Wednesday, April 14, 2010 (A Repost)
Squirting through my bedroom’s window, I could still barely see the old, wooden BENECO post standing beside the goldens tops, the scary garage of our neighbor and the swindling yet tempting radiance of bars and disco houses. The stars above winked and smiled at me when I silently gazed at the pitchy cloudless sky. It never happened before. For such a very long time, I thought, the empyreal creatures might exend another hope, another promise to me. Probably, another unknown pledge to my thready body. This night is absolutely queer.
As I unfold my hands to lit up the last cigar in my pant’s small pocket, enough only for my fist, my thought started to wander inside my dim, really messy room. My mind hovered in the air as I silently watched the clock above JM’s poster cuffed at eleven. Like the rain’s blubbers which filled the earth moments ago, my hollowed thoughts crammed in my own room making it entirely hot and torrid despite the cold breeze of the city penetrating my nearly half-opened window. My eyes cruised around my room again. This time focusing only on the picture between my calculator and penholder adorning the top of my drawer. I never gazed so randy at that picture before like what I’m exactly doing right now. This night is really rare, I thought again as I puffed the cigar in my left hand, sipping every nicotine of it. Bothered by my amorous thoughts, I rushed myself on bed. There I stationed myslef for a while staring aimlessly at the ceiling. I puffed my cigar again. Feeling uneasy, I stretched my right hand and quickly grabbed the phone lying on my study table. And I wrote a mesage:
“Babe, r u bc 2nyt?”
I sent the message thrice and impatiently waited for her reply. I waited and waited and waited ’till my eyes turned white. No reply came, however. I was quite irked. She’s probably sleeping right now, I puckishly thought. I texted her again:
“R u coming wd me 2nyt? It’s hot here..hehehe!”
I waited again. But no reply came. Annoyed, I positioned myself, with hands touching my hips, to leave the room to get some beer in the fridge I bought two days ago. I was about to open the door when my phone, in its traditional Chopin etude, started to yell. Finally, I told my self as I unmindfully threw the cigar’s remains on the floor. A smile surfaced on my face. I grinned. I felt good – terribly good. I quickly picked the phone up, unlocked it and read the message aloud:
“Kung ikaw ay inaapi, bakit hindi ka lumaban. Kung ikaw ay inaalipin, bakit hindi ka bumangon at magbalikwas?”
I was quite puzzled. I was not expecting that message. Never. I thought it was Kay’s.
“Cno po cla?” I replied quickly.
“Iskolar ng Bayan, ngayon ay lumalaban!” A sudden text again surpised me.
“Pcnxa na po, d po aq aktibista!” I texted hurriedly.
“Mag-aral! Matuto! Mamulat! Makibaka!” the person on the other line replied.
This is enough, I mumbled. Then, I gently put the phone in my table and sighed. I stared at the clock. It’s twelve midnight. The stars and the moon above, somehow, were now hiding behind the dark clouds when I looked outside. The entire city was dead. I sighed again.
As I bend my knees to pick the remains of my cigar on the floor, my phone sudenly screaked again. Hoping it was Kay, I grabbed the phone and pored over it. I felt the cold breeze coming from my window. I opened the message. It wasn’t Kay. It was the same person who texted me a few minutes ago. It’s the same person who conquered my whole sanity and dripped the blood in my viens making me totally paralyed. Curious, however, I scanned the message:
“Iskolar ng Bayan, kln k p ki2los? Kln k p mamu2lat? Hanggang kln k mgbu2lag-bulagan? Hanggang kln k mgbi2ngi-bngihan? Kln k maki2bka?”
I was stunned. I was strangled. The blood in my veins rushed into my head and vanquished my soul. All I felt was guilt in my heart’s core. I felt so weak – truly weak- that I couldn’t even budge my right thumb. Shameness quelled me. The stars that smiled at deceived me. I was completely wrong.
My phone screaked again. This time not only once but thrice. But I wasn’t interested anymore reading those messages. The person on the other line might be the one who sent those messages. Never again, I thought. I stared at the clock. I needed to sleep.
When I woke up late in the morning the following day, still haunted by experience the other night, I quickly scanned my phone: 3 Mesages Received. I read the first message:
“I’m not bc 2nyt. Sori, mejo mtgal aq rply. Ngpload mna kc aq. Hot na hot nga rn d2…hehehe. Sure, u cn pick me here up ryt nw f u wnt.
And the second:
And the last:
“Bkt d ka rply? Ngta2mpo ka noh? Pnta na u d2. I’m alone…hehehe! F ur nor available 2nyt, 2mrw nlng. Is it ok?”
I sighed. I stared at the clock. It’s past ten in the evening.