piercingpages

[piercingpages]

i turn 22 today.

the earth has gone around the sun 22 times since i was born, and i am nothing but jealous of its consistency. when i turned 18, i had a clear vision of who i am and who i would be at 22. i even had it all planned out until 25. but life just has its sneaky way of throwing a wrench at you, doesn’t it?

i’ve always craved consistency. in efforts, in words, in people. uncertainty was my greatest fear. little did i know that 21 would shake my whole world up and make me experience all that i’m not used to. the days and nights are coming and going, the dreams starting and ending, the people arriving and leaving, and myself changing and changing. and then i realized, i’ve equated consistency with control. 

when i found myself plummeting down because of my mental health, not knowing what i’m feeling, what’s causing it, and why i am feeling the way i do, i lost track of all the important things. most importantly, i lost myself. and so, i took the brave steps to healing: letting go and asking for help.

in my time of self reflection, i learned to let go and let the universe take over. whatever is meant to be will be, whoever wanted to will find a way to stay in my life, and my highest self will unfold the way it should in front of my very eyes. 

i might be suffering, but oddly enough, i am okay with that. i am okay. i know i’ll be alright and i will be happy because in fact, i am happy. i am happier than ever, actually. i am great. i’m finally doing what i want, and i have never felt more alive. i am unconditionally in love with myself.

the past few months have undeniably been better than 18 to 21 combined. now, i understand how blissful it is to know nothing and to just let the universe surprise you in more ways than one. i am slowly seeing the beauty in uncertainty, and i am seeing the beauty in life again. i am okay.

[piercingpages]

midnight musings

most nights are overwhelming. but this one, like the night before, and the one before that, is different. 

i’ve memorized every nook and cranny, 

examining the patterns on my wall as the world outside drifts into a deep slumber. the scent of late night coffee has grown stronger. more familiar. like the sound of the beating at the cage of my chest. i was deafened from the worries of the world. 

most nights, the smooth velvet of your tone is comfort to my ears. some nights, it’s silence that speaks volumes more than actions and words unsaid can do. our murmurs overpower the sonorous howls of hound dogs adoring the moon the way i want to adore you

most nights

only your voice mattered.

and our hearts ready to beat in sync.

i am ready to listen. 



[piercingpages]

bisita

naging mainam nang panakot ang mga multo. pero para sa akin, normal na ang mga paranormal. may espiritu ang mga tao, ang mga lugar, maging ang nilalaman ng ating mga puso. nakapagtayo na ng dambana ang mga ito sa nakaraan, sinasakop ang kasalukuyan pati na rin ang nasa ibayo. at sa lagim na dumadalaw sa aking bintana dakong alas tres ng umaga, ikaw na yata ang naiiba. ako'y dinuduyam ng mga nanlalamig mong yakap. ang iyong hagikhik ay pagsamo sa gabing nagsisiping ang buwan at ang dilim ng kalangitan. nakasanayan ko nang ulit-ulitin ang mga alaalang nakahabi na sa padron ng aking kisame. at sa kabila ng mga nag-umalpas na panahon, ikaw pa rin ang inaasam ko - ang kasiguraduhan sa lahat ng pag-aalinlangan.

ang multong nakahimlay sa kaibuturan ng naninikip na dibdib.

ang tanging hangad ko ay ang muli mong pagbabalik.

[piercingpages]

Refocusing Women Empowerment: Multi-sectoral resistance against oppression

On March 8, 1917, thousands of women took the streets of Soviet Russia demanding for bread and peace, but most importantly, for their right to vote after the huge damage World War I left on the country, which led to what is believed to be the first and the greatest gathering of women in a protest recorded in history. This anchors the celebration of the International Women’s Day (IWD) commemorated on the same date every year to look back on the suffrage that sparked multiple movements aimed to grant women of their basic civil and human rights. 

Through the decades of resistance against inequality, the rise of the women’s liberation movement and feminism allowed women’s rights advocates to raise awareness about the issues women face, lobby for accelerated response to their calls, and celebrate womanhood and their achievements in a more inclusive intersectional way. 

In the Philippines, during the month of March, the celebration of women continues and highlights emerging women empowerment concerns and breakthroughs which focus on activities regarding gender equality. This year, the Women’s Month Celebration focuses on women in leadership in a world of COVID-19, ironically, under a male-dominated macho-fascist administration.

It is undeniable that the women’s movements have progressed since the early 20th century with women breaking barriers in different fields, and being recognized for their trailblazing contributions to culture and society. It gives high hopes that feminist groups carry on to grow and multiply in the recent years, and even to have more individuals from all walks of life identify as feminists today. However, this poses the unavoidable question of to what extent does this feminism go?

Recently, the boom of social media provided a platform to learn and advocate for feminist causes, allowing women to uplift each other and fight together against discrimination. Although the intention of such is good, there is an obvious lack in the understanding of what the movement truly entails which makes people forget the socialist roots of the women’s liberation and feminism, and put some figures on a pedestal without looking beyond their achievements as women.

It is relatively easier that it became a common practice on social media to uplift women for their contributions to the society, may it be in business, science, arts, pageantry, or politics just like US Vice President Kamala Harris, British writer JK Rowling, and, in the Philippine context, Former President Corazon Aquino who was one of the perpetrators of the Hacienda Luisita massacre which resulted from her failed agrarian reform, late Senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago who was an enabler or the former dictator Ferdinand Marcos and his family, and Senator Pia Cayetano who, despite calling herself a feminist, excused sexist behavior by saying that “boys will be boys” to name a few. This shows how society fails to recognize that not all women in power empower all women. Oftentimes, the women put up on a pedestal unknowingly remains in the benefits of the patriarchal system. 

Understanding women empowerment encompasses women liberation as a liberation from the class struggles as well. After all, the movement towards women’s rights to freedom began as a protest by working class women, refusing to stay prisoner to the unjust ways the patriarchy perpetuated. It is not enough to only advocate for one type of women as the fight for equality transcends to the outcry of the indigenous women, working class women, queer and trans women, women of color, and disabled women. 

It then is necessary to center the celebration of the IWD and the Women’s Month on refocusing women empowerment towards empowering women in the marginalized sectors, first and foremost, who remain deprived of equal rights and just treatment, while the society moves forward to face the common enemy. In hopes of achieving freedom for women and freedom for all, it is crucial to recognize genuine women’s liberation will only be achieved once society finally frees itself from the shackles of the macho-feudal ways of the patriarchal society which continue to oppress women.

It is the citizens’ responsibility to continue utilizing the means presented to them by educating themselves about the intersectional nature of feminism, and to tirelessly assert for the women’s place in society, and amplify consciousness towards women and their plight. So long as women remain oppressed under the culture of sexism and misogyny, the resistance against a macho-feudal patriarchal society will persist and eventually prevail.

Going beyond recognizing that there are indeed women’s issues in the society that need to be addressed, it is imperative to follow collective consciousness with collective action that will amplify dissent against the blatant and constant attacks directed at the marginalized on a day-to-day basis. It is through criticizing the status quo that the comfortable will be disturbed, and that the oppressed can build from in order to attain freedom where nobody is left behind.

[piercingpages]

swimming lessons

they say, where it ends is where it actually begins. like the part of the shore where the water meets the land, where the sea falls and hits the sand. there is a thin line between every beginning and every end. and so, after some time drowning in the uncertain periphery, you emerged from the unforgiving waters, ending your melancholy.

for the past few moons, the sea's haunting depths became familiar that you eventually learned how to navigate against its current. somehow, you learned not to fret in breathlessness, and to keep moving along. so from the darkest depths, you swam to the surface to see the light of the new day.

where drowning ended is where your new life began, but only when your feet touch the shore are you certain that the past journey has reached its full stop. for now, you just have to keep swimming towards the land. keep going, the swimming lessons will eventually show their worth.

