Teacher

(Disclaimer: This was written in 2007 while I was still a student of CLSU. I exhumed it from my old journal thinking that it would pay tribute to this very special day for Teachers (me included). So, please pardon the grammatical errors. This was 5 years ago and from a different world. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK :))*******

I was simply dozing off the remaining hours of my boring day when suddenly I was fantasizing about my future, or things like what-will-be’s instead of clinging to what-might-have-been’s.

In a moment of honest desperation to get a feeble grip on reality that was my life, I was suddenly and unexpectedly sorting out plans for my professional career and on the things that I will do at least after I get away with a college diploma—things that I never usually do.

Well, perhaps reality already sunk in into my already numb mind. It’s a good thing that at least, despite the careless and carefree me who is just about to become the next king-of-nothing-to-do, I still know (barely) what reality is from fiction—although at times I may get to interchange one from the other, really.

Alright, I was thinking about giving myself a career in the academe—schools and teaching, those stuffs. Well, that was not a bit of a surprise for me that came out of nowhere because I had already planned that even before. I wrote about that one time and even published the article on our school paper of which I lead, not that I don’t regret publishing it. Now, there were more or less two thousand CLSU students who know that despite I chose a field in Social Sciences, I may not give proper justice to it because I may end up probably in teaching anyway.

Not that a student who graduate with AB Social Sciences degree cannot teach, or doesn’t have a right to teach. Besides, I always thought, and will always think, that my degree is really flexible. With my degree, I could choose from a wide range of work and could enter many career paths and be able to walk through them confidently and end up a sure success. Well, they might say that my field is a no-earning course and that it can’t give me much penny to count, and sure they could be right. But what about earning compared to the vast learning you could acquire. And I daresay that while my field may offer little earning, it could offer countless learning that could equal even the most lucrative paying job.

That was what my field is. That was what I chose. There was no regret in that.
And for sure, I could never regret being in the academe and be a teacher. In fact, I already saw myself as an educator, never really the office-type kind, but the one who is responsible for shaping up lives and nurturing dreams and encouraging better ideals...to teach students the value of learning, and education, to provide a learning environment that could pass through the four walls of the classroom…

Yeah, that is how I see myself. It may have been delayed to see through that different side of things but surely I could not think of any other way to spend my time with. I believe that is a perfect way to inspire lives, to influence young people who could influence other people in the future when their time comes…and if I would succeed in that, it would be a constant cycle that would be passed on from time to time, and yes, what better way to have success in this life when you realize that you made an impact on someone else’s even if they don’t have a chance to acknowledge you behind it.

I could tell it because there are people who have made an impact on my life as well. People who are simple and ordinary yet they stand in the highest platform that could impact and even change communities and even the world.

I always owe to these people my appreciation because in one great way or another, they have made me to be what I am now. That is what I call influence. They may not have influenced me to become the best, but they have succeeded in changing a lot of my perspectives. That would always count.

"LEGENDS"

Two of the names which could easily surface when I think of “great” people were two of my former teachers in CLSU—and I daresay, the two of the best teachers in CLSU.

They are Professor Ben G. Domingo Jr., much known by the students as “Tatay Ben”; and Sir Michael Carlo Abella, or better known as Sir Ponti.

Theirs will be the name I would always attach the word “teacher”, in the most precise definition of the word. I picked them out of the ordinary because they possess such an extraordinary perspective when it comes to educating students.

Sir Ben (I was not used to call him Tatay Ben because we were not that actually close like his students in Dev.Com) , was once my teacher in Public Speaking and Argumentation and Debate. He's from the Department of English and Humanities, and teaches almost every English subject.

The best thing about Sir Ben is that he never easily gives up on his students. You can call a student mediocre, but Sir Ben sees the potential behind that mediocrity. He always encouraged us in class to be better than what we are, and challenged us to exceed our limitations and to "think out of the box".

I learned from him that nothing can stop you if you are willing to firmly stand on your principles and on what you believe in. He considers courage and daring to be the key to making yourself the best person you could ever become.

There were so many things I learned from his lectures, which not only focused on the lessons on textbooks, but also on necessary lessons about life. He oftentimes point to his experiences in life as his greatest lessons, and true to him, experience is the best teacher.

