from the glowing cigarette held by your smashed friend who fell asleep on the table.

Pain is the tone-deaf frogs singing ‘My Way’ inside your chest. It is the stiletto-sporting spiders who discovered the hobby of racing through your veins, and then happy dancing on your finger tips.

Pain is there to let you know that something is amiss.

***

I have always been (and forever will be) awed with the way the human mind works. See, at the slightest sense of this overused four-letter word, the mind sends out an immediate order to the body to take action, to pull away, to steer clear. Of course there are some bodies that would tolerate this for some reason that i would not try to comprehend. as an attempt to save the body from further damage, the mind would lay down more of that unpleasant sensation. and then they would play a fun-filled game of Pusoy dos for moment or two.

But most of the time, tolerance is only a queen of hearts, while pain, a two of diamonds.

Hooray, Mind. Hooray.

***

It is the reason why some people grow eerily silent, and the reason why some people wear shades.

LOL.