Tanggero

I noticed you the moment I entered the room. You were sitting on the other couch, along with four other boys. You were easily the best-looking guy there, with your loose basketball shorts and sporty cap. I was never particularly attracted to such types before but you just exuded this irresistible boyish charm. And that got to me, I'm afraid.

I took a seat to your front, and while my friend who was the host was fussing over me, I kept stealing glances at your direction. Surreptitiously, of course. I had never been forward like that.

Then it was time for drinks and we moved to the table set outside. I wanted to sit right next to you but I did not want to be too obvious. I was talking to my friends and when we were talking about my ex-boyfriend, I raised my voice a little. Because I wanted you to know that I was gay, in case you missed that.

You were the one tasked with pouring the drinks, and everytime  you handed me the shot glass, my fingers lingered a little on yours. Just a little. I couldn't help it. One time I let my fingers graze yours a second more than necessary. And you glanced at me. And in that moment, I thought of how it would be if you were mine.

In that moment, I thought of how it would feel to hold your hand. I thought of how it would feel if I can lean on your shoulder. I thought of how it would feel if I had someone like you. How my life would be different.

My friend, the host, was sitting next to me and I whispered to her that I like you and I asked her if you were single. And she laughed and she said you were. Very much so. And I got the impression that you never had a serious relationship. And I was ecstatic to hear that though I was puzzled since it was hard to believe that a guy like you could ever be single for long. But she also told me that you weren't into men. She overheard you say "no way" when that possibility was opened up earlier.

An hour later I was already drunk, thanks to your help. And I got to talking to one of the girls there. She was telling me about her heartaches. And I was all sympathetic because I'm a nice guy like that. And she seemed to be a really nice person. So even if the world was already spinning in my eyes, I managed to focus enough to give her the advice that she wanted to hear.

Later on she confessed that there was someone she liked there. Someone she liked for a long time now. And I hoped it wasn't you. How I hoped it was someone else. But I was wrong and it turned out that it was you. She told me that you've dated before but nothing happened. There was no spark, she said. And I was so dismayed at that turn of events though I let none of that show on my face, of course. She was a really nice girl. And I'm a nice guy like that.

And then I had the stupidity to play matchmaker because even though I liked you, I was trying to be her friend too. And I thought her need was greater than mine. So I approached you. And I asked you to sit right next to her. It tore my heart but it was the right thing to do.

I asked you how come you never liked this girl, given that she's really nice and pretty and all. And you said it's because we're the same. My eyebrows climbed at that, and I asked you to clarify that statement.

I don't know, you said. Sometimes I look at other guys and I find them attractive, you said. Then you asked me what that says about you.

I could hardly believe what you were saying. One moment I've crushed all my hopes and I was all but setting you up for this pretty girl who likes you and then you go about saying things like that. I told you to stop cutting the fool with us. With me, especially. But of course, I did not say that aloud.

What is he saying, I asked the girl. Do you believe him? Her eyes were wide but it was clear that she wasn't believing any word that you were saying. Don't believe him, she told me.

I mean, just look at how pretty she is, I told you. You must be crazy to let her go like that. Then you hurled the question back at me. What can you say about her, you asked me. I said she's pretty, that's all. That's what I'll say too, you said. We're the same, you repeated. We act like men, but we like men, you said.

You're fooling with us, I insisted. No, I'm serious, you said. Let's talk, just the two of us, you said. And you gestured to a more secluded part of the garden. But instead of taking you up on that suggestion, I turned my back on you. I walked away. Because I couldn't handle it anymore. I don't want no carrot dangling in front of me, only to be snatched away when I reach for it. I went to the table to get drunk some more. I had to pour for myself since you've long relinquished your tanggero role by that time.

The next time I looked at you, you were on the seat of the motorcycle, sleeping. Apparently drunk. I wished I could go to you. I wished I could ask you if you're okay since no one was paying any special attention to you. But of course, I won't. I'm not like that guy. I'm always in control. And besides, the girl was watching. And she has first claim on you. So I kept my mind off you. As much as I could. So I got drunk as much as I could.

And then suddenly, you were awake. You were leaning on the wall. And then you were preparing to leave and you were walking towards the gate. I couldn't pretend being unconcerned anymore so I followed you. But the girl was there first. She stood between us. So I was demoted to hovering in the background, hoping to catch a last glimpse of you before you were gone. Who was I anyway? Who was I in your life? Who was I to even deserve a goodbye? I let her take the first claim. But I lingered all the same. Because I knew I might never see you again.

And just like that, it was over.

And I know this is all silly. I know I'm making a big deal out of nothing. I know that you were only playing with me. I know that I'm only making the most out of this one time I got to feel something. Because, you know, it has been a while. I'm being silly as fuck but I can't help how I feel.

***

The next day, on my way home, I heard this song on the radio:

"I didn't know I was looking for love until I found you..."

And for the first time, I was able to relate to that song.

Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle

Oh I'm crazy and I can't help it. I'm not the normal crazy no. Because I can pretend that I'm sane when you talk to me. I can pretend that I'm sane since you want me to be sane and you wouldn't understand anyway if I'm not sane so I pretend to be okay. Well no, not completely okay since you wouldn't want to talk to me at all if I have nothing new to say and since you would prefer to be the one standing on higher moral ground and that you derive a certain satisfaction at finding me down on the dumps since I've been flying for a long time already and my fall is something you deeply and richly and secretly cherish. So yeah I just pretend that I'm a line which is slightly askew when the truth is I've already imagined myself to be imaginary.

One time I was standing along Vito Cruz and it was raining a bit and I was really down at that time so my mind had to keep on sliding against thinking about the things which hurt me and I thought of how excited I'd be to wake up from this world and to find out that it was all just a program of sorts. That everything was all in my head after all and that everything wasn't real after all. I kept thinking how glad I'd be then when the truth is I wouldn't even know what exists beyond this so I can't even be sure whether normal emotions exist there so I don't know anymore maybe I simply wanted all of these to end that if life were a Gameboy I would have long smashed the reset button.

And I hate it that Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, though I understand now that it really works on everything, somehow works on me in an exponential way since the moment that I've analyzed myself, I'm already at a different position and situation and I may know who I am at the moment but I wouldn't know where I'm heading. Or I may know where I'm heading but I wouldn't know who I am at that moment. And it's just crazy of me to bother about such things when most people could do without thinking too much about these things. Hell, most people don't even know about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. And they're fine and happy and living well.

And I don't know what it is about existentialism since the more I learned about it, the less I cared about my own existence. And the few times that I do make myself care, I only wanted to be happy. And I find it curious that I may possibly be both a nihilist and a hedonist at the same time. Maybe the complete absence of everything is the ultimate pleasure? Hell, that does not even make sense.

Everything is really all in my head and how can I focus on anything really when I keep thinking how ultimately useless everything is. How futile all of our lives are and I could cry and gnash my teeth and tear my hair all I want and nothing's gonna change that. And I used to be all for ideals but then I realized that this really is a world ruled by injustices and silliness and maybe we're the ones who are wrong and all the Lannisters had been right all along.

And then I think about love and evolution and I look around at all these "happy" couples and I feel a bit bad that those who cheated, those who lied, they are the ones who are enjoying stable relationships when we who were true. We who held on to honor, we were always the ones who were spurned and no wonder the hopeless romantics are dwindling since we're being culled and evolution cares for nothing but itself. The selfish will always win. The selfish will get to spread their genes. And maybe we are wrong to care about laws and justice and human rights. Maybe it's all about selfishness after all. If we were to look at life from that perspective then the Lannisters win. And they've been winning all along come to think of it.