Because of him, I came to regret once that I did not pursue Development Communication so that he could be my teacher for many subjects and not just one.
But with what I learned from him, I came to love my course and see it in a more profound way.

Meanwhile, like Prof Ben, Sir Ponti was one of the teachers I dreamed of having in class. As a teacher, he was oftentimes seen as a funny, and one possessing a jolly personality that was easily loved by people. He also has a free spirit that is very contagious if one would really read between his lips.

Sir Ponti was my teacher during the previous semester for our last Philosophy subject in our curriculum, which is Philosophy of Man. My perception of his ‘greatness’ as a teacher was actually just established by the stories of his former students, most especially from the SokSay community. I had the notion that these stories were just myths and exaggerations. Not until he became my teacher last semester that I realized he was more than the mythical figure I heard, more than what legends have told in their stories.

To my opinion, he was some sort of an exciting adventure during lecture hours, in which, as you go along with his life stories you would discover for yourselves hidden treasures that was knowledge and learning.

He was a good story teller, yet what he says are not mere stories but knowledge itself. Not only knowledge about the lessons, but, like what Sir Ben reveals, knowledge about the world beyond the four walls of the classroom.

Like Prof Ben, he encourages students to be involved in things that could make them more productive and useful to the society. Sir Ponti is an advocate of extra-curricular learning: learning things outside the classroom, learning lessons under the sun. These things taught me that the best lessons of life one could learn are the lessons obtained by being with people in different walks of life. Sometimes, these lessons appear to be unrewarding at first glance, yet as you give them a place in your heart, they could be magical.

One of the best things Sir Ponti said, and one that I will remember, goes like this: “Just work hard and do your best…never mind what the world says at you. Do what makes you happy…and eventually, time will come that the world will see how greatness is made and achieved…”

With that, I am reminded that greatness was never given at birth, not for only a few individuals. More often than not, greatness is to be achieved, and most of the time, it is achieved through the respect and appreciation from the people whose lives you have touched….and changed.

And I say that Sir Ben and Sir Ponti, in more than a way or another, have touched, inspired, and changed my perspectives, and challenged me to become bigger and better than I am.

That made them to be greater than what they could ever imagine. They are larger than life. They are living legends. ©

This side of paradise

Here I am in my favorite spot of the house. The smell of instant coffee and the birds singing outside while they take refuge in low-lying branches of trees and railings gives me the idea that I'm still here--alive and ready to face another day.

The sun is gradually rising over the horizon; its rays illuminating the earthly splendor of the Lingap Kalikasan Park, our home since we relocated here more than a month now. And I like it here: the stillness of the place, the imposing environment, its cobbled roads. I like the smell of the air in the morning, while dew still covers an endless carpet of grass lawns. I like the sound of mahohany leaves ruffling in the breeze, just as if a storm is on the way.

Everyday here is like waking up in paradise. I like myself here.

Twilight Song

Worlds crept in

         With its colors and shades

    Past beyond the abysmal

          day that is bludgeoned with

                             life’s greatest mystery…

as the sun agonized over

            the last streams of light

        it hides behind the hills

                  and mountains cover,

its pale shade just over the horizon

             unperturbed yet wishing

                     that though there was an appointed time

                                      in this cycle called life

         it would see through yet another day and

                     that in some part of this vast universe

          its lights would eternally shine

                                  unbothered by horizons or cloud covers…

and when darkness shroud the skies

                            hope shall never falter or strength fail

               for just beyond the darkness of the night

                    the light will just be waiting

                                       and another tomorrow shall begin…

*As far as I can remember, this is the last poem I wrote since I shifted to technical writing due to the required paper load in the academe which made me adapt to its demands and style. I almost forgotten the creative genre as a result. When I became a student journalist, I really rooted for the literary editorship. It never happened. I became the editor-in-chief instead. Very fair exchange. Five years later and now in the process of reclaiming old passion and dreams, I intend to go back to the way it should be for me. And I hope IT IS now:)

Winds of Change

(Since "throwbacks" are trending in social networking sites these days and I have been busy digging up files on my computer, I thought it will not hurt if I throw in my share. This one is an opinion article I wrote for the CLSU Collegian, the student publication and the organization which consumed all my childish frustrations and dreams of becoming a writer. It is on its original version. Man, I miss the olden times...)

