My Four-Storey Home.

Have you experienced that feeling wherein its strange and familiar at the same time? Looking at it, you’ll have that sense of I know this and not so. It felt nostalgic going back to the place. To the place I once called my second home, my high school.

I’ve got a pretty dramatic opening right there, huh? Its funny, actually, but sometimes going back to the place where you figured out most of your life is kinda emotional and dramatic. I was, actually, thinking of a place where I know I can explore without thinking that I was exploring it, and my high school, which is Bangkal High School in Makati, felt quite right.

I think the last time I went there was last year. I was with my friends visiting some teachers and after that, done. But every time I came by the school, I always end up feeling happy. So, last Wednesday, me and a friend went there. And it was crazy. Lots of kids, laughing and gossiping and talking and smiling and studying and even blushing. And what’s crazier is that, in that moment, I see my 16 year-old self to every kid in the lobby.

To cut every sentimental words that I can write here, let me just tell you what I saw physically. I discover that our school has a conference room that I, in my four years of studying there, never knew. That there is another HE Room that I always thought was a storage room and there was two dressing rooms in the AVR. But, I also discover that this school is build for a lot of kids to be ready. We are always thought about the real world and high school felt like the last fantasy shop that we can buy something from. But the truth is, high school is not a fantasy shop, its that real small world that prepares us for the bigger world. Our laughs, our stories, our words, our smiles, our love and our pain seems small in high school but sooner or later it will define us as humans. ( I really felt old writing this high-school-things. Haha)

I guess that’s why I’m always happy going back there. Its quite funny that the school is just a four-storey building but what’s inside has much bigger stories than it seems. Because you may not see it but somehow you’ll feel that your story is written in the hallways. Like its a milestone. Like its a celebration. It was once my home, and I guess, it will always be. ‘Cause for me, High school is like a first love’s kiss, ya’know, sloppy, rigid and warm yet so memorable.

What love feels like.

Is everything worth it? Is this my ending?

I was in my room when his mom called. “He’s in the emergency room. Come here. Quick.” I did go. Quicker than I’ll ever be.

“He’ll be in coma. We don’t know when but.. Its gonna happen.” That’s what the doctor said after the long wait.

I can’t pretend its okay anymore. I got up. Wanting to ease this pain. I ran. Tears falling. My eyes blurry. I don’t know where Im going I just wanted to run. I didn’t know Im outside of the hospital. And in a blink of an eye…

I open my eyes. And there was him, standing in one foot, the other on the wall. With that crooked smile he always wore. But a doctor came in. And then my mom and Kuya. Weeping,

“Why are you crying?” He shifted his foot and go to my direction.

“They can’t hear you, babe.” I look down and I saw my body, cold, pale with a lot of IVs.

“You are on the wait list, too.” I looked at him again, questioning. Then he smiled, sheepishly.

“I needed company.” And all of my questions gone. I smiled.

“I guess Im all that you’ve got.“

Its like being dead and being alive at the same time.

 

Feel free. You deserve it.

I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined. I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned

I was thinking about what Im gonna write in this internet journal, because my friends are constantly posting their entries, but mine is clean. I mean, what does my mind have to be that interesting? What random things I can share that will sound honest and real, and that it doesn’t looked scripted or whatsoever.. Until I go to youtube and search some songs and it was funny I have gone into a throwback song, you know “The Hills”? 

Staring at the blank page before you. Open up the dirty window. Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find.

Its Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield. And I was screaming on the top of my lungs when I clicked it and played it. Twas like an anthem (for me, though.), Every time I here it there is something about this song that says you’re free. Sing it out loud. Nobody will care. (Actually, there was, my sister smacked me with a pillow) And it felt awesome — To not actually sing it, but to say it out loud, that sometimes I’m free.

Reaching for something in the distance. So close you can almost taste it. Release your inhibitions.

I’m free in people’s judgement, in my teacher’s homework, in the shits people have. It makes me feel alive. It makes me want to commit mistakes. It makes me want to say stuff I dont say when I’m guarded. I want to care less about everyone’s drama. I want to be me. Free. Mistakes. Stuffs. Drama. Alive.

Feel the rain on your skin. No one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in No one else, no one else can speak the words on your lips. Drench yourself in words unspoken. Live your life with arms wide open.

Feel free to have mistakes. Say stuff and forget about the drama, and suddenly you’ll feel alive. It makes us human. It makes us worth it. In the span of 4 minutes, we can feel free. And the happiness that it can brought us is much, much, much more than 4 minutes. Shout it out loud. Sing like Whitney Houston. Say it like you are the president giving speech. Be free like a bird.

Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten.

No one else can feel it for you. Be free. Be happy.

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