And through it all, what I've always wanted was your hand. Just your hand. Just stand with me and hold my hand and in my head you'll be my all and things will be alright again. And in my head I can make people care and in my head I can make people understand so maybe I'll just stay here in my head and in my head I'm alright. In my head I'm spanking fine and all of you are the ones who are crazy!

Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Users. The gay world is full of users. Maybe that's why in this gay dating site that I have an account in, they refer to its members as "users." How slyly accurate.

I've met guys who ended up using me in one way or another. I've met a guy who was only there for the money and the free treats. I've met a guy who used me for my brain. I've met a guy who used me for my body. I've met guys who were only there for the attention. And through all those stumbles, somehow I kept doing the same things over and over again. My friends kept telling me that I never did learn what I should have. I listened to them. But then how can I learn to be somebody who I'm not?

When I give my heart to someone, I always give it whole. I never really learned to play games. I may pose to be a player, but deep inside I'm the Ned Stark of this gay world filled with thieving and scheming and lying Lannisters.

I've been dating this guy recently, and we've spent many nights together. And by that, I don't mean sex (refer to my previous entry.) He was actually like me in many ways. Only he was meaner. And he was shallower. My friends say that we even look alike. But then I thought that maybe it was because he was younger than me. Or maybe because we have vastly different backgrounds. So I always tried to see the best in him whenever we're together. Even if my friends who've met him told me that they didn't trust him. I did not listen to them because I knew him better than they did.

Despite his flaws, I resolved to really give him a try. Looking back, there were relationships I could have saved if only I tried harder. So I thought that with him, I wouldn't be the one who gave up first. This time, I'll try harder than I've ever tried before. Even if it was clear that he wasn't really interested in me. He never asked questions about me. he could put on his earphones and completely ignore me. That was rude of him, I know. But then, as I've said, I tried to understand.

One night, he called me while I was sleeping. He said he wanted to see me and he sounded frantic. So off I went to meet him in the middle of the night. But he did not show up. I was roused out my bed and he did not show up. He never even texted me what happened. But instead of getting mad, I got worried. Because I thought something bad must have happened to him. Surely, he couldn't do that to me.

Then later in the week, he stopped responding to my text messages. And I thought he was gone for good. But instead of getting mad, I hoped that he got back with his ex. As long as he was happy, I was good.

And then last week, he texted me, asking to borrow some money. He knew that I am jobless at the moment, and there had been days when I really had to skip meals. He knew all that. He knew how difficult my situation is at the moment. I asked when he could pay me back and he said he would the next day. So off I went to meet him near his place and handed him the money. But when I asked for it back, he did not reply. I texted him several times and he never replied.

And so here I am. Duped once again. Still unable to believe that there really are guys like him out there. All those weeks we've spent, apparently, he was only there for the free smokes. For the free coffee. For the free drinks. I thought, surely, after spending all this time with me he wouldn't be able to do something like that especially since I've done him no wrong. Especially since I asked nothing in return. He knew I needed my money back but did he even care to reply? No. It has been days since I texted him.

He just did not care, he told me. He prided himself in that. Maybe that way, he wouldn't find himself in a vulnerable position. While I was the one who cared too much. Giving myself away for guys I never really got to know very well. My fault is (and has always been) that I love too much too fast.

I've always thought that love was my weakness. But I realize now that it is also my strength. Because I cared deeply for my students, I was loved. Because I stood by my friends, I was loved. I have people who stand with me because they know I could love. Fiercely. Unconditionally. I can see it more clearly now. I am not liked because of my intelligence or my personality, but because they know that I know how to love.

These wrong guys, they exploited that in me. But at the end of the day, though I may feel hurt by rejection. Though I may cry because I was used, in the end I showed them that I could love. I showed them how it is to really love someone and I know that one day, they would all realize that. And they would know that not everyone they meet can love as much as I do.

All these failures in my life recently have exacted their toll on me. This uncertainty in my life right now. This depression that I'm struggling with and still couldn't overcome. These things made me lose confidence in myself. So much so that I think that I'm worth nothing now. Is it really surprising then that these guys treat me this way?

I see what I should do now. I should learn to love myself again. Yeah, maybe I can still love others but until I love myself, no one will love me back.

Earlier, I was crying. But I realized that I wasn't crying because I loved him per se. I was crying because I loved. I hurt, yes, and I'm not going to deny that. But I hurt because I loved. And like the song said, "Only love can hurt like this..."

I need no revenge, no. I don't need to hate on them just to make myself feel better. Because no matter how they may try to deny this, I know that I've got something that they could never have. They may claim that I have lost. They may claim that I am bitter. But in the end, what did I really do? I loved. I showed them love the best way that I could. And that's not such a bad thing right? There are far more worse ways to be remembered.

You're Mine

I wish I could see you tonight.

I wish I could bring you home and have you sprawl on the only proper couch in our living room. You would take a selfie while I was preparing our drinks and you'd play some of your music (because you hate mine) and we'd smoke a lot and then we'd get drunk, no, tipsy, and after a couple of hours you'd start to lie your head back on the couch and sing and rap and that's the sign for me that you're finally drunk. Though the truth is, it's hard for me to tell when you are really drunk because you always seem to be in control all the time. I tried to tell you that the last time you were here but I got sidetracked. You always could distract me, you know.

And it's really strange because we've met so many times already but we haven't had sex yet. Over the years I've met many guys, and we always ended up doing it, one way or another. When I bring you home, we just talk, that's all. And that's very strange, in my book. Well maybe I'd hug you before you leave and always, always you'd find a reason to untangle yourself from my arms and the next thing I know you're already outside the door, impatient to go. I enjoy those brief moments that I have you in my arms, you know. I enjoy them very much. Something about them just feels right somehow.

I often wonder what we are, you know. Although I think that from your actions that it never had been a question for you. I'm just a friend, that's all. A friend you have been spending a considerable part of your time with lately. A friend you can talk to about your interests because I share them. A friend, like you said, who has at least a semblance of depth.

I knew that at first, I was rushing us into a romantic direction. I kept dropping hints left and right. I kept baiting you. Well, it's because that is what I am looking for now. I'm looking for a boyfriend. But after a while, I kinda mellowed out since you were not responding. At first I thought that you were just not that way. You were not romantic. You were not sentimental. While I am the King of Melodrama (like you said). That got me really worried at first because we were too different and I knew we'd get in trouble sooner or later.

But I took all of that in stride and I adapted. I followed your advice. You've always said that I tend to overcomplicate things so I won't think about it anymore. At least, not very much. I'd take whatever happens. To us.

I remember that time when we were at home and I moved much closer to you than usual. And the next thing I knew I was holding your hand. I half-expected that you'd pull it away but you didn't. And I wanted to kiss you right then and there but it was really late and your Mom was calling you and it was time for you to go.

It isn't always like that though. Not all of our nights were great. Some nights I walk home asking myself why I even bothered seeing you. Especially when you get to ignoring me much more than usual. Or when your actions are much more confusing than usual. But somehow, the next time you text or call me, all is hastily forgiven and I'd be ready to go.

Sometimes I think that we're both playing this game where the one who falls for the other first loses. And it is obvious that I am in much greater danger of losing than you are. But then, the possibility of losing doesn't faze me anymore. That doesn't matter much really. I'm not playing this game to win your hand. I'm playing it just to be with you.

Sometimes I wish I could just let go, you know. That we could just both let go and be done with these safety nets and walls. I wish I could tell you these things when you are here, preferably in my arms, with you leaning on me. With the dim yellow lights and a suitably slow song playing warmly washing over us. I wish I could whisper in your ear: "I just wanna say you're mine, you're mine. Fuck what you heard, you're mine, you're mine. I just wanna say you're mine, you're mine..."

But tonight you're not here. So for now, I'd just sing to myself while sitting in your couch, wishing that I could see you tonight.