Four years and seven semesters ago, I identified myself as someone who would be doing great in the university. I saw myself as someone who would be enjoying every opportunity of being in college, of having the chance to learn from this renowned institution. I saw myself as someone who would be fulfilling every expectations that I brought in my luggage when I left home to earn what other people consider to be a vital survival kit in this dog-eat-dog world—a college diploma.

It is still vivid in my reminiscences what I want to achieve, what I am going to pursue, and on what path I would be walking through—a path that would lead me to fulfillment, and what else but a chance to have that happy and contented life I think of?

In going to this university, not by chance but by my own choice, I knew I would never get nearer to my dreams if I still look for somewhere else. Of course, there are better universities out there but I simply realize then, that I did exactly the right choice. I need not to weigh my fate or destiny (if indeed there are such, but I believe in them) with the mistakes I fear am going to make if I fail, but on the choices I would be regretting eventually if I would not consider them. Thus, I chose to be here.

It would be great for me if I did pursue my only chosen course I put in my application form when I applied to this university a few years back. There was no turning back for me then. I was in second year high school when I'd obsessively fix my eyes to an imaginary sheet of paper called diploma with the degree I once craved for to have scribbled in it—Bachelor of Science in Biology. I was totally excited to get out of high school and grab the piece of cake reserved for me in college.

That was how I met my first family here in the university—the S-1. I almost said I would never find any other like them because it was ideal for me to have such wonderful people no matter how diverse we've been in a lot of ways: in culture, upbringing, ideas, passions, and even religion. But who cares with the differences and diversities of people and beliefs? We all are different in a lot of ways but we still co-exist despite of it. 

Differences, I learned, is a tangible phenomenon we may likely to experience given the fact that we are not all living the same lives; that we are not walking on the same feet. Nevertheless, it could be overshadowed if only we acknowledge that after all, we were sharing a common ground. That is ideal, I suppose, but I think we need not be an intelligent individual to understand what common ground that is.

Although I can say I did good during those first two semesters in a science bloc (and enjoyed it), I was really left in a collision between what I wanted before and what I want this time. The winds of change had swept me from my decision to pursue my intended course to choosing another that perhaps only time and destiny could judge if I did chose the right path. Would I be willing to spend my life in the laboratory? Could I really be experiencing life and what could fulfill me by just peering into a microscope, scrutinizing an apathetic organism? I believed that was the most exciting thing to pursue because I loved doing that, and as I said, I was dying hard to grab that opportunity. But never did I imagine that I would really be sacrificing that dream; never did I realize that I could actually give up what I loved to do, in exchange to what I really want to become.

Thus, by a sudden twist of fate, I ended up with my present course in field of Social Sciences. I cannot anymore recount how I came up with my course, but sure, I can remember my reasons for doing such. I think it would take much time for people to understand them, but it would be mine to go on with my convictions.

I supposed to have learned so many things by now. Yeah, right, after living in this university—which I would always consider a home—for almost four years now, I was supposed to be what I intended to be by this time; or nearer to it, at least.

Only time knows how much fulfillment I already had during these years; and how much frustrations I already encountered, and perhaps, survived. If destiny would still allow me to look back to it when the time comes that I could no longer remember them, then I would be grateful that I did just what I wanted to do.

I am not saying this because I’m already leaving this university for good. I am saying this because, perhaps, I would be staying in this university a little while longer than I was expected to. Yes, and for whatever reasons, I might not finish my course exactly at the intended time, but I am sure, it will be at the right time.

Someone said that we live in a constant struggle with change. I agree with it because I believe that as human beings, we do not always want to be stuck up in a corner and just wonder why.

I know I still have to go far to realize everything I have dreamed of—but not too far.

I am only grateful for the fact that there are people out there who continue to forge my belief.

I am grateful for the fact that not all people are apathetic and closed-minded.

I am grateful for the fact that not all people break you; there are people who are willing to build you up.

I am most grateful for the fact that when I can no longer endure the hardest of the most hard, there are people who selflessly reach out a hand to carry me.

Lastly, I will always be grateful that the way things have been, do not necessarily mean that's the way they will always be.