[piercingpages]

summer storm

every once in a while, nimbus revisits the skies. he arrives unexpectedly, dark and heavy. unlike luna and sol, he does not come with peace. he presents himself with streaks of lightning that seemingly break the heavens to pieces. his laughs create loud thunder that brings fear across all of the land. today, nimbus hovers the sea.

for a while now, you have been swimming, longing to get to the shallows. despite the unforgiving waters, you have managed to keep your head out on the surface. and so, you ignored his arrival as you slowly got a sight of the shoreline. although you were unfazed, the sea was not at all an exception to the fear nimbus wreaks.

and as the first drop of rain from nimbus and the sea meet, the waters turned violent. the currents became quick and harsh. the waves come crashing at you, sweeping your tired body back into the deep end. then, you lost it. you find yourself sinking, drowning slowly. again. a thunderstorm at sea.

the swimming lessons did not prepare you for nimbus's fury.

[piercingpages]

Painting PH: The Colors of Philippine Politics

When it comes to politics, colors are powerful tools used to send a message without even  saying anything at all. In the Philippines, there is perhaps nothing more colorful than the Filipinos’ bright smiles and festivities, but the season of electing the next leaders of the nation.

Specific colors have been used to represent universal values across the globe for political parties that uphold the same beliefs. In the country, colors also play a huge role in building public trust and promoting a sense of unity and belongingness among voters as they act to appeal to the shared emotions of the public. These colors amplify a politician’s impact through appearance-associated desires and carefully curated images that are enough to hold a strong political stance.

In some countries like the United States and the United Kingdom, blue and red remains the colors of politics as a reflection of the predominantly two-party electoral system that remains until today, wherein the color blue is often associated with the conservative traditionalist parties, while red is for socialist democrats and, in other cases, labor-communist unions. However, for other countries with a multi-party system like India, Indonesia, and Korea, the colors yellow for center-left liberals, green for environmental and Islamic nationalists, orange for pro-market libertarians, white for independent two-side ideologists who balance a neutrality between the conservatives and the liberals, and purple for feminist and centrist parties have also been used to signify a stance towards specific causes and ideologies that certain politicians endorse in their campaigns and platforms. 

The same observation can be made for the Philippines, being another country with a multi-party electoral system in Asia. In the past decades, while red nationalists in the likes of the pro-Marcoses and yellow liberals like the Aquino loyalists have shared dominance over the colors of politics, many other parties and personalities like the orange Villars, white and green Loren Legarda camps, and the purple and yellow trademark colors of Riza Hontiveros, to name a few, have risen to political popularity in recent years. However, the dichotomy made by the two influential families has continued to persist even though the Marcoses have not gained a position in Malacanang since 1986. But still, in every election, the battle of the red nationalists and yellow liberals continue through a new generation of politicians bred in the same system to succeed one after another. 

Before yellow covered a good portion of the nation, there has only been one hue in the Philippines which is the deep red of the first and oldest party in the Philippines, the Nacionalista Party, founded in 1902. The Nacionalista Party is also the party of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos whose downfall was brought about by the power of the people with Cory Aquino as one of the key figures. Cory Aquino was the wife of Benigno Aquino Jr., Liberal Party bet and known opposition to the Marcos regime who was assassinated during Martial Law. As the dichotomy continued in the previous presidencies, the rift between the yellow and red was reinforced within the successive terms of Noynoy Aquino and Rodrigo Duterte from PDP-Laban, a democratic socialist party that is also represented by the color red. However, this coming election, it is pink that is quickly becoming the “color of change ”.

VP Leni Robredo announced her candidacy for presidency and chose the color pink to represent her party – a departure from the traditional yellow she dons as she enters the 2022 presidential elections as an independent candidate. Pink, associated with the delicacy of femininity, is rarely regarded as strong, but as cultures around the world changed, it affected how society formed a new view on femininity as a symbol of strength and courage. While the idea of Robredo in pink seems to be an attempt to diffuse the polarization of the opposition and the Duterte administration, it is also a conscious attempt to focus her campaign on her individuality, rather than on the mixed legacy of her previous party. Pink’s association with gentleness is also a sharp turn from traditional politics, especially from Duterte who implemented a macho-fascist style of leadership. But as the supporters on the pink camp continue to gain numbers, the red is persistent for a challenge.

This presidential election, two candidates, completely different in political beliefs, are growing in popularity. One of them is Bongbong Marcos, son of the former dictator, and the other, labor-leader and activist Ka Leody De Guzman. The use of red is primarily associated with the Marcoses because of its ties to the Nacionalista Party, but the widespread reemergence of red as a color to represent the plight of the masses through Ka Leody’s campaign is going back to the roots of red as the color of revolution. The progressives from the left-wing and communists wear the color red to symbolize the fight for liberation and freedom that elicit a strong feeling of courage, love, and sacrifice from revolutionaries. As a labor-leader, the color red also represents the power of the masses in Ka Leody’s candidacy to whom he calls to end elitism and the corrupt political system in the country.

The existence of two completely contradicting reds in the current landscape of Philippine politics, although completely common in the United States, can bring confusion to the public. This is due to the fact that the Nacionalista red disguises themselves as a pro-country party b has a majority voters from the rural areas of the country, while the revolutionary red represents pro-people advocacies that often get misrepresented in the mainstream media and labeled by the government as terrorists. Because of this, the causes of the revolution that would benefit the whole of the nation gets undermined by the greater public due to the rampant attack and blatant misinformation.

The multi-party political system in the country which makes the elections as colorful as it is with different party colors bannered throughout the Philippines, along with the identity politics that come into play during the electoral season produces rather a spectacle. Instead of actually being helpful in providing the Filipinos with a number of options to choose who forwards an agenda that genuinely benefits the general public, this facade makes the color clashing more of an entertainment and less of a matter that should be taken seriously. Most importantly, the multi-party electoral system harms the nation in such a way that it provides the nation with a false sense of individuality among politicians that share the same ideals but chose to join a different partylist to gain personal and political benefit for themselves.

The multi-party system provides the Filipinos with an illusion of choice, masking politicians with the same values and intentions with different colors when they, in fact, have the same principles and go around about the same circle of influences as they came from almost identical walks of life – the upper class. This system seems to be more individualistic with little to no regard for real unity to establish genuine reforms necessary to change the systems that impede the betterment and compromise the quality of life of the Filipinos as more often than not, different parties that exist are just a subgroup of another to have more chances of occupying government positions. With this, it is valid and necessary to question and assess the intentions of a politician, no matter what color they represent as the multi-party political system only hides the miniscule differences these political parties actually have between them.

It is indeed important to ponder on whether the country is better off with a two-party system, or whether the multi-party system is working in its favor just right, but it shall never be forgotten that no matter who the politician is and no matter what color they choose to represent themselves, it is imperative to be critical and vigilant at all times for the sake of the Filipino people. It is crucial to elect leaders that are ready to serve the people with good intent and integrity, and leaders who shall uphold the rights of its constituents at all costs with unwavering regard for the improvement of the quality of life of the whole nation, especially this Halalan 2022 and after. And with elections nearing and political colors getting more saturated as May 9th approaches, remember that there is no color more revolutionary than the true red of the Filipino people. 