What Darwin Said

Three years ago, a friend asked me how I imagined myself in the future. And instead of spouting some typical response, all I said was that I imagined myself out under the sun, walking. That was all. My answer gave her pause. She did not probe my answer any further and we were silent for a while.

A few weeks ago, I met my friend who was set to fly for graduate school in the US. We were talking about how my former colleagues saw me now. "Your life is... a trainwreck," she said, spreading her hands. And I laughed. I had to laugh.

Some nights, when I'm alone in our living room, smoking and playing some music, an intense panic grabs hold of me. Telling me that things are too late now. That I've been on this downward spiral ever since I had the courage to leave the path which was set for me. That I was doomed when I took that first step. But eventually, after a few songs, that feeling dissipates. Because I've learned to tune them out of my head. There is no use dwelling on such things. "If I look back, I am lost."

Some days, when I'm out on yet another futile attempt to find some semblance of a job, I look back on what I've done to my life. I wonder whether all the important decisions I've made were wrong, no matter how right they felt at that time. Though I'm learning so much with my diminished resources, the uncertainty drags me down. It's like I'm suffering from this neverending anxiety.

I never really learned how to survive in this world. In my world, I'm a king. And I'm happiest when I could impose my ideals on the real world. My illusion of megalomania. My thirst for melodrama. All the regular academic achievements I've gained in the past, I never really strived for. They just came to me. So easily that I never really learned their value. Now that things are not being handed to me on a silver platter, I am clueless on how to begin. Who would've thought that this thrice valedictorian will end up jobless and increasingly desperate?

Perhaps it all had something to do with my albums. They've always meant much more to me than I'm letting on. There's so much more going on behind each song. Maybe I just really wanted a variety of experiences so I could be inspired to make albums with different themes. Because these albums, they will be my legacy. They're not mere records. They're records of my life.

But it isn't like there aren't any new opportunities coming my way. There are quite a surprising multitude of them actually. All these exciting paths, opening up before me. And yet strangely, I do not have the will to take any of them. Because my life is done. I am done. I feel it in my bones that I have reached the end. I've always wanted a fireworks kind of life and I got that, ultimately. I've given one of the best shows there was and my audience have oohed and aahed and clapped their hands off. And now I'm done and I'm just ashes falling to the ground.

Most people, they are aiming for something. And that is what gives them the drive. The direction. But me, I've had what I wanted. I've done my part for this world. I don't ask for much, really. And I don't want anything more. I should have been gone a long time ago. It's like I already missed my train and I'm left at the station.

I'm a man of the moment. I only live for the now. Logically, rationally, I should plan for my future. But that's just not me. I'm the man with no future. Literally. At least with the way I am living my life, I am consistent.

Darwin said that evolution favors those who are able to adapt. And I couldn't. So I should go. And I accept that wholeheartedly. Don't feign concern. Don't waste your time on me. No pity. No sympathy. No commiseration. Help those who deserve it. Help those who really need it. Me, I'm good. I'm good to go.

I'm not fucking depressed. I'm just brutally honest.

Risperdal

It was Christmas since I last saw him. And since my phone got broken, I lost his number and I couldn't meet him again. Then one morning, out of nowhere, he texted me, saying he found his old phone and he saw my number there. I missed him. I've been missing him the past few months though I didn't say that to him because it was rather complicated - what we had between us. We weren't lovers. We were just friends. But with, you know, benefits.

At midnight, we met, and we walked straight to this motel. And I couldn't help but notice how his arm kept touching mine. I thought that perhaps he missed me too. But I wasn't sure. Like I said, it was rather complicated.

And when the door was closed and I found myself in his arms, that's how I felt that he missed me too. It was great actually. It had been a long time since I felt like that. But it was only when we were dressed again when we could really talk a bit.

I asked how he was. Whether he was feeling much better now. Whether his life was more stable. He said he was living with his aunt now. He said she was watching over him since he had these migraine attacks. I was surprised because he hadn't told me about that before, and I've known him for more than a year now. He siad that his meds were expensive, and he even showed me some of them from his bag.

He handed me a pack of them, and I saw the name of the drug: Risperdal. And immediately, I felt this sinking feeling. Because I remember that drug. My schizophrenic brother used to take them. I told him I knew about the drug and for a while, he couldn't meet my eyes.

He finally told me about what really happened to him. How he had these hallucinations. How he felt so scared. How he got everyone scared. And I wasn't really surprised because I knew he was under a lot of stress. I knew there was something rather off with him. He kept telling me before that he was going crazy because of all the problems he was facing. And he did. He finally did.

It was late and he lived a long way off so we couldn't stay too long. I was about to ride a jeepney when he crossed the road to where I was. Let's smoke a bit, he said.

So I got to tell him about what happened to me too. I told him about how I stopped going to work. I told him I tried to kill myself this year. I told him about leaving everything behind and how I ran away to Bicol. I told him that I thought of him when I did both of these things because he has done them before. Both of them. I remember we were on the bed when he first showed me the scars on his wrist.

Then I asked him about his prospects. The last time we met, he was applying for a job. I asked him what happened to that. He just shook his head. And I realized that of course, he couldn't go to work now. He couldn't apply for any job since he's under medication.

And I felt even more sad about that because he used to be so driven. He makes me ashamed of myself. He has been through a lot, moving from house to house since his parents abandoned him. Trying all sorts of odd jobs just to survive. But now all that drive can't get him anywhere anymore.

There we were, two guys standing on the street. Smoking. I looked around me and for a moment, I felt surreal. It was like what happened to my brother all over again.

He looked better after we talked. He was smiling. And it was probably because he didn't need to explain much when he was with me. Because I've been there too. Because I understand, from what happened to me and to my brother, how crazy people's lives can be.

When I went home, I thought about how I used to imagine if we got together. I thought that maybe we could heal each other somehow. But now he's... He's gone crazy now for real. And I...

Screws

I placed the things I bought on the dining table. A bottle of gin, a bottle of iced tea to serve as our chaser, and a pack of chips. I then went to fetch the shot glass from the kitchen cabinet. I stole a glance at him, sitting on the couch in the living room and strangely, he was smiling. He saw me and I smiled back at him.

"Why don't you bring those over here?" he asked, still smiling.

"Okay," I answered. And I arranged the stuff we bought so we can drink while sitting on the floor. I also brought along my pack of cigarettes and the ashtray. I put on the "Evil I" CD on the DVD player but turned the volume down because it was quite late. He was looking at the wall where my diplomas and certificates were hung.

"So... you graduated from UP?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered without elaboration. I did not really want to talk about UP.

"What course did you take?"

"Chem."

"What's that?"

"Chemistry."

"Wow, that's a very difficult subject."

I simply shrugged. If he only knew how much of a failure I am now.

"You must be a genius," he added.

"It doesn't matter much. It's nothing."

He just looked at me, and I thought he mistook my tone for arrogance.

"I mean," I hastily added, "There are a lot more people more intelligent than me. It doesn't matter in the long run. Everyone has their own weaknesses. Their own strengths. Their own issues. So in the end, we're all equal."

"You know I'm beginning to be impressed by you. In fact, I'm already... 40% impressed," he said, still looking at my certificates.

"I'm not trying to impress you," I answered quickly.

"Of course," he said.

"This is yours," I said, handing him the shot glass.

"So you're a teacher," he prompted.

"Not anymore."

"Why?"

"I just want to try new things," I told him. "I want to live many lives. I have a weird way of looking at the world. Most of my friends do not understand me. I'm jobless at the moment actually, but I want to be a barista."

"A barista?"

"A barista. Like those in Starbucks."

"Oh."

