Clingy Kenny | Moody Annie
Paggigising ko pa lang, napakasama na ng pakiramdam ko. Super sakit ng ulo ko. Migraine. Eh ang OA ko pag minamigraine, naglelead sa lagnat na pamatay. Pinag-aalaga ako kaagad ng baby non. And these things welcomed me this day. After lunch, umalis ako. Inintay ko siya sa Petron sa Tejero, napakainet non pre. Naghiwalay kami sa FYI. Usapan, magkikita na lang uli mamaya. So I went to Uwit’s house. Nagtagal ako dun. Mga ilang oras din. 4:30 umalis na ko. Mukhang nag-aadik pa yung driver ng tric na nasakyan ko. Usapan namin magkikita kami sa Gentea. Nandon kase tropa. So sureness, why not diba. Dun ako dumiretso. Nagtricycle ako. Pagdating ko ng Gentea, pahiya ako. Kase walang tao. Dire-diretso pa man din ako maglakad. Lumabas na lang ako, pumunta ako sa comp shop na katabi ng Gentea. Nandon sila. Puno nila shop. Di ko tinawag. Sinitsitan ko lang habang nakadungaw ako sa pinto. Tinignan muna ko ng iba, saka niya napansing nandon ako. Nakatingin lang. Edi ako na nagsalita. Sabi ko, punta muna ako school. Shems. Usapan namin, sasamahan niya ako. Kukuha kaya ako ng libro sa locker. Dami non. E naglalaro. Di nasagot. Nakatingin lang. Sabi ko, ako na lang. Sabi niya, bumalik na lang daw ako. Aba. Sagot ko, sayang pamasahe. Pero mahinahon naman ako at tama naman ang point ko. Duh. Matipid/kuripot akong tao, alam ng lahat yan. Tapos wala siyang response. Tinanguan ko na lang. Tapos sinarado ko pinto. Edi lakad lakad. Straight face lang ako. I don’t actually know what to feel. Hinayaan ko na lang. Di naman ako nagdrama. Eh shet wala ako masakyan sa labas ng Gentea. Naglakad ako, may baliw. Tae, di ko alam, basta sumuot ako kung saan hanggang sa makarating sa 96. Shemay, alam naman nating lahat kung gaano kainit panahon ngayon. So sumakay na ko. School na. Nagpaalam kay Manong Guard na masungit pero mabait kanina. Diretso locker. Nadatnan pa ko nina sir Ryan at Sir Darwin. Nagsort out ako ng books at notebooks na magagamit/di na magagamit/mabebenta. Yung mga magagamit lang inuwi ako, at madami rin sya kahit papaano. Bigat ng bag ko. Afterwards, diretso uwi. Lakad. Tinext ko isang tropa niya calmly. Sabi ko una na ko, wala na kasi ako pera para makabalik which is a lie. Syempre, sino ba namang martyr ang babalik diba. Binilin ko na lang din gitara ko, siya kasi kumuha sa school kanina. So yun. Umuwi ako mag-isa. Sa Malabon pa ko nakahanap ng jeep, sobra inet. Kasora. Airplane mode dahil tawag ng tawag. Bwiset yun tric sa Tejero. 40 pesos daw hanggang amin. Tae siya, kainin niya na tric niya. Nagbaby bus na lang ako. At humampas ang braso ko dahil nagalaw siya habang nasakay pa lang ako. Bwiset na araw ano po?
We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.
Let our scars fall in love.
A childhood without books – that would be no childhood. That would be like being shut out from the enchanted place where you can go and find the rarest kind of joy.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.