I dare myself daily

I was browsing my files on my vintage laptop earlier when I opened a long forgotten draft of an autobiography I wrote during college days--those turbulent times when I was still consumed by the dream of making writing as a profession. Though later on it was my own arrogance and pragmatism that made me abandon such a reckless idea.

Well, the reason I wasn't able to get past chapter one of my autobiography is not so much due to the absence of motivation to write nor the lack of significant stories worth telling, but primarily because of the thought that I was yet too young to write my life story; that there are still so many things that are bound to happen, and that if I attempt to write one now, it would be utterly incomplete.

But then this thought awestruck me: I AM WRITING MY LIFE STORY EVERY SINGLE DAY. I am filling the pages of my life in my daily encounter with people of different walks of life, learning from them hope and desperation, determination and helplessness, love and apathy, struggles and passions...all of it makes LIFE a worthwhile journey.

I know I still need to go a long way. There are roads not yet taken, and when there isn't one to walk through, I will create one. I will consume each mileage like a hungry child wanting to be filled. I will savor each journey and will not forget the lessons learned. I will not only finish it, but will enjoy the race that is set before me. And when, at the end of the road, it is time for me to go...I will look back along the way and will be satisfied with the thought that my life story is full and complete.

"It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare. It is because we do not dare that things are difficult." -Seneca

Here's to the Rain

The heavy pounding of rain on the corrugated metal roof of our house literally woke me up from my senses. For a moment, the grogginess I felt inside wasn’t able to comprehend the exact mayhem around me—feeling disoriented about the space and time I am currently in. If it’s not other-worldly then what is?

Nah! Was it just me or the tangible coldness gradually building up in the atmosphere as humidity fills the air? Was it the thought of being alone in the house, lying on my bed on a Saturday afternoon, and wasting away precious time, which made me apprehensive of my own temporal existence?

Earlier this morning, I tried to jam-pack my weekend to-do lists by trying to accomplish them simultaneously, but all at the same time. Read: IMPOSSIBLE. And since it seemed like I have mastered the craft of procrastination then I have to endure its bitter consequence, chief of them disorienting my cerebral cortex—or whatever is left of it.

I was trying to get a grip on myself as I was preparing for a message that I will deliver tomorrow in the Youth service. The topic is about wisdom and I still can’t figure out why I was so eager to preach it when in fact I’m the one person on earth who really, really needs it. Well, that’s not modesty; I’m just plain honest to myself. But isn’t it the thirsty ones who know where to look for water to drink? Isn’t it the hungry ones who basically find the food? Isn’t it the needy for answers and reason that finds them in the end? Well, these thoughts really make me feel uneasy.

By lunch time, still no one is at home but me. With my sermon outline still unfinished and having no available food to eat, I decided to devour a book—a habit I gotten used to when I need someone around but finds none. Books are a constant companion for me, especially when I need a breather, when I need escape.

This one I’m currently reading is really about writing though. It is a Christian literature written by the author of the bestselling Left Behind series, Jerry Jenkins. I picked it up yesterday in the random shelves of Booksale and thought that it might help since I am also in the process of rethinking my life. Trying to find significance (oh please, here we go again!). Yeah, I’m not still giving up my dream of becoming a writer and journalist; but for the meantime let me have the time of my life writing contents for blogs and pseudo-blogs: stringing words that no one really care about, trying to pretend somebody in the vast universe is reading them and making them wonder what’s all these crap all about? Who knows, I might be sending a message to some cosmic intelligence out there, and might be able to prevent a flurry of chaos on earth. Haha. I’m sorry, but I’m not really into fiction. Although sometimes, my life is.

I planned to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed after falling asleep while watching a lecture on globalization and foreign policy on my cellphone. These lectures, as I learned in the great halls of the graduate school, are truly very useful. They have this distinct downing effect that allows me to get the benefit of a good night’s sleep.
 

And then the rain came.

Splattering with all its might, knocking off my sweet dreams and disturbing my hibernation. I went outside to witness the transformation of the scene around me. It was half past two in the afternoon and the sun was missing. Dark clouds still heavy with rain hover above the rows of mahogany trees and acacia trees of Lingap Kalikasan Park, our place of comfort, my place of sanity.