"And I also want to be a DJ. Not in the radio. But you know, in clubs," and I mimed scratching a vinyl on a DJ's deck.

He just smiled.

"I love music. And I make mixtapes too. I compiled this album we're listening to."

"Your music is different, I noticed earlier."

"They're indie songs. I'm into indie songs right now," I said. And I talked about my albums.

"I told you I'm weird," I finished. And I looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"No, weird is okay. I like weird people."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I knew it the first time I saw you. There was something different about you. You're not like the other guys I've met. Most of them, they're very cocky. And they talk nonsense. You're not like them. And they're boring to talk to."

"So I'm not boring?"

"No. That's why I'm talking too. I don't talk much when I'm with other guys."

"Thank you," I said, and I struggled to hide the smile blooming on my face.

"I also want to be a writer," I added.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. That's why I like dating. I like meeting new people. I love hearing their stories. It expands my experiences. Like I said, I want to live many lives."

"So... So you're making me a subject?!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, sort of. Sorry," I said laughing.

***

"How many guys have you met from that site?" he asked.

That gave me pause.

"A lot," I answered simply.

"Have you met any decent ones?"

"Yes. I met all my ex-boyfriends from there. But I've been unlucky, these past few months. Haven't met anyone decent."

"Ouch."

I laughed, but I did not apologize.

His phone rang. He looked at the screen for a few seconds but didn't answer it.

"Who's that?" I asked him.

"My wife."

"Doesn't she know?" I asked. Although I knew that was a stupid question.

"Of course not."

"She doesn't suspect?"

"Maybe. But she loves me very much, my wife. She's a very good woman. Once her cousin saw me holding hands with a guy. Her cousin told her. She got mad. But not at me. She got mad at her cousin."

I said nothing.

"Don't you want to get married?" he asked.

"With a girl, you mean?"

"Yes."

"...No."

I wanted to add "Because I don't want to be unfair to the girl" but I thought that would be tactless of me.

"It's a wondrous thing, getting married," he said, and his eyes went dreamy. "You go home, and someone's there to cuddle with you. Someone's there to take care of you."

I said nothing.

"But I still like having sex with guys. With women, you have to do all the work. With guys, it's more laid back. Much more enjoyable."

I just looked at him.

"And with girls, isang kalabit lang..."

I didn't know what he meant by that so I kept silent.

"You should get married," he told me.

"Maybe. In the future."

"And I have a boyfriend too you know," he added, his voice already slightly groggy.

"Oh."

"It's great actually. They take care of you and..." his voice trailed off. "I'm so tired of this life... I'm so tired."

I looked at him and I thought of the story he told me earlier. How he came to Manila because he was brought along by a rich gay foreigner. How he was "collected" along with other boys and they all lived in this big condo unit. They were essentially sex slaves, he told me. How every night, when the old man was horny, he'd summon one of them to his bed. And after, he'd summon two. How they were forbidden many things. How two of them were thrown out because they fell in love with each other.

His was a story I thought I'd only read about in books. A story I thought I'd only find in indie movies. But there he was, a guy who lived that life, lying there in front of me. Getting drunker by the minute as he slowly slid down on the floor.

He was trapped in that lifestyle, I thought. Something from him was stolen and he wasn't able to recover. Now he's jobless. He's flitting from one rich gay man to the next just to survive. He's hanging out in Malate, hoping to find another gay benefactor. Joining "bikini opens." Selling his body. Just to scrounge up enough money to feed his ten-month-old son.

He's got no future. He was screwed up. He was trapped. He was... just like me.

"Come here," he said.

And then I kissed him. I kissed him as he lay there on the floor. And for a few moments, there was no one else in my world. No family sleeping upstairs. No doubts about my future. No uncertainties. No guilt at what we were doing. There was no one else but him. No one else. Nothing else. 

His phone rang and I looked at him questioningly.

"Screw her," he said as he pulled me closer.

Kanto Boy

It was past one in the morning when I walked out of the convenience store where I first saw him. He was lean, and he looked a little mean and I smiled since he was just my type. He nodded when I came closer but I noticed that he couldn't quite catch my eye.

***

He sat on the couch and I busied myself with mixing our drink. Occasionally, he would pull up his shirt and I couldn't quite feign that I wasn't looking at his abs. He wasn't there for sex, he told me. He was tired of that. He was there for friends and so a friend I would be.

I sat next to him, as a typical friend would. He was hardly talking in the beginning but slowly, the alcohol loosened his tongue. I listened more than I talked. He shared with me how hard his life was. How his family didn't care about him. How he couldn't get a job. How he tried to kill himself by overdosing on this drug but all he ended up with was a headache and I laughed with him when I told him he picked the wrong drug for that.

Then I told him more about me and I said that we were probably on the same boat. That I'm in between jobs and that I'm trying to start anew and that I'm leaving what I was trained to be. That I wish I could help him somehow but as it is, I'm barely keeping myself together. And that was when he finally started to really look at me. I wasn't sitting too close to him since I was acting all proper even though I was dying to get inside his clothes. And as I opened my mouth to continue what I was saying he kissed me.

And it was just like in the movies you know, what happened. I couldn't quite believe it. I've been with many guys but they never kissed me like that. They grope me first or they undress me. Sometimes we don't even get around to kissing, those other guys. But there he was with his hand on the back of my head and we were kissing and we were like, you know, lovers and I thought I liked that.

Then he told me that he'd like to spend the rest of the night with me and I warned him that my parents would see him in the morning but he didn't care about that and he just put his arms around me as we lay down on my bed. And after, when he was hugging me, I felt strange because somehow I felt I was safe with him. I was secure. And with all the men I've dated I realized that I've never really felt like that when I was with them.

***

I saw him often after that night. I'd text him after dinner and I would sneak him inside the house. I'd see him walking down the street with his hands in his pockets, a small grin on his face. And though he lives nearby, he never failed to gussy up everytime that he saw me. He would sit on the couch and I would sit on his lap and he would hug me and we would kiss and then we would fool around on the bed a bit and one time my father even caught us. We were fully dressed though, so it was somewhat okay. As if I cared about what my father would say. My mother did not approve of him though. Because he was a bum and he was your typical kanto boy and he just had this look that he was up to no good but I didn't care. My Mom has no say on who I was dating anyway.

One night I was horny and I wanted to have sex with him but he caught my hand as I was sliding it down his crotch. He asked me whether I loved him and I frowned at that and wondered whether he was joking. And I answered of course I didn't love him. Not yet. And he said no sex until I can tell him that I love him. And I laughed at that but apparently he was serious so no sex for me that night. So we just hugged and kissed and though my balls were blue, inside I was smiling at the thought that guys like him still did exist.

He looks great and all but it was the small things which I liked most about him, really. How he'd like to randomly take his shirt off and how I find that so manly. How he'd be so affected because the book I asked him to read did not have a happy ending he wanted to tear its pages in frustration. How he'd surreptitiously put his arm around me when we're in the jeepney and how he gave challenging looks to those who noticed. How we'd argue sometimes and how he'd say "No, I should be the one to do this because I'm the guy." How he'd ramble on about the cheesy things we would do if we ever got to be together and though I'd roll my eyes I liked hearing them all the same. Or how we'd just laze around on my bed in the afternoon and how he'd spoon me and we'd just lie there like that and how that would make me feel safe and taken care of.

He was a great guy, all in all, but after a while I stopped seeing him. I simply vanished from him without any explanation whatsoever.

And why shouldn't I?

He's got a boyfriend anyway.

And I knew it all along.