[piercingpages]

Maikling Talakayan sa Kilusang Mayo Uno

Sa Pilipinas, ang yaman na hawak ng 20 pinakamayamang indibidwal ay katumbas sa pinagsama-samang yaman ng pinakamahirap na 54 milyong Pilipino. Habang nadadagdagan ang yaman ng bilyonaryo sa Pilipinas, lalo namang naghihirap ang uring manggagawa. 

Sentro sa layunin ng pag-uunyon ang malaya at malawak na paglaban para sa makatao at nakabubuhay na kondisyong pangtrabaho ng mga manggagawa. Ang unyon ang siyang kumakatawan sa mga negosasyon sa pagitan ng mga miyembro at ng pinamamasukan. 

Kasaysayan ng KMU

Isinilang ang unyonismo sa bansa sa pagwawakas ng pananakop ng Espanya sa Pilipinas noong 1989. Ang Union Obrero Demoratica Filipina ang kauna-unahang unyon sa bansa at sa pangunguna ni Isabelo Delos Reyes, ipinaglaban nila ang makatwirang sahod ng manggagawa sa mga planta ng tobacco. 

Noong May 1, 1980, sa kasagsagan ng Martial Law ni Marcos, itinatag naman ang Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU) upang itaguyod at palaganapin ang karapatan ng mga manggagawa sa buong kapuluan, sa pamamagitan ng “tunay, militante, at anti-imperyalistang unyonismo.”

Ang KMU ay produkto ng masigasig na pagkilos ng progresibong manggagawa upang ipaglaban ang kahirapang dinanas sa Martial Law ni Marcos. Maaalala pa nga noong Mayo Uno 1982, sa Labor Day address ng dating pangulo, sinabi niya na “[to] the elements of the labor movement…hindi kami nasisindak sa inyo…Pananagutin ko kayo sa inyong panlilinlang.” Pagdating ng Agosto ng parehong taon, inaresto ang 79-taong-gulang na lider-manggagawang si Felix Olalia kasama ang 13 na kasama. Ito ang una sa crackdown ng administrasyong Marcos sa kilusang paggawa. 

Ang deka-dekadang laban kontra kontraktwalisasyon ay nagsimula rin sa panahon ni Marcos. Pinirmahan ng diktador ang Philippine Labor Code noong 1974, na pinayagan ang anim na buwang “probationary status” para sa mga empleyado. Sa ganitong paraan naiiwasan ng mga empresa ang pagregularisa sa kanilang manggagawa, kaya’t hindi nabibigyan ng sapat na benepisyo, insyurans, paid leave, at sapat na bonus ang mga empleyado. Nalilimitahan sila sa paulit-ulit na pag-renew ng kanilang anim na buwang kontrata. 

Ngunit wala pa ito sa kalingkingan ng pandarahas na sinapit ng mga manggagawa sa ilalim ni Marcos, lalo na sa Timog Katagalugan (TK). Matatandaan ang mga manggagawang martyr mula sa mga probinsya ng TK gaya nina Noel Clarete, Ronilo Evangelio, Aurelio Magpantay, at Ismael Umali, o kilala bilang Lakbayan martyrs, na mga estudyante’t lider-manggagawa mula sa Batangas. Matapos dakipin sa Lakbayan, natagpuan ang kanilang pinira-pirasong katawan sa Cavite noong 1984. Si Florencio Pesquesa naman, isang magsasaka at lider-manggagawa sa Hacienda Inchian sa Laguna, ay dinakip noong 1979 at hindi na muling natagpuan. 

Ang mga anti-manggagawang polisiya at crackdown sa kilusan sa ilalim ni Marcos ay hindi nalalayo sa kasalukuyang administrasyon ni Duterte. 

Mga panawagan ng PAMANTIK-KMU

Ang Pagkakaisa ng Manggagawa sa Timog Katagalugan – Kilusang Mayo Uno o PAMANTIK KMU ang “militanteng sentro ng paggawa sa Timog Katagalugan” ayon sa kanilang Facebook page. Ipinagmamalaki ng kilusan ang tunay, militante, at anti-imperyalistang unyonismo na matinding pinaglalaban ang kontraktwalisasyon sa bansa. Sa rehiyon ng Timog Katagalugan (TK), lampas lamang sa 3% ng manggagawa ang unyonado. Gayunpaman, may 2,274 na unyong kumakatawan sa halos 200,000 manggagawa sa rehiyon.

Ngayong Mayo Uno 2022, una sa panawagan ng Pamantik KMU ang pagtutol sa mga repormang nagdudulot ng pagtaas ng presyo ng mga bilihin, regularisasyon at pagsasabatas ng P750 national minimum wage, hustisya para sa mga biktima ng Bloody Sunday, at ang pagbuwag ng NTF-ELCAC.

Sa kasalukuyan, may tatlong kinikilalang batas ang kilusan na nagdudulot ng pagsirit ng presyo ng bilhin at pagpapahirap sa manggagawa: ang RA 10963 o Tax Reform for Acceleration and Inclusion (TRAIN Law), ang RA 11213 o Amnestiya sa Buwis ng Lupa, at RA 11346 na nagbibigay dagdag-buwis sa sigarilyo at katulad na produkto. Para sa manggagawa ng TK, hindi kinikilalang tunay na ‘reporma’ ang mga batas na ito, kundi mga oportunidad para sa mga empresa na magpiga ng tubo.

Ang epekto nitong mga batas na nagdagdag presyo sa mga bilihin ay tumutulay sa pang araw-araw na pamumuhay ng maralita. Ang ‘reporma’ na hinahain ng TRAIN law ay hindi reporma para sa karaniwang tao, kundi reporma para pondohan ang Build Build Build program ni Duterte, na negatibong nakaaapekto sa hanapbuhay, lalo na sa uring manggagawa. Halimbawa na rito ang reclamation projects na nagbabanta sa kabuhayan at komunidad ng mga mangingisda sa Cavite, at ang pagtigil ng operasyon ng mga dyip at pagpapalayas sa manininda sa Batangas Pier para sa isang development project.

Mga banta sa manggagawa ng Timog Katagalugan

Matapang din na tinutulan ang pananakot, panghaharas, at pag-reredtag ng NTF-ELCAC sa mga unyon ng manggagawa. Para sa mga manggagawa sa Laguna, hindi na bago sa kanila ang makatanggap ng “bisita” mula sa mga tauhan ng AFP at NTF-ELCAC. Noong nakaraang taon, sa kalagitnaan ng krisis ng COVID-19, sunod-sunod ang pagbisita ng NTF-ELCAC sa mga bahay ng miyembro ng unyon ng Wyeth Philippine Progressive Workers Union (WPPWU) sa Canlubang at Nexperia Philippines Inc. Workers Union (NPIWU) sa Cabuyao. Pinilit ng NTF-ELCAC ang mga lider-manggagawa na “sumuko” at itinulak silang tumiwalag sa KMU.  

Paliwanag ng WPPWU, labag sa kanilang karapatan ang pagpupumilit sakanila ng PNP na tumiwalag sa KMU. Dagdag ng unyon, ang KMU ay kakampi nila sa panawagan ng pagpapataas ng sahod at benepisyo sa manggagawa, kaya’t wala silang dahilan upang tumiwalag sa organisayon.

Pahayag din ni Mary Ann Castillo, ang Presidente ng NPIWU, “we were wrong to think that COVID-19 is the biggest threat to our lives right now.” Lalo na’t ang mga bisitang ito ay nangyari ilang buwan lang ang nakalipas matapos ang Bloody Sunday o COPLAN ASVAL, kung saan pinaslang ng PNP ang siyam na lider-manggagawa at aktibista sa rehiyon ng CALABARZON, at kay Dandy Miguel tatlong linggo paglipas ng Bloody Sunday.