The chilled air and the smell of freshly wet earth reminds me of a childhood in a barrio in my beloved Pangasinan: half-naked and barefooted, I would scamper around the neighborhood with other kids; relishing the moment of freedom that the rain has given. With raindrops pounding on our bodies, we ran and ran in the green fields and mud fields, doing somersaults on wet haystacks, plunging into irrigation canals and mocking one another while savoring pure bliss on our paper boat races.

This was our moment. And we own the world with our laughter and childish fascinations.

But man, enough with the reminiscences! I still have a sermon to finish, a book to digest, and piles of student papers to check. But the rain was so inviting. I always like to claim that water is my element although I never really liked swimming. Especially rain, there’s something in it that fascinates me. The way it transforms the surroundings, the way it gives life to something that needs it.

The child in me tells me something. Forget the sermon outline for the meantime, forget the book, forget the things that bother, and jump in the rain.

And I did. And all the world again was mine.

The prodigal Warrior returns

I'm currently under the process of re-thinking my life as part of my moving-on phase and transitions. A whole lot has happened recently and I lost track of time...and myself. This is the closest I can come in re-evaluating my life with as much honesty as possible.

I have messed-up things in my life. I have lost people valuable to me. I have damaged my purpose and destiny beyond recognition. I have fallen from grace and; and so terrible was the impact that it left me with a lot of questions.

But I am searching for them. I will seek for answers and will find them. I will see order in the midst of chaos; I will find peace amidst the anarchy and confusion around me; I will envision although the world is in the abyss of darkness.

I am left with nothing but to fight. And this is the celebration of the fighter within me...the warrior who refuses to accept defeat. The warrior who chooses sacrifice over personal comfort.

I am a warrior. I am a conqueror.

And with my King in the midst of the battlefield, I will finish strong.

I am victorious!

Transitions

More than three weeks ago, we bid goodbye to our home for two years in the UNDP St. CLSU, and moved in to a new house at the university’s outskirts in Lingap Kalikasan Park.

The change was rather unanticipated. Carlo, my ever reliable and loyal BFF (insert smiley here, please) gave the idea of moving out when his boss at the company and our Cell Leader, Kuya James, offered their new CLSU house for boarders. Thinking that it would be a great idea to start the coming semester, and that it would better complement my current season of personal transitions (alam na!), I decided to join. No, I actually insisted on this.

All the King's men fixing and preparing their new lair. Lol.

So for the next several days, me and Carlo, together with the rest of the former Joshua Generation guys (we now call ourselves Gideon men, haha, nag-mature konti) Jhonder and Jed, who also decided to join the bandwagon and spend their remaining semesters with us and in a new home, kept ourselves busy preparing the house for immediate relocation. In between office work and enrollment procedures, we did painting jobs, carpentry, interior designing, plumbing, excavating, and exorcism. No, the last thing was a joke.

I don’t know what made me decide to leave the comfort of our home in UNDP street and move into the far-away jungle called “Little Baguio” or Lingap—the name of which CLSU students have given horrible connotations. Of course if you’ve been with CLSU long enough then you’re already familiar with tales of ghosts and walking dead haunting the area; and stories of students and sweethearts “making it out” under the mahogany trees during the stillness and coldness of the night.

Oh no, I didn’t moved in for the sake of the adventure of haunting people—or ghosts—just for the fun of it. I don’t pry (usually) into people’s businesses, and I’m old enough to still be scared and fascinated by ghosts. A walking dead is an entirely different matter though. LOL.

Well, aside from deciding to move out because it seems that I just can’t live without Carlo around me (hahaha!), personally there’s something more to that. See, I am the type of person who seems to have that deep aversion to change. I admit that no matter how I’ve been oriented to changes—the political and the social—the personal and the emotional is what demotivates me. It is paralyzing when there’s a sudden change and I don’t have the necessary strength or will to adjust. And it is very ironic that while I lecture my students the necessity of change in the society, here I am indulging myself in hypocrisy, and wishing that change is not a reality for me. But then again, when you can’t negotiate with reality no matter how harsh it could be, you go with its flow. You have to adapt. You have to accept.

And that’s what led me to this new place, new home, new chapter…all waiting for me to fill with memories, and to write with different stories. Much different, or maybe far better than the one we left behind.

Transitions.

I have been fascinated by this word recently when I have come face to face with the reality of temporariness of all things; that things do not last. Chief of them food and drinks. Haha.