Biochem 3

Sana teacher na lang ako forever. Sana wala nang ibang aspeto pa ang buhay ko kundi yun na lang. Kasi kapag nag-aalala ako sa grades nila or kapag kino-comfort ko sila or kapag effort na effort ako magturo, nakakalimutan ko yung sarili kong buhay. Na kapag hot na hot ako bilang passionate teacher, somehow nagiging sapat na iyon. Hindi ko na naiisip na malungkot ako sa bahay. Hindi ko na naiisip na mag-isa pa rin ako hanggang ngayon.

Masarap yung feeling na na-aappreciate ako ng mga students ko kahit papaano. Minsan kapag ganun, may moment na feeling ko sapat na yun for me to go on. Yung noble happiness churva na yun. Nararamdaman ko yun minsan. Pero kasi paglabas ko ng classroom or paglabas ko ng school I'm back to being just "Bry." At kahit anong focus mo sa pagtuturo hindi ka naman magiging focused dun all the time. Haharapin ko din ang mga personal kong problema.

Sana ma-stuck na lang akong teacher. Sana ma-lock yung room tapos "Sir Bry" na lang ako forever. Kasi kapag "Sir Bry" ako masaya ako. Minamahal ako. Na-aappreciate ako. Kasama ko yung mga mahal na mahal kong students na kung pwede lang hindi na kami maghiwalay pa. Pero heto iiwan na nila ako. Ga-graduate na sila. At heto umiiyak nga ako ngayon kasi alam kong sobrang mamimiss ko sila. Na akala nila petiks lang ako on the outside. Puro patawa lang. Puro bitchiness lang. Pero deep inside nagpapanggap lang din ako.

Bakit kasi kailangan pang matapos ang mga bagay-bagay sa buhay ko? May darating. Tapos ma-aattach ako. Magiging friends ko sila. Tapos aalis na din. Aalis na. Tapos ako naman 'tong si tanga na nagpaka-attach kasi. Sana lagi ko na lang silang kasama. Sana may Biochem 3. Biochem 4.

Kasi bakit ako na lang lagi ang naiiwan? Puwede bang may mag-stay din for me? Kapatid ko. Mga ex ko. Mga kaibigan ko from UP. Ngayon mga AdU students ko. Sana lagi na lang kaming magkakasama... Sana may mag-stay din kahit minsan lang sa buhay ko.

Paano na ang soulmate kong si CJ? My one and only Mars at si Nuydy? Si Hard (now softer) Sheryl and Aki went to market? Paano na si Bebe? My Ate Mikko? Si Anton na parang reincarnation ni Jamila? Si Roy na nahihiya pa din sa akin at si Gui na never naman nahiya? Ang maliligayang moments ni Ate Joyce at Kuya Kenneth? Si Apol (na hindi pa din sumasama sa amin) at lalo na si Pards my new best friend?

Ayoko na di na ko makasulat iiyak ko na lang muna siguro to...

High Horses

I am aware that there are moments both here and in the real world when people can get really annoyed with me because I seem to act like I'm superior to others. My atheist posts in Facebook for instance. Or the way I talk in class sometimes, when I think that a particular lesson is easy or when I'm haranguing my students about their absymal performance. Or when I'm criticizing someone or something, I tend to go overboard sometimes. I acknowledge this imperfection of mine and in my defense, all I can say is that if someone were to point these out to me and I acknowledge that they were right, I would humbly apologize. Or maybe just apologize. Humility might be beyond me at the moment.

And I suppose this irritating characteristic of mine is what makes my haters so satisfied when I've stumbled on yet another challenge in my life. It's another vindication for their way of life. A score for them. For their religion. For their obsession with material things. For their chastity or for their homophobia. For their privacy. That everytime I fall they couldn't help but feel some ghoulish delight because I've always carried myself on this high horse. I've always been so full and so sure of myself. So confident in my convictions. That try as they might to deny it, some of them couldn't evade the fact that they feel happy that I failed.

I do try to make an effort to keep my criticisms light and funny so it wouldn't seem as if I were deliberately looking for a shouting match but I suppose my sense of humor is just too transparently acerbic that the sharpest of them can see that I'm shamming. That through this veil of politeness, I still look down on them. In some cases, perhaps, I am wrong to do so, but I still firmly believe that in most cases, I'm merely exhibiting the logical reaction. There is only so much tolerance I can give for deliberate stupidity, for example. I'm not vying for a halo, so if I were to frown at people persisting on being idiotic when you've done your best to make them understand then I suppose that doesn't really make me evil.

Some of my friends have gotten around again to considering that I need their gods back into my life. I can all but see their thoughts saying "This is all happening to him because he has no gods." And I know they only mean well but that was a facepalm moment for me. They really do not understand atheism. As if I would go back to believing in gods just to make myself feel better? As if belief is volitional? It's tough to get by on your own without any deity to "lift up" your woes to and I do give religious people points for that because shirking off responsibility is such a lifesaver but for us atheists, you couldn't just go back to mythology whenever you feel it's convenient. That's simply not the way it works. I appreciate it, but no thanks.

It is true though that some of the hardships I'm dealing with it were caused by me rejecting religion. As Jesse Ventura said, religion is a crutch and of course I fell when I let go of that crutch. And the reason why I'm having a lot of difficulty now is that I'm trying to stand up on my own. But religion isn't the only crutch I've let go of. Social conventions. Expectations. Norms. I've let them all go because I learned that I must develop my own philosophies. I understand that some people (I expect that they are not very many) have done the same and are doing much better than I am. Well, I never claimed to be the best at this anyway. I may actually be lagging behind but maybe the next time you consider pitying me you think of these factors too.

Come to think of it, many of you are up on your high horses too. You may not be as flashy as I am, so the public may not be as aware of it but in your head you might be looking down on me too. Maybe we're all on the same boat after all. I look down on you and you look down on me too.

But the thing is, we both know that there's a higher state than this. A more enlightened state when we could jump off our high horses and let go of our crutches so we can learn to stand on our own feet. We're both not there yet, but at least have the decency to recognize that you are on crutches too. That pretend as you might that you are stable, you are also sitting smugly on your high horses. Because you know, how can you really stand up on your own when you're deliberately blinding yourself that you're propped up?

I'm in the mud now, I know. It is sad that after many years of exploring, I am still lost. And I acknowledge that I'm possibly the laughing stock of the batch. But it's fine because I am laughing with you too. The sadder thing though is why you had to laugh at me in the first place. Sad not for me, but for you.

Whose high horse is higher now then?

Oh well. On hindsight, it doesn't matter much. We're still both on high horses. Or maybe thestrals are a better analogy. Some can see theirs. Some can't.

Fun

It was early morning and we were out on the streets. He was drunk and he had his arm over my shoulder. I was supporting him. He couldn't walk straight. I didn't know where I was so occasionally I had to rouse him up to ask him where to go next. I was drunk myself but my concern for him sobered me up. It wouldn't do me good to lose my wits in that place. I didn't know anyone there, not even the guy I was with.

Our bodies were really close together, mine and his. It had been some time since I had been close with anyone in that way. Publicly, at least. And since the streets were empty, I could look at him without tripping or bumping on anything. And I saw how attractive he was from that angle. So I stole a kiss from him while he wasn't looking. And I thought he wouldn't notice from the way his legs were crossing while he was walking but he looked at me and he smiled.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked, his voice hazy. "I don't want to go home. Where do we go next?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I don't know this place."

Soon, we passed an unlit part of the road and he pulled my shirt up. He placed his hands inside my jeans while we were still walking.

"Not here," I hissed, half-laughing half-panicking. "Not here, we'll be seen."

And I tried to grab his arm to pull it away even though I was excited about the prospect myself. But it simply wouldn't do to do it then and there. We have reached a busy road and though it's late, there were still the occasional cars. And the occasional security guards on the villages we were passing.

It took a surprisingly short time to reach the main road where he hailed a jeepney. I still did not know where we were going but he seemed to be sober enough to tell the driver our destination.

