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This is one of my favorite photos of us together — back in our hotel after sightseeing and Don Quijote-ing, looking ridiculous in our ponchos while everyone else on that rainy autumn night in downtown Kyoto looked so sleek with their umbrellas and coats and boots. We told ourselves as we hauled our comically large shopping bags, next time we won’t be looking like actual garbage bags. Next time, we’d be poised and fashionable as those Japanese office ladies. 

We’ve always been so in synch. You inspired me to learn, to wonder, to try to get more out of life. You showed me so many cool things, and we never ran out of stuff to talk about and obsess over. We used to give each other long, stupid letters on rolls of paper used to print receipts, telling each other R’hllor knows what. (Probably me rambling about Jimmy Alapag, what to put in the school paper, and can we please watch A Series of Unfortunate Events in the cinema after the monthly exam next week?) 

 Even when days got lonely and busier as we grew older, I was always comforted by the fact that you were just there. We’d always be amazed by our instincts, our ESP as we called it, how we often already knew what the other was thinking or planning on doing, even if we’re apart. 

Now you’re somewhere I can’t reach you and I don’t even know why I’m writing this. You already know all of it. I know you know how shattered my heart feels right now. I know you know that I’m not sure how I will be on the other side of this disorienting, gut-wrenching grief. I know you know how confused I am now — you’ve always been the one with the ideas and the instructions. I know you know I would give anything to scheme and laugh and explore with you one more time. 

 Just two weeks ago, there was never any doubt in my mind that we’d go on another adventure like this. Many more, over many, many years, until we grow old. Because I know I wouldn’t care if I looked silly or fumbled or second-guessed myself. Because I know I would try anything if I know I would be trying it with you. But there won’t be another next time, and I — and all of us who love you dearly — will try to live with that. 

 I miss you every day.

I dreamt of you

I dreamt of you before I woke up that day. I remembered it the day after, but I was able to see you still clearly. You got up from your work chair, turned around and smiled at me. How much I wish that dream was longer, or that you told me something, or that I was able to tell you something, anything at all. I wish that dream was real, that I had been able to see you in person again, that we got to coop up in your room to talk, sort our stocks, plan and listen to Bastille on loop one last time.

When I got the news, there was not a comprehensible thought in my mind. I broke down, asked Gab questions I knew he did not have the answer to. I blamed myself, blamed everyone else, shouted to high heavens and asked why it had to be you. We were just on a three-way four-hour video call mere days ago. We were waiting for an update to a game you taught me about just two weeks ago. It was too sudden. It couldn’t have been true. It couldn’t have been you.

You were telling us your throat was itchy, but it was probably just your regular flu season sore throat. Then the on-off fever happened. But it’s alright, you got checked and you had the meds. A few days later you began telling us that you’d gotten tired so easily, all the time. But it’s okay, you even had an oxygen tank in your room, just in case, you said. And then your updates became shorter, fewer and farther in between. I didn’t want to bother you, and we were hoping you were just resting and recuperating.

The night before I couldn’t sleep, but it was for the wrong reasons. I couldn’t sleep because I haven’t heard back from you, about something as insignificant as a bank account number. It was earlier in the afternoon when we last exchanged messages. I couldn’t sleep as easily as I normally would, but sleep I did. I heard the news well into the morning the next day. It was a Sunday. Gab was on his laptop, I was on my phone. Carlo told us. My world just stopped.

The magnitude of this grief was something I have not experienced before and I hope I never will again for a long, long time. Please forgive me, forgive us, if we talk about you all the time. If I overshare with others the things we talked to each other about in confidence. Please forgive me if I am still trying to piece together what happened the last few days. Please forgive me if my heart is full of regrets for the things I wish I had done for you. I know how much you didn’t want to bother people. 

I have been told, by well-meaning people, to just accept it and move on. As if it were that easy. As if choosing to “move on” is something you can do just days after one of the most important people in your life dies. Now I know what people mean when they say they want their departed loved ones to “visit” them in their dreams. It is surrendering to sleep and pinning my hopes to see the version of you created by my subconscious. It’s not really you. But it’s all I have now. I still have so much to say.

// 12 September 2021 //

The loss of humanity, a descent to hell

The other night was probably the hardest I've cried in months. I weep for a 14-year old child, whose life has been taken so violently and so hatefully taken from him, from his family. I weep for the likes of him, Reynaldo, and Carl and Kian, whose deaths the state forces have so callously disregarded as "collateral damage" in this myopic and ultimately counter-productive campaign against the poor and the powerless. 