Seriously though, nothing is ever permanent in this world as you’ve heard a thousand times. Not a name, or a career; not even friendship, or a relationship, or romantic love (Hashtag ohyeahbaby!). Why, life itself is temporary! It is ephemeral and there’s no denying that. And while we are still alive and breathing, we will constantly be surrounded by transitions whether we break down and howl. Life is a constant shift of moving out and moving in.

I’m currently in that season of transition, and whether I like it or not, I have to accept that as a tangible reality. Well, someone very important to me moved out just recently. I don’t know if she’s moved out of my life permanently or she’s coming back someday—all I know is that I have to move out as well. All I know is that I have to embrace this transition as a friend and never allow it to suffocate me or derail my future. All I know is that I have to accept this and move on. Oh men, that’s the proper word for it, right? Hashtag MoveOn:)

I mean, we all have to move on, or at least move. Because the last time I checked, the man who can’t be moved…is either a statue…or a dead man. LOL! Galaw galaw din kasi pag may time!

One day soon, I will look back on these transitions with a happy face. I will be grateful for the lesson of change for through them I was able to grow and mature. Someone told me that looking back will be more fun after each heartbreaking change. That after the season of moving on, you’ll be more capable of understanding and appreciating every little actions of God in your life. I agree to that. Because I believe that in every transition in my life, the God I know is the constant variable making things happen in their perfect time, and with the perfect reason. The God who promised that He will never change—that He is immutable—understands every change that I face and He knows that they are necessary for my existence. And I’m on the way of appreciating that.

P.S.: the house is almost done. Konting ayos pa at magiging bahay na. Sabi ni Carlo lalo daw akong magi-emo kasi napakasenti ng lugar. I mean the solitude and the peace; the rustle of trees and the birds and the crickets and the frogs: they serve as 24/7 musical ensemble. Well, either that “emo” thing, or this: that this is an opportunity to reflect on the fundamental realities of life and reframe myself back into the larger picture. Weh?

I remember Henry David Thoreau when he went into self-exile with nature in order to understand life in a deeper and more profound way. After that season of personal introspection, Thoreau gave the world his now great classic, “Walden”. Hindi kaya maging transcendentalist o existentialist din ako nito? Haha. Wala lang.

Well, transitions. Hashtags on that!

Diary Entry 06.01.2013

Today, you brought her to the airport. There’s no denying the fact that you want to go back in time and eliminate all events and chances that led you here today. There’s no denying the reality that after this day, everything will return to their normal state: obscure, empty, and lacking sense. And when all you can do is hope that someday, in some other time and place everything will fall perfectly in the puzzle, you will wait. You will constantly count each passing moments, watching seconds turn into minutes, and minutes into hours, and hours into days, and days into years. And when all this is over, you’ll see whether everything you hoped for will come true, or will it just be another fragment of the broken puzzle you have tried to fix but wasn’t able to.

You’ve tried to put up a fighting stance to show the world that you can survive this. You really made up your mind that you are able to survive this on your own. You convinced the people closest to you—those who know the battle you are facing—that everything is under your control. You pretended that you are strong, that you are invincible, and that you are capable of coming through this unscathed and whole. But I know you very well; warts and all. I know how you suppressed the pain of trying to hold on to a broken piece. I know how hard you tried to escape all these, if only you can. I have felt the hurt stabbing you to the core of your being…leaving you defenseless and devastated.

I saw your feeble attempts to reach out to her even up to the last moments you are together. You were there with her family which you came to love and wish you’d still be a part of, and you sort of don’t like the idea that they are watching your mushy moments turn into a full-scale catastrophe (that’s an exaggeration, right?). And so you talked to her expectantly the night before her departure, wishing it would be a moment that both of you will look back with anticipation when the years were up. You told her you just want to make things clear for both of you, to have a serious decision about what to expect and how things should go along in the years that you will be apart from each other. You tried to convince her that everything will go well for both of you, if only the two of you will hold on, to look into the same direction, to wait and patiently wait for each other. You sincerely reassured her that you’ll keep on waiting, that distance is really irrelevant, and though time is a matter of fact, it won’t change how you feel for her. You promised that your love for her will be there every waking up and lying down.