My date was sitting too closely and he was leaning on me and I knew the other passengers of the jeep couldn't fail to notice that we were together. I tried to look at how they'd react but they looked too tired or too drunk to care. He felt nice beside me and I realized that I was happy to have him there with me.

We got off at an intersection and I still did not know where we were. He pulled me to this apartelle a few meters away from the road. I told him I did not bring a lot of money with me but he told me not to worry. From the practiced way of how he was leading me on, I felt that he had been there many times before.

We paid a room for two hours and when we got inside it he immediately undressed and he took a shower. He was wearing nice underwear I noticed and it made me conscious about mine. It was a measure of how unplanned it all was that I wasn't wearing my sexytime undies that night.

After my turn in the shower I found him sprawled on the bed with only his underwear on. He seemed to be sleeping. But of course, we did not go there to sleep so I got on top of him and kissed his neck. And that roused him up nicely.

And then we got undressed and when he saw me he was impressed and he said that he wanted me to fuck him and I got scared. He asked me why and I told him I'm no good with that and that I don't really like penetrating I like to do other stuff and he said okay. He asked me if I wanted to be fucked and I said no right away and I was thankful he didn't push me like the others did. But he asked to be fucked again and I desisted again. Yet still he persisted and he coaxed me and enticed me by asking me wasn't he hot and didn't I want to feel how warm he is inside. Wasn't he a catch? Wasn't he? Wasn't he?

And so I tried and then I was there and he kept asking did it feel good and I said yes although it did not really feel that good but what was I to say? And I kept on at it even though I didn't want to anymore and though I know his body was hot enough for me he was still nobody. And my sweat was starting to drip down on him and it was no good but still I went on though in my head I apologized to all of my ex's though I did not really understand why.

The he asked me whether I was close because he said he was and I told him to go ahead because I was far from being close but he told me no, let's go at the same time but I said no go ahead and finally he did and I was thankful it was over. Then he said it was my turn so I did the things I like to do but I still had trouble and I did not understand why but then the phone rang to tell us that our time was up.

He was still on the bed and he told me to be quick about mine but I said no it was okay we had to go get ourselves clean now and I thought it was strange that he was sad about it though he already came. He stayed on the bed and asked me one more time to go ahead but I said no, it was okay.

We went out of the building arm-in-arm and it felt strange to still find him that touchy after. He didn't really care whether we were seen and finally I had to go remove my arm from his shoulder because dawn was approaching and there were more people about. He didn't remove his arm though.

We stopped on a street corner to smoke and he asked me whether I liked him. And I said "Like you in what manner?" though I know what he meant. And he said, "No you don't like me" but I said I did but he answered "You don't like me enough."

And you'd expect me to pounce on that moment, the hopeless romantic that I am, but I did not because I just thought it was much too early for love and that we simply had fun that night.

We stood there for a few more minutes, with him doing most of the talking. He kept asking me to take care of myself because he was not going to text me anymore. He looked at me carefully to see whether I was hurt but I told him I was no innocent and that I understood.  "You think this was my first time?" I told him, smiling. And that shut him up nicely. "But you can visit me in my shop if you want," he added. "You know where I work now."

We reached the part where he can ride a jeepney home and after we said our goodbyes he added, "You know, tonight was really special." But I cut him off by snorting involuntarily and he sounded a bit hurt when he softly said "You don't believe me" but I said nothing to that because it was all becoming too confusing with him and his mixed signals.

I watched him walk away and when he glanced back I waved one last time. I stood there watching him longer than necessary. I know now that I shouldn't have but at the time it felt like the right thing to do.

I crossed the street and I noticed how I could still smell him on me. That brought a rare smile to my face but then I remembered that was always the case when I've been with someone and I was reminded of how long I've been doing this.

The sky was beginning to lighten when I got home and as I sat on the couch to take off my shoes I realized that I was missing him already. And that simply wouldn't do. I shouldn't be clingy.

And it was just for fun.

Just for fun.

A week after, I finally thought it safe to text him again.

He did not reply. And I thought that he probably did not even save my number.

It was just for fun, I reminded myself.

Just for fun.

Pila Balde

Nagtatagay ako sa sahig at naka-upo siya sa sofa.

"Pwede bang tumabi ka sa akin?" sabi niya.

"Shot mo na," sabi ko, sabay abot ng baso.

"Ayoko na."

"Ok," at tumabi ako sa kanya. Nainis ako nang kaunti dahil ayaw na niya uminom. Wala pa sa kalahati yung laman ng bote. Nagsindi na lang ako ng yosi.

"Gusto kong subukan," sabi niya.

Alam ko naman ang usapan namin pero naisip kong baka hindi na niya ituloy. Ako kasi, okay na iyon sa akin na may kausap. May kasama lang. Kasi sa totoo lang, hindi ko naman siya ganun ka-type. Hindi lang sa itsura niya. Pati sa ugali niya. Medyo delayed ang development. Yun pa lang fact na virgin pa din siya hanggang ngayon, nagsabi na sa akin na hindi ko siya pwede maging boyfriend. Magiging teacher ako nito.

"Subukan ang alin?" tanong ko.

"Ayoko palampasin ang chance."

Naintindihan ko siya kasi pinagdaanan ko na din iyon dati. Kahit na medyo huli na, at least gusto niyang makilala kung ano talaga siya. Hindi nga naman siya makaka-usad sa buhay niya hangga't hindi niya nalalaman.

"Halika, yakapin mo ako," sabi ko.

At nilagay niya ang braso niya paikot sa likod ko. Nilapat niya ang kamay niya sa hita ko.

"Okay lang ba?" tanong niya.

"Sige lang, ikaw bahala," sabi ko sabay hithit ng yosi. Tinaas ko pa ng bahagya ang mga braso ko para mas madali para sa kanya.

"Heto na," sabi niya. "Anong gagawin ko? Hindi ko alam. Nanginginig ako."

"Chill ka lang," sabi ko.

"Okay lang ba talaga? Nahihiya ako eh."

At naintindihan kong hindi kami uusad kung hindi ako ang magsisimula. Pinatay ko ang yosi ko sa ashtray at hinalikan ko siya.

Hinalikan ko siya na parang gusto ko siya. Hinalikan ko siya na parang sabik na sabik ako. Inisip ko na lang na sana mapasaya ko siya. Na sana maging mas memorable ang first time niya. Kahit na wala talaga akong apoy na nararamdaman. Sige lang, trabaho lang. Bayad na naman ako, kung tutuusin.

"Gusto ko pero kinakabahan ako. Patayin mo na lang yung ilaw," sabi niya. "Baka may makakita sa atin."

At sinunod ko na lang ang gusto niya.

Humiga siya sa sofa at hinila niya ako sa ibabaw niya.

"Alam mo konti na lang, mahal na kita," sabi niya.

Lalo tuloy hindi ko siya nagustuhan.

Hinahawakan niya ang mukha ko. Hinalikan ang kamay ko. At kahit na matagal na rin na panahon ang lumipas since may gumawa sa akin ng mga bagay na iyon, nanguna pa rin ang pagtataka kung anong nakikita niya sa mukha ko at hinahaplos niya ito. Kung anong meron sa kamay ko at bakit niyayapos niya. Dapat inenjoy ko na lang siguro. Pero kakaiba lang talaga yung pakiramdam na gusto niya ang katawan ko.

Pagkatapos, naupo na siya ulit sa sofa. Umupo din ako pero hindi sa tabi niya.

"Pawis na pawis ka," sabi niya.

Tumawa na lang ako. Naalala ko na lang na lahat naman ng mga nakasama ko sa kama, alam ito tungkol sa akin.

