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...