Nakakapangilabot, ngunit mahalagang balikan ang marahas na pagpaslang kina Manny Asuncion sa Cavite, sa mag-asawang mangingisda na sina Chai at Ariel Evangelista sa Batangas, maralita at aktibistang sina Melvin Dasigo, Mark Bacasno, Edward Esto at Abner Esto sa Rizal,  at sina Puroy at Pulong Dela Cruz na miyembro ng mga Dumagat na matagal nang tinututulan ang pagpapatayo ng Kaliwa Dam. 

Gaya ng mga banta ni Marcos noong 1982 sa mga manggagawa ng bansa, tinupad din ni Duterte ang utos na nanggaling mismo sa kanyang bibig, “I will kill you.” Ngunit ngayong Mayo Uno 2022, nakita na lalong tumindig ang masang Pilipino upang singilin at panagutin ang presidente sa paglabag sa karapatan ng manggagawa.

Mayo Uno 2022: “Masang anakpawis, biguin ang tambalang Marcos-Duterte”

Kahit na desentralisado ang mga Martsa ng mga Manggagawa sa iba’t ibang probinsya ng Rizal, Laguna, Davao, Cebu, Pampanga, Iloilo, Bacolod, Camarines Sur, at Baguio, makikitang iisa ang kanilang tinig – ang pagwawakas sa tambalang Marcos-Arroyo-Duterte sa papasok na eleksyon. 

Nais ng kilusang paggawa na panagutin si Duterte sa mga naturing isyu – ang kahirapan at pang-aapi na dinanas ng sambayanang Pilipino sa ilalim ng kanyang administrasyon, partikular sa mga patakaran na kaninang nabanggit na pabor lamang sa maliit na populasyon ng burgesya at panginoong maylupa, ang napakong pangako ng dagdag sahod, ang patuloy na pag-iral ng kontraktwalisasyon, kawalan ng tunay na repormang agraryo sa bansa, at ang paglaki ng bilang ng extra-judicial killings at red-tagging sa mga indibidwal at mga unyon. Klaro, malakas, at nagliliyab ang panawagan ng mga manggagawang ipaglaban ang kanilang karapatan sa sapat na sahod at ligtas na kondisyong paggawa, ang kanilang kaligtasan laban sa mapangahas na estado, at ang paninigurado na hindi manunumbalik ang mga administrasyong nagdulot ng kanilang paghihirap. 

[piercingpages]

pag-alaala sa mga alaala ng lomi

Sa lahat ng mga putaheng aking natikman na, hindi ko maipagkakaila na ang loming Batangas ang pinakamakabuluhang pagkain sa aking buhay. Bilang isang Batangueña, tila kakabit na ng aking probinsyal na identidad ang lomi. Pangkaraniwan nang maituturing sa akin ang matanong tungkol sa lomi oras na malaman ng mga kaibigan o ng mga bagong kakilala na ako ay nagmula sa lugar ng mga barako.

Sa totoo lang, hindi ko rin alam kung ano nga bang mayroon sa Loming Batangas at kung bakit ito laging dinadayo. Kung tutuusin, pareho lang naman ang lomi ng Batangas at ang lomi na luto sa ibang lugar bukod na lang sa katotohanang mas malapot, mas malaman, at hindi maipagkakailang mas masarap ang aming authentic Batangas lomi. Pag dating sa usapang lomi, may kaunting yabang nga talaga yata kaming mga taga-Batangas dahil bilang bahagi ng pagkakakilanlang Batangueño, karaniwan at karamihan sa amin ay pinalaki sa pagkain ng lomi. Kung ako ang tatanungin, ang tanging paliwanag na lang siguro dito ay ang magkahalong pakiramdam ng saya sa pagkilala at pananabik sa mga alaala na nagmumula sa proseso ng pagkonsumo ng lomi na nakakabit na sa isang alala. Maging ako ay hindi makatakas sa paniniwala kong loming Batangas ang pinakamasarap na pagkain dahil na lang sa mga alaala at karanasang kaakibat ng pagkain ko ng lomi buhat sa aking pagkabata na syang nagbibigay-init sa aking kalooban.

Kung pag-uusapan lang naman ang mga pangunahing pangangailangang pantao, hindi maipagkakaila na isa ang init sa mga kailangan ng mga tao para magpatuloy sa buhay. Ang apoy at ang araw ay naging malalaking tulong sa pagpapanatiling buhay ng sibilisasyon sa loob ng mga nakalipas nang mga taon ngunit hindi lamang ito ang init na aking tinutukoy. Higit pa sa usapin ng klima at temperaturang panlabas, ang init ng puso at kaluluwa ay mahalaga rin para mabuhay ang tao. Ito na siguro ang dahilan kung bakit parang may isang pwersang tumatawag sa mga indibidwal para hanapin ang tinutukoy kong init mula sa iba’t ibang mga bagay, lugar, pangyayari, mga alaala at maging mula sa ibang pang tao. Ang init sa loob na ito ang siyang nagpaparamdamsa mga ligaw na kaluluwang nakakulong sa mga kalamnan at rehas na gawasa mga buto na kahit papaano, sila ay tao – humihinga at may kakayahang makaramdam.

Para sa akin, isa ang pagkain sa mga pinakamabisang paraan upang mapunan ng init ang aking kaloob-looban. Mapalad na nga ako na ang Pilipinas ay mistulang isang malaking kainan na may mayaman at sari-saring putahe. Sa bahay na lang namin sa lungsod ng Lipa sa Batangas, samu’t saring luto ng pagkain ang nakakapagpabusog sa akin sa literal at metaporikal na paraan. Ang kakaibang pakiramdam ng pagiging at home at ang iba’t ibang alaalang naitatahi ko sa aking pagkonsumo ng mga pagkain na ito ang nagpapaalala sa akin na buhay pa ako at nandito sa mundo.

Maraming alaalang kaakibat ang salitang “lomi” para sa akin ngunit ang pinakamalinaw ay ang mga alaala ko sa lomihan ni Tatay, ang ama ni Mama. Ang lomihan ang naging hanapbuhay nina Nanay at Tatay na siyang pinagkukuhanan nila ng kanilang pantustos sa kanilang mga gastusin. Hindi naman dahil sa pinagkakaitan sila nina Mama at ng iba pa niyang mga kapatid ng pera, kung hindi ay dahil ayaw na rin daw nina Nanay at Tatay na dumagdag pa sa sinusustentuhan ng mga anak nila dahil may sari-sarili nang pamilya ang mga ito. Bukod pa dito, mahilig silang dalawang magluto kaya naman ang negosyong ito ay mistulang isang gawing pinagkakaabalahan na lang sa mag-asawa.

Noong bata pa ako, nakasanayan ko na ang tumambay sa lomihan nina Tatay at Nanay pagkalabas ko galing sa paaralan. Lagi akong iniiwan doon nina Mama at Papa para makabalik sila sa kani-kanilang mga trabaho kaya naman, nasaksihan ko na yata lahat ng pangyayari na maaaring makita ng isang bata sa loob ng lomihan.

Kakaiba ang hitsura ng lomihan nina Tatay. Sa labas, makikita ang lomihan sa tabi ng maliit na simbahan, sa harapan ng bahay nina Nanay at Tatay, doon sa ilalim ng puno ng mangga na ilang taon na rin sa kanila. Sa katunayan, natunghayan ng puno ng mangga na ito ang paglaki nina Mama at ng iba pa niyang mga kapatid at noon panahong lumipas, ang lomihan naman sa ilalim nito ang naging saksi sa paglaki naming magpipinsan. Ang lomihan ay mukhang kubo na ang mga pader ay gawa lang sa mga pinagtagpi-tagping mga yero at kahoy. Ang mga bintana nito ay may tabing na lumang tarpaulin ng politiko na marahang tinitiklop o ibinubuka ni Tatay depende na lang kung maaraw ba o maulan habang ang pintuan ng lomihan ay gawa sa mga latag ng aluminum na nabili ni Tatay sa kalapit na bentahan ng mga kalakal na basura.