And out of your desperate attempt to claim her confidence, you vowed to make the necessary changes she wanted to see in you. You promise her that you’ll take the time you are apart to improve yourself in all aspects, to develop your career, to establish a decent living and to work really hard…so that when she returns, she’ll be more proud of you…and you’ll be more capable and mature to handle your lives together.

But in the end, you felt so down. You felt so defeated. And by begging her to stay—or at least her feelings for you to remain, if there was any—you rendered yourself vulnerable. You were torn down to pieces when the reply came the way you least expected and never wished.

She said she doesn’t really know. She told you three years is a long time and it will be hard for both of you to live by expectations. Especially for you. She wants you to live your life unbounded by these unsure expectations. But at least I will wait until you come back, you said. We will see...when three years is over, san nen kan ato, she replied. But for the moment let time and space work its own way. Bahala na. If it’s meant to be, then it will be. You want to believe her. You’re dying for one, clear answer. Just one. Preferably a yes. At least one, solid answer. It’s confusing. You told her no matter what happens you’ll keep on waiting. She said she can’t make a promise. We will just go with the flow, she told you. You sensed fear in that.

But then you realize she was such a strong woman. You’ve known her to be an independent and daring and self-actualized person. She said she wants the three-year time and thousands of miles of distance to think about her life and reframe her self back into the picture. And you can’t blame her. You were there in each of her serious battles, and you were there when you almost lost her groping in the shadows of human frailty. And when she tried to convince you that you don’t deserve her anymore—that both of you doesn’t deserve each other anymore—you kept a blind eye, and using all the strength you can summon, you tried to hold on…just a little bit more…just one shot at hope which rendered itself so elusive.

You hardly slept that final night at the agency. You saw her family sleeping and you realized it’s harder for them to let her go. So much more painful. You convinced yourself that it will be fine. You cried yourself to sleep with the hope that the following morning will tell of a different story.

But it didn’t. And although you have already prepared for the worst; although you already spent all tears the last night and promised that you won’t cry anymore when “goodbyes” and “take care” were said and done, you still felt so heavy and your heart swollen…ready to break once more. And being the perpetual stubborn that you are, you repeated your script from last night hoping that it will mean differently today. You don’t easily surrender, do you, Mr. Hard-head? So you tell her again how much she means to you and that no matter what, it will never, never change. She managed to smile; you want to take that as an assurance, but not really.

And when she went beside you, leaned closer to you, laid her arm on your shoulder and kissed you one last time, you suppressed the heavy emotions from showing off. You almost managed to. But when she told you that “it’s going to be okay…everything’s gonna be fine”, you just can’t hold it anymore. Your heart cried out, and your tear-ducts gave in. And all you can say with your voice breaking was: “mag-iingat ka dun ha? Alagaan mo lagi yang sarili mo…” So you convince yourself that after all, everything’s gonna be fine.

But not today. It’s not going to be okay. Maybe someday, tomorrow or next year…or the following year, or the year after that. Maybe someday when time has worked its magic once more. When time begins its healing process. But definitely not today.

Because today, she’s leaving. Today, a great part of you will go with her, and it may leave a gaping hole in your heart that may be hard to fill in. Because all those times you shared together won’t just easily go away. The memories you both created and the plans you built together will take much time to forget. Remember what you said before? That the first girl you’ll court is the one you’ll marry? Yeah, I know you expected so much from this, and you really worked hard to make it all work. I know you loved her like nobody has ever loved anybody before. And she loved you as well. You two promised each other never to let go. But then, love is a mystery. You can never really predict what’s gonna happen next. And now you are bracing yourself for the unexpected, trying to face the reality that after all, things might go against your plans. You’re now face to face with the unknown.

But then, you are a warrior. Don’t you ever forget that. I still believe in that part of you: fighter, stubborn, and hard-headed—in a positive way. Just like before, you will pick yourself up, and show the world and the people around you that you can. That indeed, this is just another piece for that grand and lofty masterpiece that your King has prepared for you. Won't you give Him all the broken pieces now and allow Him to do the mending? Won’t you return now, Warrior Prince?

And by the way, happy 15th monthsary. For me, it’s been a wonderful 1 year and 3 months with you.Arigato Gozaimasu. Sayonara.

Goodbye, my beautiful distraction…