Of course, they'd say it's not against the poor. But in truth it's a fight against an imagined enemy at the expense of real, blood-soaked bodies of marginalized Filipinos summarily executed in the slums and dark alleys every night by the people who have the monopoly of "lawful" violence.

I weep for these kids' futures cut so short and so tragically. I weep for the justice that seems to elude this whole country, the disregard for human rights and due process. I weep for the lack of empathy shown by the majority of this regime's supporters. I weep because of anger, of sadness, of confusion–how did we come to this? I weep for the country's–and the world's–future in the hands of these demagogues.

Someday soon, all of us will be faced with harsh truths and bitter realities. I do not doubt it would be violent and soul-crushing, a rude awakening for these times this country has shut its eyes from the monstrosity that grows and devours, day after day after day.

And the sun will set for you

(Screengrab x)

It's been two days now, but I feel like it's only just sinking in. I can't fathom how the constant voice that echoed the heartaches and confusion of my teenage years can be gone forever. 

Chester's characteristic screams and melodious voice punctuated the songs that gave me solace. As one tribute said, "Linkin Park, and specifically Bennington, kicked in the door to our respective darknesses not to spark a light, but to sit with us for a while." The songs made me feel that it was alright not to be alright just yet, and that negative emotions are just as valid as the positive ones.

I can't imagine my formative years without the "noise" and the "screams" and the "angry lyrics" of Linkin Park. From group presentations to individual school projects (choose a song, make an artwork out of it and explain its significance for you—I did Easier to Run), to CDs we burned and passed around, Linkin Park songs and Chester's voice were my staple.

Even into my young adult years, I have always drifted every now and then to songs of Linkin Park. And while my music preferences over the years have changed, I can never deny the fact that Linkin Park was the first band I truly became a fan of: Meteora being the soundtrack of my high school years, and Hybrid Theory being a constant presence in my childhood even before that. 

As a fan, I only ever knew Chester as a vocal hero, whose rhythms and lyrics reached my core. Chester—and the band—hung out their inner demons to dry through their songs. And for better or worse, us fans lived through ours because of these. It sucks how no one can be there for him, the way his voice was there for us. 

Like the rest of the world, I am heartbroken. But Chester had chosen his battles and he had chosen how to fight them. I hope now that he finds peace, finally, and know that he has indeed left reasons to be missed. 

Hey, 2017

Half the year is almost over, but it seems like it isn't keen to let up on the things. Work has been taxing, current events have been way too taxing, people around me have been quite taxing, my personal endeavors can be quite taxing. I feel like most of the year, I'm anxious about having to do stuff but not having enough time and talent and energy for them.

The first couple of months were spent trying to get into the groove of the new year, writing down plans and making valiant efforts to push through with them. I spent January and February studying for a a notorious post-grad entrance exam (but maybe more on that later this year), trying to incorporate healthier eating in my (and Gabriel's) routine, going out for weekly jogs, and planning and ditching grand schemes. (Hopefully, said scheme will come into fruition early next year, instead of this year. I just have to work harder for it still.)

This year, I have also started with a pen and paper (and washi tapes!) journal/planning system, which seems to be working fine for me, almost six months in. Must be why I don't feel the urge to be on social media (and blog) so much this year. Spending time every day to be mindful of my tasks and my use of time, and then reflecting on the day's events, have indeed helped me stay grounded and sane. Sometimes, when my work pile gets high, I stop everything and just write things down. I get to try new ways of looking at my days, and it's comforting how unrestricted I can be with the system. 

First quarter also had me working on my ~entrepreneurial~ side with Claire. Mostly, it's Claire's idea and our mini project was just a wee investment we undertook to learn how to operate a (very) small, low-risk online business. There were things we didn't think we would encounter starting the project, but eventually, we learned how to work out the kinks and learned how to deal with so many kinds of people. All things considered, I think it's been a good exercise in customer service, marketing, and industry research... Charing! :))

For now, I'm just plodding on through my tasks at work, day after day. I'm also in the process of applying for another post-grad thing. Admittedly, I feel like I've been trying to bite off more than I can chew right now. However, being almost (gasp!) 27, sometimes I feel like I'm already running out of time and I have to do everything right now, or, well, at least get started already. I hope the rest of 2017 will cooperate.

January, February, March, April, May / I'm alive