Ang lomihan ay nahahati sa tatlong bahagi sa loob. Sa unang bahagi ng lomihan matatagpuan ang apat na maliliit na lamesa kung saan pangkaraniwang lumalagi ang mga taong may kumakalam na sikmura. Sa itaas ng pridyider sa may tabi ng pinutan ay nakapatong ang lumang telebisyong pansamantalang umaagaw sa atensyon ng mga kostumer habang si Tatay ay abala sa paghahalo ng mga sangkap ng lomi sa malaking talyasi sa ikalawang bahagi ng lomihan kung saan napapaloob ang kusina at lababo. Ang ikatlong bahagi naman ng lomihan ay ang maliit na sari- sari store ni Nanay na madalas na ako rin ang bantay sa tuwing nakakatulugan na niya ito tuwing oras ng siyesta.

Napanood ko kung paanong maya’t mayang naglalabas-pasok ang mga kostumer sa lomihan sa kabila ng tirik na araw at mga tumatagktak na pawis sa buwan ng Marso hanggang Mayo, kung paanong kahit sa ulan ng Hunyo hanggang Agosto ay marami pa ring patron ng lomihan ang naghihintay sa malapot at malamang lomi ni Tatay, kung paanong minsan ay hindi na magkanda-ugaga sina Tatay at Nanay sa paghahain ng lomi sa mga kumakalam ang sikmura hanggang mistula isang bundok na ng maruruming pinagkainan ang naiwan sa lababo at kung paanong kung minsan naman ay wala man lang ni isang tao ang nag-abalang maging saksi sa marahang paghahanda ni Tatay ng mga rekado ng lomi sa maliit na lamesa sa madilim na sulok ng kainan at sa paghalo niya sa mga ito sa halo ng miki bihon, itlog at iba pang pampalasa bukod na lang sa aking sarili. Hanggang ngayon ay malinaw pa rin sa aking isip ang tunog ng mga nagkikiskisang kubyertos at gamit- panluto pati na rin ang nangingibabaw na amoy ng ginisang sibuyas at bawang maging ang tunog ng marahang paglagaslas ng tubig habang naghuhugassi Nanay ng mga pinagkainan.

Pagtungtong ko sa elementarya, mistulang kabute sa tag-ulan ang bilis ng pagsulpot ng kabi-kabilang lomihan sa aming barangay. Parang isa sa bawat limang kabahayan na yata ang may lomihan doon sa amin. Kasabay ng pag-usbong ng mga kakumpitensya sa negosyo ang paghina ng lomihan ni Tatay at gayon din ang paghina ng kaniyang katawan. Dahil palagi pa rin akong naiiwan sa lomihan, minsan ay tumutulong ako sa paghuhugas ng mga pinggan at pagliligpit ng mga pinagkainan. Naobserbahan ko ang pagtumal ng patron sa lomihan nina Tatay. Hindi ko rin naman sila masisi kung bakit lumipat sila sa ibang lomihan dahil kung hindi maagang magsara ay madalas nang sarado ang kina Tatay na kainan dahil mas mabilis na siyang mapagod ngayon kaysa noong dati. Minsan, dahil sa aga magsara ni Tatay, ako at ang iba ko pang pinsan ang nagsisilbing taga-ubos ng mga hindi naitindang lomi.

Para sa akin, ang lomi ni Tatay ang pinakamasarap na loming natikman ko sa buong buhay ko. Marahil ay sanhi na rin ito ng sa tuwing sumusubo ako ng lomi ni Tatay, nalalasahan ko sa bawat paglapat nito sa aking dila ang sipag at dedikasyon na inilalagay niya sa pagluluto ng lomi. Gusto kong ihalintulad ang aming pinalawak na pamilya sa partido nina Mama sa lomi ni Tatay. Para makaluto ng lomi, kailangan ng karne, ng atay, ng sibuyas at bawang, ng mga itlog, ng patis o toyo, ng miki bihon, at ng cornstarch. Sa aming pamilya, magkakaiba man ng paniniwala, ugali, gusto at lugar na inuuwian, si Nanay ang nagsilbing bihon at si Tatay naman ang nagsilbing pampalapot na silang nagbibigkis sa aming lahat. Siguro ay gayon na nga kaya naging malabnaw ang aming samahan na parang loming walang pampalapot noong nagdesisyon ang langit na kuhanin na sa amin si Tatay.

Tandang tanda ko pa noong nagsara ang lomihan nina Tatay. Wala silang binigay na dahilan sa akin bukod sa napapagod na raw siya at kailangan na niyang magpahinga. Lingid sa kaalaman ko ay may malubhang sakit na pala si Tatay na hanggang ngayon ay hindi ko pa rin natitiyak kung ano. Prostate? Puso? Baga? Hindi ko pa rin alam kung anong komplikasyon at aling bahagi ng katawan ang tumapos sa mga araw ni Tatay sa mundo. Ang natatandaan ko lang ay ang huling pag-usap namin noong mismong araw na binawian sya ng buhay. Kadarating ko lang noong mula sa paaralan at dumaan lang ako sa bahay nina Tatay para mangamusta.

“Aba, buti napadaan ka. Dito ka titigil ngayon?” masiglang bati ni Tatay sa akin habang nagwawalis sa labas ng lomihan. “Tiningnan ko lang po kung may kasama kayo. Baka po umuwi rin ako agad,” sagot ko. Isinandal ni Tatay ang walis sa haligi ng lomihan at iniaabot ang kamay niya sa akin para magmano. “Bakit naman? Wala pa naman akong kasama dito.” “Medyo marami po kasi akong kailangan pang tapusin eh,” pagmamadali ko. Nagbuntong hininga si Tatay bago nagsalita muli, “Ah, ganoon ba? Siya, sige, manungkit ka na lang muna ng mangga tapos dalhin mo sa inyo,” “Hindi na po siguro. Okay lang po,” patuloy na tanggi ko. Sa pagod na rin niya siguro ay “Oh, sige. Basta bumalik ka mamayang hapon ha? Maglolomi ako,” na lang ang kaniyang nasabi bago ako umalis.

Hindi ko lubos na maintindihan kung bakit nga ba madaling madali akong umuwi noong araw na iyon at kung bakit ‘di pangkaraniwan ang pagiging mapilit ni Tatay sakin noon. Ang alam ko lang ay hindi na ako nakabalik kinahapunan dahil tinamad akong umalis mula sa bahay. Kinagabihan, sa kasagsagan ng miting de avance ng mga kanditdatong panlungsod, nakatanggap ng tawag si Mama mula sa kanyang ate habang nasa loob kami ng sasakyan.

“Nasaan kayo? Umuwi muna kayo sa atin… Wala na ang tatay.”

"Wala na ang Tatay.”

“Wala na ang Tatay.”