Nilagay niya ang kamay niya sa hita ko habang pinagmamasdan niya yung mga nakasabit na larawan ko sa sala. Yung mga diploma ko. Yung mga kung ano-anong certificates.

"Anong iniisip mo?" tanong ko.

"Ikaw," sabi niya.

At nakita ko sa kanya kung paano pala ako sa ibang lalaki na gusto ko. Kasi yun din ang sagot ko kapag tinanong nila ako. Na-guilty ako. Alam kong gusto niya ako. Hindi ko na lang siya tinitingnan. Mahahalata ako.

Tumayo siya at sinabing aalis na siya.

"Hindi na ako nakapag-gitara," sabi niya. "Next time na lang, kung iimbitahan mo ulit ako pumunta dito. Pero tingin ko hindi na. I feel it in my bones."

"Talagang in my bones ha?" sabi ko. Pero hindi ko dineny na hindi ko na nga siya papapuntahin.

Para siyang lasing habang hinahatid ko siya dun sa sakayan ng tricycle. Alas-dos na pero ang ingay pa din niya. Buti na lang marami ding tao sa labas nung gabing iyon.

Pagbalik ko sa bahay, hindi ko muna pinansin yung fone ko kasi hindi ko alam kung ano ang isasagot ko kapag nag-text siya. Hindi ko alam kung ano ba dapat ang gawin. Magiging mabait na lang ba ako? Subtle ko lang bang ipaparamdam na ayoko na siyang makita? Na wala kaming future together?

Lumipas ang isang oras at pinulot ko na din ang fone ko. Ineexpect na magtetext siguro siya pag-uwi niya. Nag-aalala din naman ako kung safe ba siyang nakauwi.

Pero hindi na siya nag-text.

At iyon. Ganun lang. Ganun lang ang kalakaran ng mga buhay namin.

Tinext ko na lang yung kasunod sa aking listahan.

"Hi, si Bry to. Binigay mo yung number mo sa akin sa... Kelan ka free?"

Fancy

It was six in the morning and I
Was freshened up for school
I took a UV Express van and
Sat in front of
This good-looking guy
He was perhaps
In his early twenties
And he had a black Alaxan shirt on
Of all things
But he paired it with
Nice-fitting charcoal jeans
A red backpack on his lap
Color-matched with his red loafers
Showing his ankles
And I saw all these because
I checked him out, top
To toe

But it was his face, you see
It was his face
Which made me do a double-take
For he looked just like
The first guy I fell in love with
And though I know
It would be a stretch
To see him there in front of me
After all these years
I heard that he was working in the south
So really, it could be him
For all I knew
But of course, he didn't recognize me
For he wasn't even looking at me
Since he was
Asleep

And it was all fancy
I admit
An embarrassing sort of fancy
With me imagining that he was mine
And I thought of
How it would have felt
To have him lean his head
On my shoulder
Instead of on the back of the
Cold and lifeless seat
To his right
How it would have felt
To hold his backpack for him
So that he would be
More comfortable
How it would have felt
For him to rely on me
To wake him up at the right time
So he wouldn't miss
His stop

He was asleep so I
Had the liberty to inspect his face
As I would have if he were mine
My eyes traced
The features of his face
As if they were my hands
And I imagined
Waking up beside him
In the morning
And giving him the lightest
Of kisses
On his forehead
On his cheek
On his lips
Or how my hand will gently
Brush away his slightly unkempt hair
Away from his ears
And how that will wake him up
His eyes locking onto mine
And he would smile
At me
And I know for sure
Even if it was all my fancy
That that would be
Divine

And I know I'm old
And I've been there
And everyone says that
I've been there and back
And they expect better things from me now
And I expect better things from me too
But sometimes
I cannot pretend anymore
I cannot pretend that I'm over with love
No matter what I may say
That after all that has happened
Deep inside
I'm still this
Lovestruck boy
Trying his luck
And never giving up
What I say to others
I'm just cloaking them with
Big words
Fancy words
Intellectual words
Take them all away
And you'll find
That all the same, I'm only
Lonely

Sometimes I
Consider myself lucky
Because I can conjure up
These powerful images
In my head
And I can make them so strong
That I can make them real
In my head
That I can feel what I cannot feel
In real life
That at least, as long as I have
My imagination
I would never feel
That emotional void which we're all
Trying to avoid
But perhaps, these heights
These temporary highs
I induce in myself
Are only making the lows
All the more difficult to bear
Like tonight
When I have nobody but
My emotions for company
Like tonight
When I am left staring
Into the
Night

Along the Vein

I've done two very pivotal things in the span of a few weeks. First, I tried to kill myself. And when that failed, I ran away. Of course, you wouldn't expect that it's an easy feat recovering from that state of mind I was in when I decided to commit suicide. I understand now that it never really fades away. I feel like I'm a profoundly different man now. People may see me as back to normal, but of course, I'm only acting for their sake. I've worried too many people as it is so I think it's best to pretend that I'm okay now. I can show them the scars on my wrist, but the deeper ones (and those that matter) are within.

I try to make light of it when I talk about it with my students. But deep inside I find myself still curiously afraid of what I tried to do. Normally, the fear should have come first before the attempt. But when I had that knife ready against my wrist I was feeling strangely calm. I wasn't hysterical. I wasn't even crying, even when it became so painful I had to close my eyes. I deliberately kept my mind blank as I repeatedly traced that knife along my vein. I didn't think of my future. I didn't think of my friends. I suppose that though the act itself failed, I was successful in readying myself for it. And in a twisted way, I am proud of myself for that. My friends know that this has been running 'round my head for years now, and they shouldn't be surprised when I actually went ahead and did it. They should've known it was only a matter of time.

At the moment, I am hard-pressed in trying to explain to you my reasons for doing it. All I know for sure is that it isn't as simple as you might think. It is mostly philosophical in nature though. I've probably been thinking and reading too much and I've been left to myself for too long without anyone to talk to. But all I know for sure was when I did it, I felt like it was my time to go. I have been feeling like it was my time to die for many months now actually. And there are moments when that notion becomes so strong that at times, I feel like I'm a dead man walking.

You may have noticed that I never warned anyone about it. I understood that if I went ahead with writing notes to my loved ones I'd probably lose my nerve. I tried not to think about anything at all, really. Nothing else was on my mind but the deed. Nothing else.

I don't really understand it though, why I have this urge and why others don't. It may be partly genetic, for all I know. It is true that wasn't really feeling happy the past few months. But I wasn't feeling miserable either. I was simply numb. Maybe perhaps that absence of feeling was what allowed me to do it. As I've figured out years ago, you have to turn both your mind and your feelings off if you want to kill yourself. Unless you want to go out in a rage or in a passion, which apparently, isn't my style.

Looking back, I see now that there aren't really a lot of feelings involved when I got in this state. It's like doing a calculation. I'm simply following what the answer says that's all. It's almost completely logical. I did not have to like it or to hate it. It simply is. The psychologists and the philosophers out there can explain it better than I do. I've read their thoughts on it, and some of them got my case right.

This suicide attempt and this running away - these are all part of my plan (except for not being able to anticipate I'd fail in the former.) And yes, I know that in the real world I'm not exactly known for planning anything about my life and that is still true. I don't have any plans at all about my material future. But this plan I'm talking about is in finding out who and what I really am. I'm on this quest to answer life's most basic questions which most of you might be taking for granted if you're not completely ignoring them. I understand that most of you are preoccupied with real things like studying or working to have time to even acknowledge these uncomfortable questions and I respect that you chose to live that way. This is simply part of the path I've decided to take. So in a way, no matter how lost I may appear to outsiders, I actually still know what I'm doing. I have a good plan. Even if that plan includes my own annihilation.

