Saturday, December 31, 2016

My 2016

Miracles happen, and I'm a witness to that.

2016 is my most challenging year by far (if I exclude my spinal operation years back). But even if this year was one gigantic shitstorm, grace can land at the most unexpected of instances. Mine was in the form of a person. It actually took me 23 years of existence, but when I first met this person, I knew she would be the one-- I guess Kodaline was right.

Years back, I was an everyday writer at a certain site (I actually compiled more than a hundred pages!). Note that some of the pieces were done with me being half-drunk, bleary eyed, or being too melodramatic. And what I uncovered at my deep and sappy digital space was a certain piece I decided, with much hesitation and contemplation, to showcase here. I think you'll understand what this story is all about and I hope you get to enjoy it as much as I did.

And to you, Arnie, I love you with all my imperfections. May your heart always create miracles like how your passion lets me fervently pick up the pen and write beautiful things. You are and will always 2016.

Turning Pages 

I wore my dad’s old shirt when I opened the door for the first time. I looked at everyone with eager and nervous eyes as they played their smiles toward my way; each one with their specific greetings as I gave a stiff and plastic wave. And there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. You looked at me for the first time and I looked at you, and as if an old story book brushed off its dust, it began to flip the renewed pages. A tale slowly unfolds; two souls, one instance.  But I left the room without a memory. Significance takes its time as I counted my steps home. It was not yet time. No, not yet.

 It was someone’s birthday when I saw you again. It’s already been weeks since I introduced myself to the place I now come to every day. Food on the table and hungry fellows to match, the place reeked of enthusiasm. I grab a plate and I sit on the side. I abuse the water as I try to pretend that I’m full. A door opens and there you were again, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. I hear your voice as you laugh that deep and playful laugh. I wince twice as you strike a conversation. Short-lived and playing on roulette, we part ways. A memory stays, but just one.

It was nearing Christmas. The everyday place turns to a new place, but just for one day. People dressed in fancy clothes and smelled of expensive perfume. Everything was dazzling in white as the people danced and jived until the dead of night. A bottle of beer appears in front of me, and there you were, wearing fine white clothes and bangs to match. I turn down the temptation as I fake a personality. The place closed but not for the people. A new place was found yet I decided to head home. A memory stays, but just two.

As always, I take my usual route home. I'm familiar with the place I come to every day. I have met some that take the same route as me. I wait for them near a glass door. But that Monday night, I decided to wait outside. The night was cold and full of mystery as I count the stars like how I counted the stair steps. A voice sounds and there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. You take me to a new place and words swim us to loneliness and questions. Lips brush my cheeks as my thoughts turn to scary premonitions. I leave the place, disgusted. A memory stays, but just three.

 It was on the 20th when life began to gamble. The place I now come to every day has become significant. I climb the stairs of a certain place and there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. Familiarity breeds comfort as you lean on my shoulders. The old familiar book slowly turns the pages and the universe plots its clever ploy. The air is humid with hesitation and you look at me and I look at you. Lips planted on mine. I count the stars and ask: will it be alright? A memory stays, and now it was four.

It was on the 3rd when days of willing suspension were coming to a close. Feelings have emerged and a decision remains. I muster up the courage and ask you out. We go to a spot where the place’s second word resonates a personal dream. We order coffee and we sit together. And there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. I tell you things– as my heart skips five beats– things that made you feel something. For a moment, the universe shifts our way. We drink in the night and hope for something in the unknown. A memory stays, and now it was five.

It was the end of another year again. The place I go to every day holds an annual meeting. We were getting somewhere— two souls finding the in-betweens. Days of peace and days of anxiousness have passed and moments of tenderness cling to hope. I climb the stairs and there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. I look at you and you look at me. But darkness engulfs me as the demons and dubiousness come. People talk and you talk with them. The past bites like a hungry wolf.  I look at your face, but you don’t look at mine. Maybe it was all a mistake after all....A memory stays, but subtracts to none.

It was has been exactly one month since demons came. We talk for hours now and we hold hands. You still get shy when I stare at you. I know when you’re hiding something and you know when I’m tired. But you were always there, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. I respond through smiles toward your life’s different lenses. I met your loved ones and you’ve met mine. We go on dates and perchance upon dreams. On a certain night, infinity lands gracefully on our soul.

I’ve silenced the darkness, and somehow, a light follows.
I take you home and we say our goodbyes. A memory stays, and it’s been more than ten.

We meet somewhere near your place. I was shaking from fatigue yet I managed to arrive no later than eight. I climbed and there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. You smiled your familiar smile. But I get drunk and I spill my horrors. I am unworthy I told you. Insecurities and frustrations eating up my cranium. We leave the place full of fear and full of worry. I promised you I’d go home so I did. I was the writer in our relationship, but this time, you were the one who wrote. A memory stays, and it’s been more than I could count.

We’ve been doing it for a while now but you still get knee-weak when I ask you out. There are days of struggles and days of frustrations but we still celebrate each moment as we trace our fingertips around each other. Life partner...that's what we call ourselves. I leave the place I go to every day, and there you were, wearing fine clothes and bangs to match. You smile your silly familiar smile and we hold hands. I stare at you as I secretly wish for time to wane more slowly. A memory stays, and It's always going to be like this.

It feels like it’s been so long yet it has been just a few months. The old familiar book is dusted off and the pages turn in accordance to fate: Two souls, one instance. The unfamiliarity of tomorrow is still unnerving and the promises shared will be put to the test. But I will take the pen and I will dab the ink on the turning pages like the writer that I am. Even when the last page has been turned, the purpose to continue the amazing journey will never cease.

There is no such this as a book ending. After all, you can write on other things aside from paper.


"To Arnie, I write because you exist."
Happy 2017, everyone!