Wala na ang Tatay. Hindi maproseso ng utak ko ang apat na simpleng salitang binitawan ng tiyahin ko mula sa kabilang linya. Tulala ako buong byahe pauwi. Kung sa isang pangkaraniwang araw ay sampung minuto lang ang kailangan para makarating sa bahay nina Tatay mula sa bayan, sa gabing iyon ay para bang ilang oras nang pinatatakbo ni Papa ang aming sasakyan pero hindi pa rin naming nararating ang dapat naming puntahan. Sa labas ng kotse, mistulang nauna nang magluksa ang langit nang magtago sa likod ng ulap ang buwan. Tahimik rin ang mga lansangan at tanging ang makina na lang ng umaandar naming sasakyan ang pinanggagalingan ng ingay. Bukod dito, ramdam din ang bigat ng dibdib ng apat na taong lulan ng sasakyan - walang imik at panay pa ang hikbi’t buntong-hininga.

Ilang sandali pa, binati ng maliwanag na ilaw mula sa bahay nina Tatay ang aming pamilya. Nakapag-ayos na pala ang funeraria sa may sala. Pito na sa sampung kapatid ni Mama ang nasa bahay noong dumating kami. Ang mga matang namumugto mula sa matagal nang pag-iyak ay muli na naming lumuha noong lumapit sa kanila si Mama. Bilang isang batang labing-tatlong taong gulang, wala akong ibang nagawa kung hindi maupo sa isang sulok kasama ang mga pinsan kong katulad ko ay litong-lito rin sa bilis ng pangyayari.

Alas kuwatro na ng madaling araw nang dumating ang malamig na kabaong kung saan nakahiga si Tatay. Mula sa labas ng bahay, narinig ko ang mga hikbi ni Nanay na yakap-yakap ng bunsong tito ko. Buong magdamag gising lahat ng tao sa bahay hanggang sa lahat ng mga anak at apo nina Tatay at Nanay ay naipon sa loob ng maliit nitong espasyo. Napatanong ako sa sarili ko noong mga sandaling iyon, bakit kahit puno na ang bahay ng mga pagod at nagluluksang katawan ay ramdam na ramdam pa rin ang puwang na naiwan ng isang kaluluwang lumisan kahit kapiling naman namin ang kaniyang katawan? Parang isang loming walang cornstarch, kumpleto man ang mga sangkap ay mayroon pa ring malaking pagkukulang at pagkakaiba.

Singbilis ng pagkawala ni Tatay ang paglipas ng mga buwan ngunit sa akin, parang hindi pa rin naghihilom ang sugat na iniwan ng kaniyang paglisan. Nagdesisyon ang mga tiyuhin kong buksan muli ang lomihan. Dati kasi, nagkaroon ng usapan sa aming pamilya na ang mga anak na lalaki ang magtutuloy ng negosyo ng pamilya kung mawala man si Tatay bilang kabayaran na rin sa mga naitulong nito sa pag-aaral ng magkakapatid. Ngunit kahit ganito na nga ang napagkasunduan, para sa akin, kahit anong gawin nila, hinding hindi na ito magiging katulad ng dati. Panghihinayang at pagka-inis sa sarili ang nararamdaman ko sa tuwing naaalala ko ang mga pinagsamahan namin ni Tatay doon sa lomihan lalo na noong araw ng kaniyang kamatayan. May bahagi sa utak ko na sumisisi sa aking sarili sa nangyari sa kanya. Kung hindi ko lang sana tinanggihan si Tatay, kung hindi lang sana ako nagmadaling umuwi, kung pinagbigyan ko sana siya at sinamahan sa bahay noong araw na iyon, baka sakaling natulungan ko siya. Dahil siguro dito sa aking mga agam-agam kaya hindi ako nakakain ng lomi sa loob ng dalawang taon. Hindi ko naman ito personal na pasya, hindi lang talaga maatim ng aking kalooban ang trabaho ng muling pagpapasaya ng mga malulungkot na alaala at sandaling kaakibat ng pagkain ng lomi.

Mula noong namatay si Tatay, hindi na ako muling kumain ng lomi hanggang isang araw, niyaya ako ng mga pinakamalalapit kong kaibigan sa hayskul na magpunta sa lomihan malapit sa sakayan ng jeep namin pauwi. Ito ang unang beses na titikim ako ng ulit ng lomi, loming hindi luto ni Tatay, sa pamimimilit na rin ng mga kaibigan ko. Hindi ko itatanggi na sa unang beses kong kumain muli ng lomi ay nagbalik sa isip ko ang mga alaala ni Tatay at ng lomihan na aking kinalakihan ngunit sa tulong na rin ng mga kasama ko ay unti-unting naalis ang kalungkutang naramdaman ko. Tanda ko pa ang sabi sa akin ng mga kaibigan ko, ang pangako na gagawa kami ng bago at masasayang alaala sa lomi at sa lomihang iyon.

Bukod pa sa pangako ng masayang alaala mula sa aking mga pinakamatatalik na kaibigan, gumawa rin ng hakbang sina Mama at Papa para mapaganda muli sa aming magkakapatid ang imahe ng lomi. Isinali nina Mama at Papa ang lomi sa mga selebrasyon katulad ng mga kaarawan at pista para manumbalik ang mga magagandang alala ni Tatay. Tuwing linggo, pagkatapos sumimba, ay pumupunta kami sa lomihan na mukhang kubo. Ang paligid nito ay nagbibigay ng impresyon ng ordinaryong bahay tulad ng lomihan nina Tatay dati. Sa harap ng aming mga lomi, pinipilit namin na walang ibang mapag-usapan kung hindi mga masasayang bagay katulad halimbawa ng corny na biro na natutunan ng kapatid ko mula sakanyang mga kaibigan at ang bagong natutunan ko life hack mula sa 5-minute crafts sa Facebook.

Hindi nga nagtagal ay nanumbalik ang saya na nararamdaman ko sa tuwing kumakain ako ng lomi. Kung noong sariwa pa ang alaala ng pagkamatay ni Tatay ay kahit anong init pa ng lomi ay hindi pa rin nito matatalo ang lamig sa puwang na iniwan ni Tatay sa aking kalooban, ngayon ay walang iba kung hindi pagpupuno ng naturang puwang sa pamamagitan ng masasayang pangyayaring kaakibat ng pagkain ng lomi ang nagagawa sa akin nito.

Sa kasalukuyan, sa tuwing nababagabag ako o kaya naman ay nananabik sa aking pamilya, naging gawi ko na ang maghanap ng lomihan sa Los Baños. Sa tuwing umuulan din, wala na yata akong nagiging ibang bibig kung hindi ang lomi – ang lomi na nagpapakalma sa akin. Ito na ang nagpapasaya sa akin sa pamamagitan ng pagpaparamdam na kahit papaano ay malayo man sa ako sa Batangas ay malapit pa rin ako dahil may nagpapaalala sa akin dito.

Totoo nga ang sabi ng agham. Mahalaga ang init. Mahalaga ang init para maprotektahan natin ang ating katawan mula sa matinding lamig na hindi natin mapipigilan. Mahalaga ang init para mabigyang buhay ang ating mga kalamnan. Mahalaga ang init para maiwasan ang sipon at iba pang sakit. Mahalaga ang init para maiwasan ang sakit na bukod pa sa mga dala ng mikrobyo sa paligid. Mahalaga ang init para maibsan ang sakit ng puso at isip. Mahalaga ang init para mabuhay. Iyan ang mga natutunan ko sa pagbabalik-tanaw sa mga araw ko kasama si Tatay at ang kaniyang lomi ngunit natutunan kong mahalaga rin ang buhay para manatiling mainit ang alab ng puso at kaluluwa kahit sa mga kaluluwang nawala at lumipas na.

[piercingpages]

writer's block

Hindi ganoong kadali sumulat, kumatha, ng isang patok na nobela o kaya drama at makahanap sa paligid ng simpleng tula na may himig na tulad ng matamis na kanta.