I understand that the people who care most about me are scrambling for solutions. They keep showing me how much they care. Now more than ever. They help me in listing down my options. They remind me of why choosing to live is much better. I appreciate their efforts. I truly do. And I go along with them because I care for them and I want to keep them happy. But you see, until I see this issue as a problem, I'm not sure if I can completely commit myself to recovery. Because as I've said, I don't see this as being completely under my control. I'm not doing this for attention. I'm not doing this because I want to feel loved. This is simply what must be.

Room Boy

It was the second night of my escape and I've landed on yet another city. I was wandering around the centro and I had already been to two hotels in this city (I did some searching through the internet) but I found out that they were beyond my budget. I had enough money, but I didn't mean for this trip to be a luxurious one.

So there I was. Lost in a city I've never been in and walking to and fro, glancing into streets and looking for hotel signs. I saw couples dating, sitting on benches in the park. Groups of friends in cool outfits, going out on a Friday night. I kept walking. And though the waiting tricycle drivers might be getting suspicious with me passing them by for the nth time, I pretended that I had a destination. I wasn't afraid though. I knew that as long as I didn't go too far from the centro, I'd be alright. And if the worst happened and I wasn't able to find a place to stay, I could always go to the police station and ask for some assistance. Those were the two important things I learned on this trip so far to avoid getting lost - find the town center and the nearest police station.

After less than thirty minutes, I found a hotel sign which looked passable. And by passable I mean that it was neither too shabby nor too expensive. I walked inside and went up to the second floor where the reception desk was. I found out that it was mostly a sex hotel since their rates are measured by the hour. I checked in for 12 hours in their cheapest room and allowed the room boy to lead the way.

The room I got was on the 4th floor and it turned out okay. I had an electric fan turned on at the highest speed, a TV with cable, a surprisingly comfortable bed, a very narrow comfort room, and best of all, an ashtray. It was clean and not too scary-looking and that was enough. I changed my clothes and went out to buy some food from the convenience store.

When I got back, there was someone sweeping on the third floor. At first I thought it was the room boy who escorted me earlier but when I saw the arm holding the dustpan, I knew it couldn't be since this arm was fair and muscular. My eyes traced that arm to the face where it belonged and for a microsecond I stopped climbing the stairs. Hunger. I felt hunger, strong and pure and I knew that I hadn't seen a room boy as attractive as he was. Why, he did not look like a room boy at all even if he was wearing their uniform. He looked like... I don't know. Maybe a prince? He was that good-looking.

He looked at me and though I (unconsciously) tried to hold his gaze, he went back to work. I knew that I couldn't just stay there and stare so I had to walk past him and climb the next flight of stairs though I noticed that I did so much more slowly.

I was watching American Idol while lying on my bed but I still couldn't get him off my mind so I made a plan to be able to see him again. I went down to the lobby and ordered some coffee (though I already bought one from the convenience store earlier) from the receptionist and there he was, resting on the sofa and watching TV. He was sitting behind me though and even if I wanted to turn and simply look at him, I couldn't without me being too obvious. I had a hunch that the girl receptionist had a crush on him too (she wouldn't be able to help it) and I fancied that a fight over him there will be if I so much as hinted that I liked him in front of her. After paying, I stood there, waiting for my coffee but the receptionist told me that it will be delivered to my room (yay!) so up I went.

After closing the door, I sat on the edge of my bed and hoped (with all my might) that he will bring me my coffee. Surely, that was part of his job. Surely, it couldn't be the security guard or the receptionist. Surely.

I couldn't contain my excitement. So I snatched up the hotel policies, read it, and gave lewd meanings to "the hotel staff will also provide additional services to guests if the need arises." I also studied the fire escape map and took note of the staff room or the stock room or other places where he might be found.

While waiting, I imagined all sorts of scenarios which could bring him inside my room. I imagined spilling the coffee on me and asking his help to change my clothes. I imagined spilling it on the floor and when we both kneel down to clean it, we'll kiss. I imagined giving him a tip and talking to him through my eyes that I wanted his company and he would go inside, sit on my bed, and he would hold me.

He would put his arm around me or he would hold my hand and he would look curiously at me. And he would ask my name and where I'm from and I would tell him my story - starting from my flight and ending with how I got there in his city. And he wouldn't know the right words to say, I know. And he wouldn't be able to make things right and I know that too. But it just gets lonely, traveling all by yourself and not being able to talk to anyone. And me alone in my room. Always alone in my room.

Then someone was knocking on my door so I stood up, took some money out of my pocket (for his tip) and opened the door. And there he was! There he was, so close! He had his head down so I couldn't catch his eye and he handed me the coffee on a platter and I placed it on my table but when I turned back he was gone and the money was still on my hands. Why was he avoiding my eye? Did he think I had somebody in my room? Didn't the receptionist tell him I was alone?

After an hour, I went down to the lobby again. I wasn't giving up. One last glance and I'd be okay. One last try. But he wasn't in the lobby. He wasn't in the third floor. He wasn't on the couch in the first floor. He was nowhere to be found.

I ended up walking til I was outside the building. And I just stood there and smoked, gazing at this new city around me and I pretended I was Joseph Gordon-Levitt in "Mysterious Skin" and that someone will pick me up. I was outside this shady hotel and I was waiting and I was smoking and I was pretending to be a callboy. Someone will pick me up soon, I thought as I eyed strangers who were eyeing me back.

"What is there to lose" I thought, "when I've tried to give up my life already?"

A Kiss

It was dark everywhere but this place was all about the lights.

And you were pulling me closer but I was trying to catch his eye and still you went on and I knew that you didn't know how terribly convoluted the situation was. Oh, you have no idea. No fucking idea. But it was all just for fun so I tried to have fun though I'm not sure if he was having any.

Then you turned me around and made me face someone else and I thought this guy seemed okay and maybe we'll have a little kiss. Maybe he'll take me home and maybe we'll even have breakfast together, but I just hate the coldness after. I've never been good at handling that. But then what's a kiss worth these days can you tell me? What's sex worth these days when you can go grab any that you fancy and in that place it was forgivable? It was even expected. A kiss. Just a kiss. What's it worth these days?

And I know it would have been cool. Perhaps it would have felt exciting not to be a wallflower for once but I... I've never mastered that art you see. I lose something whenever I try and I've tried so much I'm now as dry as a husk but you have no idea since we just met so I do nothing except look. I keep scanning the crowd but I don't see my baby there so I do nothing. I look for him there you see. I keep looking for him. I keep thinking one day I'll see him there and maybe we'll kiss and maybe he'll finally take me back home. He was my home, you see. At least, he used to be.

But then you pulled me back again so my thoughts pulled back too and I faced you and then I looked at his face and I saw you looking at each other and I thought maybe you'd kiss and there was this small part of me protesting at the idea but I killed it because I do what's right.

But what's a kiss worth these days can you tell me? What's a harmless kiss' worth? A bellyful of saliva? A nip on the lip? A slimy tongue exercise on learning how deep one can go?

For me a kiss is worth a dream. It's less of an action and more of a reaction. A decision. A kiss is coming home. And I know that at this unholy age I'm much too fucked up by life already but I hold on to these silly things all the same. They laugh at me because of this I know. They roll their eyes and smirk but I have to keep some of my old self intact if I were to go on living.

And everywhere it was dark, but it was all about the lights and I saw brief multi-colored glimpses of everyone's faces and in those fleeting snapshots I saw that we didn't really look drunk. We looked lost. And that darkness - it made the distance between us greater than what it really was as if we're planets drifting in space. And even if some of us were already glued through the mouths there were still the shadows in between. So dark. So lost. So we dance. And we look up at the blinking lights as if they were stars, wishing for that one special kiss to bring us home.