I need rest, too. For the past few weekends, I’ve been sleeping in hotels—literally. All for the org’s work; yes it might be tiring but the fulfillment I get facilitating high school kids or new freshmen is just overwhelming. Getting to be called ‘kuya’ as I assist them is more than what I wanted. Now, I can’t wait to go back to LB and see their faces around campus.
In a few minutes, my NSTP1 should be starting and yet here I am, in the confines of my home in Parañaque. I told them I’d be out in LB for 3 weeks, but homesickness forbade me. Last night I went home and knew for the reason that I’d be taking a rest for this. You don’t have to do everything on your list. And so I learned from my God.
I am blessed. And I pray to thank everyday.
And fate had me deciding when, where, what, why, and how in all manners. Honestly, there’s more orgs and sideline stuff to do. My life right now consists of 80% extracurricular, 20% acads. So help me.
I could stare at this untouched cup of hot coffee for sixty more minutes.
I had been walking on empty roads illuminated by solemn orange street lamps. I could not keep walking anymore. It had been an hour of walking, going nowhere but here and there across the familiar place. It had been an hour before I decided I could use a cup of coffee in this 3 AM silence.
I can still see the wars we endured against our own enemies—our friends. It was the time when we thought we could be selfish, that in each other’s arm we’ll find happiness—even if it meant that we had to sacrifice the spears and bullets they threw at us.
When I tell our literal short story, they always tell me that I should have fought for it. Tell me, listener, would you will to sacrifice friendships for a person?
Rather, I chose to forget and I closed my eyes in my sleeping coffee dream.
That night I dreamt of seeing the skyline of Manila from a terrace at a house from somewhere I’ve never been before. I knew I was somewhere else. I remembered faces were around me, warm and familiar. Although I had recognized none, there was a chill in the air and a vibe.
I hardly remember someone, but I remember that person—one particular person I can’t remember the name or what that person was like. I remember that I met that person the first time that night. And that person just stuck to me. It was the first time someone made me feel like I am special, that I am appreciated and to be fought for. It was the first time my flaws are like a work of abstract art, but that person appreciated that abstract of mine.
I remember trying to emphasize my brokenness to that person. But that someone made me feel fixed—repaired in some fashion that I am perfect the first time.
There are moments when we wake up from a dream so great, that we wish that we had been sleeping and dreaming again. In that moment we find it hard to differentiate what we really dream and what we dreamt to happen. Either way, both are fantasy.
I drank my coffee—the caffeine sank in. And once again, I am awake to my own reality, as dark as that night.
I moved in to an LB apartment thinking that I would own the single bed and two fluffy pillows I brought. Instead, I use half of my bed, with my other body on another’s bed. And only one pillow for my head.
Come to think of it, having 4 beds in a single line was not a bad decision. If your classes start late, you could just roll on empty areas where you can avail of free pillows <3
Come to think of it, one pillow is better than having two. Instead of making ‘lantay’ to your other pillow for warmth, I can rather spoon/hug the nearest person. A human’s warmer anyway.
Share a bed. Maybe you’d realize what it means to make space for someone. Maybe you’d be disciplined to reserve a spot for someone. Maybe you’d learn how to respect and love and care. I know because I realized, I had been disciplined, and I learned how to respect, love, and care.
Thank you for reserving my bed slot. Thank you for not isolating me to the lone bed. Democracy rocks!
Share a pillow. Maybe you’d realize how important it is to hold on tight to your only pillow so it does not get stolen. Maybe that’s why I’m so clingy, because I am afraid of letting my pillows be stolen or get smelly or lose them.
Maybe you’d know whose pillow is which. Their fluffiness, their scent, or their nonexistence.
Maybe two would share one pillow, two heads in one. Maybe because someone na sobrang kapal na mukha ay nanakawin yung unan na hinihigaan mo na na wala nang ititira sayo kahit isang unan man lang.
Or maybe you would use pillows as killing weapons and suffocate each other with the skunk pillows.
But you guys are my real, metaphysical bed and pillows. Not because you’re soft and fluffy but maybe because you comfort me. Maybe sometimes you’re unacceptable because you’re stinky and harsh, but that’s the best thing about your honesty. We may not have equal bed and pillow shares, but it’s great that we can have a democracy—that we actually share and find comfort. Let’s be clingy beds and not leave these beds we are in.
I apologize for sometimes being a noisy pillow. I miss my Rizaleno and Sta Cruz pillows. Let’s not change.