Gamit ang mga salita, mahirap magpinta ng mga damdami’t ganoon din ng diwa lalo na kung hindi gamay ang mga salita para ilarawan ang mangha at ang halina.

Minsan ay napapaisip, minsa’y nangangamba kung ang landas na tinatahak ay siyang tama. Hindi napipigilang magkumpara sa iba pag manunulat ay tinatakasan ng paksa.

[piercingpages]

punto de vista

Sa Jeep,

isang tanghali sa abalang lungsod,

sumakay ka dala ang mga tambol na gawa sa lata

na iyong pinatutunog sa ritmong taliwas sa daloy ng trapiko.

Kung gaanong kadalas dumampi ang mga kalyo

ng iyong kamay sa kalawanging tingga,

ay ganoon ring kabilis ang pagbaling sa iyo

ng mga matang mapanghusga.

Sa ilalim ng tirik na araw,

habang naglalakad patungo

sa sunod na trabaho kong susugalan

natanaw kang nakaluhod sa harap ng kainang magara,

mistulang nagdarasal sa Bathala na tinigilan mo nang paniwalaan

magkadaop ang mga palad, naghihintay ng biyaya

mula sa mga katawang tinakasan na ng habag sa kapwa.

Nakasalubong kita.

Muli, pauwi, noong sumapit ang na ang gabi.

Kasabay ng pag-iisip ko tungkol sa pudpod ko nang sapatos

mula sa maghapong pakikipagsapalaran

para lang malamnan ang kumakalam na sikmura ng aking pamilya,

naisip kita.

At kung paanong tayong dalawa ay magkaiba

ngunit kung tutuusin ay pareho lamang.

Pareho lamang na naghahanap ng panlaman ng tiyan,

parehong nagnanais ng isang masisilungan,

parehong nilalamangan nilang may kapangyarihan.

Sa edad na labindalawa, maaga kang nilisan ng kamusmusan

nang maatasang buhayin ang sarili kapalit ng mga payapang gabi

malayo sa gulo at pag-ulan ng mga bala, malayo sa giyera at sa iyong ama’t ina.

Sa edad kong labing-apat, ninakawan ng kabataan

nang palayasin sa lupang itinuring nang tahanan,

Isang demolisyon kapalit ay aming kabuhayan

sa aking mga pangarap naman at kamatayan.

Nakikita kita,

at ang butas-butas mong damit

na siyang panangga sa marahas na gabi.

Kasabay ng paglagak mo sa iyong katawan

sa pirapirasong karton sa kalsada

ay ang pagpatak ng ulan, malupit, walang patawad

sa tulad mong ligaw na kaluluwang walang tiyak na patutunguhan,

walang tiyak na kahahantungan.

Nakita kita at nakikita kita,

ngunit hindi na sapat ang pagtigin lang

sa mga tulad kong kahit paano'y may ginhawang natatamasa,

hindi na ng masama ang tumulong, lumaban

para sa mas maaluwan nating kinabukasan.

[piercingpages]

welcoming committee

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click… Clack.

“Room 36B, this must be it.”

Liz stood panting in front of a door at the corner of a dark hallway. Its knob and peep hole are rusting on the surface of the old jaded wood, reminding her of how the dormitory existed from about 40 years ago before she was even born. She wondered why the management never lit the area properly or why they never replaced the old door that she almost forgot about the suitcases standing beside her. This is it, her new home for the rest of freshman year. She gently knocked on the door as she felt her heart racing against her chest with excitement and nervousness. She knocked again before her new roommate opened up the door for her. At the other side of the door stood a young girl about her age with long raven hair and pale white complexion. Her bloodshot eyes stared blankly at Liz.

“Hi, I-“

“Bottom bunk, that’s you.” The stranger said flatly as Liz struggled to wiggle in her huge bags through the door.

She examined the place and saw scratches on the wall above the worn out couch. She walked to it out of sheer curiosity and THUD! A loud sound of an object falling made her jump. Liz looked around for what it might be but she found nothing. There was nothing on the floor and no one else in room but her. When did my new roommate leave, she thought. With that, the young girl decided to just call it a night.

To Liz, weekdays meant volleyball training. As a student-athlete, the routine wasn’t new to her – get off school by 5, do school works at six, and train from nine until 11. First day of college was relevantly more fun than first day of high school and she was looking forward to train with her new team. After the three-hour training, Liz decided to make her new friends go ahead of her as she went to the dugout comfort room to freshen up.

It was eerie inside and the broken lights above the row of sinks did not help make it less spooky at all. Liz was washing her face when she heard a stall open. It must be the wind, she convinced herself. She carried on with washing her face and drying it before she felt someone standing behind her. She slowly looked up to gaze at herself in the mirror when suddenly, she saw a nun with a huge cut across her neck and a multiple gun shot wounds staring directly at her. She had a huge smile on despite missing one eye. Liz froze. She closed her eyes and started to pray,

“Hail, Mary full of grace, the Lord is with you.” She opened her eyes just to see the nun standing behind move even closer.

Liz started to cry and continued praying, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.”

She wanted to move and run away but she felt as if someone was holding her feet down on the cold tiled-floor. Once again, she opened her eyes only to see that the nun’s face was now beside hers. She was about to open her mouth to continue the prayer when,

“Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners,” the nun recited.

The doors of the stalls flung open, the lights started to go on and off, and the faucets started running while the voice of the nun’s spirit echoed in her ear, “Now, and at the hour of our death,” completing the prayer before bursting out in hysteria.

“Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners,” the ghost repeated angrily.

“Now, and at the hour of our death,” the nun screamed the last line and laughed evilly. Liz fainted.

The other night seems just like a blur to Liz. She always knew things like that could happen. As a child, Liz used to see things from outside this realm on a regular basis, but when her family moved the city and she became a busy teen, she found herself distracted that she rarely pays attention to unearthly beings.

Because of the stress she went through after the other night’s event, Liz decided to meet up with one of her classmates in the park near the school campus to talk. She would have chosen to bond with her new roommate if only she ever catches her at home. She never saw her again since the day she moved in and the only way she can tell she was around is when doors open and close, and lights turn on and off in the middle of the night when she is either half asleep or is too tired to open her eyes.

Moments later, Jess, Liz’s classmate arrived. She was unusually quiet tonight, Liz noticed. The usual Jess would be a ball of energy and would normally be hard to shut up, but tonight she was different. The night is cold and the park is dark, maybe Jess just feels uncomfortable in this place, she reasoned to herself. “Jess, do you want to walk around while we talk until we find a better spot in the park?” Liz asked Jess who hadn’t said a word since she arrived. Once again, Jess just nodded. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz… Buzz. Buzz. Buzz…

Liz reached for her phone and saw a missed call from Jess. “Jess, check your phone. I think something’s wrong because you keep dialing me from your pocket.” Jess did not answer again. Liz continued going through her phone when she received two message notifications from minutes ago. Ting! Ting!

From: Jess Hi, Liz! I’m so sorry to keep you waiting at the park but I’m afraid I can’t make it.

From: Jess Liz, I really want to apologize I stood you up. I had to go back to the province. My dad just had another heart attack. I’m really sorry.

"Jess,” Liz murmured before turning her head towards where Jess sat down.

Shocked and confused were understatement of how she was feeling at the very instance she saw the figure that was Jess turn out to be a teenage girl with a huge wound on her left cheek, extending her creepy smile to her cheek. Liz was shaking beyond terror but she was too disoriented to take her eyes off the girl and the stab wounds on her neck and chest. The girl slowly titled her head and began to laugh in a big echoing voice.

“Do I look like your friend?”

Liz finally found the courage to scream and run away back to her dormitory. It was the fastest sprint she has ever done that what feels like seconds later, she found herself at the front desk.

