Looking back.

And on the 28th of December 2016,  the silver anniversary of my high school happened.

It was more than a celebration of reminiscing the old days,  of remembering who were the class clown, the class nerd,  the geek,  the beauty queen.  It was recollecting how we survived and triumphed every subject, project, class presentation and even the CAT.  And how we were the pasaway (naughty) batch.  We were smiling and shaking our heads off while we are at it.

It was a good day to remember that where we are now were greatly because of high school,  of our teachers, of friends ( and even  enemies then) of the values we learned and now lived.  We are proud of each doctor,  accountant, engineer, teacher, nurse, farmer, entrepreneur amongst us.  We are blessed of our batch priest too.

And those we lost.  We remembered them  and didn’t forget.

That was a long time looking back.  But it gives you a sense of pride and happiness that in some way each of us survived and made it.


Making sense of it.

It’s hard when at 2am you stare at everything black thinking why this even happens.

The way people just come, literally pops out of the crowd. Unexpectedly but slowly making their way and even becoming a habit. Never expecting that their smile or even their idiosyncrasies is what has been missing all along.

Then they leave. Sometimes abrupt, not telling. Not even a simple sign that they’ve been feeling the blues. But most of the time slowly drifting and inching their way out. Whatever and however they do it the pain is always the same. Not a tiny bit different.

Maybe this is how life is charted. Coming and going. Up and down. Happiness and sadness. Yin and yang. Black and white. Life or something like it.

The Hills.

With hand clasp, we run uphill
With each breath expecting
Cold with morning mist
Our hands never leaving.

With the sun rising
Witness of how we began
Promised never to part
The heart is now melting.

The church on the centerfield
Promises made on the stones
Never to part but to make it last
A silent prayer to make us through.

Days passed and stars fades
The promised washed by the wind
Though I still go and I still run
Alone now.

Almost a fading memory
Of how we started
My mind still holds true
The hand clasp, the morning mist, the promises
Now broken.