“Tita Emy, I have an emergency. I think I have to get home as soon as possible.Would you mind telling my roommate at 36B that I won’t be back until next week?” Liz said.

“Roommate? What roommate? No one occupies that room but you, sweetie.”

[piercingpages]

silence on threes

Ding!... Ding!... Ding!

My phone chimed thrice just as I stepped out of my last class for the day. The blue sky I saw before sitting in a room full of tired bodies has already turned into a blanket of orange solace. I rummaged through my bag to find out that you’ve sent me three similar texts to remind me about our plans for tonight. Three times, you texted me out of habit. You always knew how my memory can be so blurry because of my anxiety. You made a promise during our freshman year that you’d remind me of every single thing I needed to remember because according to you, that’s what good friends do. So you developed this weird thing only the two of us knew, where you’d repeat everything to me three times so I wouldn’t have to forget. Rule of Thirds, you said. I’m pretty sure that isn’t how it works but I believed you anyway.

It’s been three years since you made this promise, and you’ve never failed even once. Not until recently when three times you broke your word. As best friends, we had stupid rules just like other friendships do, and we swore upon graduating on time that we’d keep our word for at least until both of us finally escape this hell hole. You broke rule number two, the one where we swore we’d never keep secrets from each other, number six, where we swore to never let anything or anyone change us, and the tenth one where we promised to always stick to our words. Three times you hurt me and I still remember. Thrice is too much but I never held it against you, and maybe that’s why the universe let you graduate on time, unlike me who had to stay for another semester because of my worsening mental health – a truth to me was just a reason I try to convince myself with. But I think I know what the real reason was, and it’s because I broke rule number one, the most important promise, the one where we swore to never fall in love with our best friends.  

If this was an excerpt from one of those pieces I’m supposed to turn in for my writing classes, I’m pretty sure you would already have my face between your hands by now. You would’ve already stared into my eyes in disbelief, while you tell me how much better I am than this. A revolutionary, a revolutionary, a revolutionary – that’s how you described me as a writer, and three times you repeated it because you told me I should never forget that. If you were my professor, this story would’ve gotten a failing grade the moment you read the opening lines. It was a cliché. You always hated clichés. You hated those romance stories that sounded like plots for very bad teen movies, but it is how it is. Our story is nothing but a poorly written script doomed for a tragic ending unless someone finds the courage to flip it. The burden lies on me.

I was so drowned in my own thoughts that I didn’t even realize that you were already standing in front of me with a big grin on your face. You were wearing a problem pattern button-down like you always do, but instead of shorts, you decided to match it with a pair of denim pants today. My heart ached a little. Three years and you’ve never changed. You still looked good even if you wore the most absurd-looking clothes in existence. Three years and nothing’s changed. I still adore you in silence, hoping that somehow you notice to cut me some slack.

“Hey, miss, can I get your number?” You joked, a reference to an event only the two of us knew. 

“No, creeper.” But you can most certainly have my heart, and you don’t even have to ask.

“Why not? When I’m this cute? You’re crazy.” You said, pulling me into a hug. I swear to the heavens if it’s true that people could melt at someone’s touch, I would’ve already been a puddle on your feet by now when you kissed the top of my head.

I pulled myself for your embrace, “You know you didn’t have to come fetch me, right? I understand that you have a lot to prepare for.” I said, almost stuttering. KEEP IT TOGETHER, MEG!

“What do you mean I didn’t have to? I’ve been doing this since freshman year and you decide that I didn’t have to do it just now?” I didn’t answer.

You were right. Every day since we established that we were going to be best friends for life, you wait for me outside the building of my last class for the day. It never really mattered how long ago your class was over, or how far away my class from yours was. You never missed a day even when we had big and serious fights that to my surprise, we always solved by just cracking a joke. After that, we’d eat at our favorite diner where we’d usually cram our homework just hours before the deadline, and the one where we first saw each other cry because of all the pressure that college has brought to our lives. Then, you’d walk me home, and the next day the cycle repeats again.

We started walking to our safe place. The sky is now a sheet of darkness, falling upon the tired souls walking around the campus area. We are just like them, but just like you always say, we seem to never feel tired when we are around each other. We were each other’s comfort blanket. But to me, you are much more than that. I wish you knew how much you mean to me, but maybe you will after tonight. That’s if I ever find the courage to say those words to you.

We finally reached the diner where we usually go to eat every night after class. The same smoke-filled air screamed of memories from the smell of the same chicken fingers we ordered the night before, and the one before that, and the week before, and the weeks before that one, too. The same radio station was blasting through the small speakers, playing the same old songs we love. The same white fairy lights decorated the walls alongside red neon lights, and I looked up at them to examine everything as if I haven’t already memorized every detail of this place, of OUR place. Everything’s exactly the same. Except for us. Well, at least, except for me.

“Meg, are you okay?” you asked, disrupting the thoughts in my head. You looked at me with worried eyes, but their shine never left anyway.

I gave you a reassuring smile, “Yes,” I am not. “I was just thinking about something.” It’s about you and me. About us. You nodded and tried to reach out for my hand rested on the metallic silver table, but I retrieved it before I even felt your touch. You just smiled.

It’s now or never. I need to tell you. “James, I-“ 

“Here’s your order, ma’am, sir!” I was so in my mind that I didn’t even realize that the waitress has arrived with our food. “Thank you,” we said in unison. The waitress’ lips formed into a big smile and said, “Awww, you are such a cute couple!” I wish we were a couple. “Enjoy your meal!” she waved her hand before walking back to her station.

You let out a little laugh, “She said we were a cute couple,” We’d make a great couple. “I bet that’s because I’m cute.” No, you are divine. You rested your face on your hands that were propped up on the table. You caught my weary eyes and started laughing again.

“Stop laughing! And don’t be so full of yourself,” I said, accidentally cracking myself up. 

You started to dig on your food while I stared at you when you spoke again, “It’s nice to hear you laugh again, you know. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you happy like that.” Who said I was happy?

“I know,” I said. Warmth has already left the food in front of me, but I chose to watch you eat instead. No one knows if I’ll ever be with you this way again after tonight.

“Why are you so quiet? It’s so unlike you.”

“Nothing. Maybe I’m just tired.” I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU, JAMES. 

“Come on, Meg. Lighten up a bit! We don’t know when this will happen again after I graduate tomorrow.” I didn’t answer. “Is something bothering you? Was it what you were going to tell me before the waitress came?” Yes, and yes!

I nervously tugged on my skirt under the table. My heart started beating faster and my throat seems to have dried up. I tried to speak, “James, I- I’m... I think I-“ Ding! 

“Who’s that?”

“Greg. He said he’s here already.” Why? Why? Why? Now, how can I tell you?

Not long until Greg appeared from the crowd, wearing his signature white shirt and black sweatpants. He looked so good. Greg was perfect.

“Hey, gorgeous!” he greeted me when he reached our table. He leaned down to kiss my forehead before taking the spot beside you.

“Hi, baby!” you pulled him into a welcoming kiss. “Why didn’t you text me instead?” you said while fixing the stray hair that fell on his face.

“I did. I also tried to call you, but I couldn’t get through.” he wrapped his arms around you. “But I know you’re here with your best friend so I sent her a message instead,” he continued.

“I understand. Look, Meg was just about to tell me a secret so why don’t you go get your order while we talk?” you said and Greg immediately obliged.

“Now, Meg, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

I smiled. “Nevermind, I forgot already.” I didn’t. “It’s nothing.” I lied.

I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Three times I repeated to myself, and I don’t think I will ever forget.