Lost & Found

Whenever I can’t find something, whether it’s my keys, my mobile phone, or a guitar pick, I simply can’t help but feel frantic. My mind goes on autopilot, trying to think back on the day’s events. Where did I last see it, or what was I doing before it vanished. Like a raving lunatic, I check every possible hiding place. Whether it’s my old school bags, or the inside of the sofa, I leave no stone unturned. And in the midst of all that anxious searching, the same train of thought goes through my head over and over:

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WHERE IS IT??

The Onion Philosophy

As you get older, there’s always that slight chance that you get more sentimental. The pictures on the table speak of a thousand tales, of happy memories from a not so distant long ago. Little knick-knacks become more than just souvenirs; they’re like Horcruxes, bearing the soul of the one who once held them. As you hold one of the pieces in your hands, it’s as if a home movie plays in your brain, and you find yourself smiling at the sudden rush of nostalgia.

Unfortunately, where there is good, there will also be bad. Sad, painful memories that silently slice your heart. And probably even worse, those beautiful memories that leave you in a state of motionless delusion, forever longing for something which will probably never happen again. With each slice, your eyes, and most of the time your heart, can’t help but shed tears.

Good thing there’s The Onion Philosophy.

Love That Surpasses Death

This morning when I woke up, the first thing that I see is the poster at the foot of my bed. Technically, it’s not even a bed, for I sleep on the sofa. But there, in front of me, is a picture of my parents on their wedding day. My mother had me print that when I was in college. It was a letter to her from my father, and the background was a picture of their wedding kiss.

Today, is my parents’ wedding anniversary. This marks their 45th year together. This may seem unusual or amusing to some that we still count the anniversaries, but six years after my father’s passing, and I can still feel their love for each other.

The Way She Smiles

He would never have imagined that things would end up like this. The beginning was undeniably beautiful, and there were times when he would actually wonder how it happened, how he had ended up in those moments that, for lack of a better word, have been some kind of wonderful.

He had long resigned himself to the fact that nothing lasts forever, and that whatever joyful event he experienced, was merely momentary. He was fine with it, for in a world that was constantly trying to drive him insane, he enjoyed those brief moments shared with Lady Luck.

Ghost Story

It was a dark and silent night, and save for a few other people, there was no one else in the hall. Especially not near his vicinity, for all his associates had already left earlier. As far as he was concerned, he was all alone.

Then what was that creaking noise?

Another Sun Soaked Ordeal

There was nothing to see for miles away.

At the start of my journey, I was brimming with excitement at the chance to see a whole new environment. It was not everyday that you get to walk across majestic sands, bathed in the warm embrace of golden sunshine. It was, I believed, an opportunity that I could not bear to pass up.

“This will be a brand-new experience,” I said to myself. “Things are going to be different this time.”

Or so I thought.

It was Day 437, and once again I find myself plagued by vultures.

An All Too Familiar Ending

The night was a showcase of glittering lights. It was almost the end of another long month, and the end of another exhausting week. Most of them wanted to go home. Some had already left earlier.

For some reason, he wanted to stay.

Confusion

Even now there is no certainty
There is no clear answer
The rest of the world
Lost in a blur
A haze of emotions
Comes crashing down around me

Starting Over

Possibly one of the worst feelings ever in your life happened in the aftermath of a great loss. With your mind scrambling to connect all the events that have led to that incident, all you can really say at that particular moment is “What the hell just happened?” If you’re someone who’s generally generous with expletives, go ahead and substitute some other word for “hell”.

I’ve probably replayed the day’s events more than a dozen times already, but I still can’t figure out how things ended up like this. As far as I could tell, it was unthinkable that this would happen. That is probably where I messed up. I had been comforted with the idea that things have been going smoothly for the longest time, that I let my guard down. I was caught up in the belief that there was no way things could go wrong. Unfortunately, life always finds a way to catch up with you. And just for the sake of teaching you a valuable lesson, life will decide to shake things up a bit.

A Bittersweet Melody

It was indeed, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

He could probably spend days listening to it, and never get tired of hearing it. He could be forever lost in that moment, and yet he’d feel no need to return back the way he came from. As far as he could tell, this rapturous feeling was the closest to heaven that he’d ever felt. He could not bear it in his heart to depart.

The Gauge of Happiness

I’ve forgotten when it all started, but there came a time when I wanted a certain August day to pass by unnoticed. Without fanfare, without any commotion. Not that I wasn’t thankful for the blessing of making it past another year, but I just wanted it to be a quiet day, free from the unnecessary spotlight that was traditionally imposed on celebrants like myself.

Also, one other reason is that I didn’t want anyone spending on gifts for me. I was already quite content just being in the company of family and friends, so I’ve never expected any gifts of the material kind. It sounds like something out of a Shōnen manga, but there was no better gift for me than friendship.

One day, out of nowhere, a friend of mine asked me what I thought about guitar picks. True to form, I almost rambled on about the perks of playing the guitar using a pick, and the difference in sound quality. I asked Tonet why the sudden interest, and I was told that it was for someone she knew who plays the guitar.

The Lady of the Gallows

I looked up above and tried picturing the sky, but alas, there was nothing to see. As I walked slowly along the long corridor, I suddenly felt like I was a prisoner making his way towards the gallows. The passage of time never felt this slow, and the things that have been happening around me were starting to feel like replays of an old life. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and then sighed.  I slowly opened my eyes,  but alas, my surroundings disappointingly remained the same. It didn’t really come as a surprise, but apparently I was still stuck in a gloomy reality.

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Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, an apparition appeared before me.

A Dark and Stormy Night

It was supposed to be like any other journey home. Four of us were on the left side of the bus. Ann and Lyn were seated in front of me and Mary. Paul was seated opposite me on the right side of the bus, beside the window. On his front was Joy and Marie. It was raining outside, and traffic was making our trip very slow. The girls in front were busy with their conversation. Ken was listening to some music on his mobile phone, and so was Mary who was staring only at the window . I think the only conversation we had was when she told me the reason why she wanted to transfer seats. And as casually as it has started, I naturally ended up sitting again by myself. It seemed that nothing else would happen that night. Joy was the first to depart from the bus. A few meters ahead (and a lot more minutes spent waiting), and Marie left the bus as well. Someone sat down beside me, and it seemed to me that it was only a matter of time before I bid the others farewell and got down from the bus.

The next events are somewhat hazy to me, and there was some time before I could believe that it really happened.

Legacy

“Nag-field trip kami nun dati sa Corregidor.. tapos me tunnel dun sobrang dilim na sa loob na pinasukan namin.. tapos me isang lugar dun, parang labas yata ng gubat, me camera case; di namin alam kanino yun o bakit nandoon yun..”

That was the last story I’d tell my father. He passed away that morning, and as I desperately tried to revive him, all my untold stories were replaced with unanswered questions. There was no sense in fighting the tears that flowed; I was hoping against hope that he was just sleeping. There was no feeling in the doctor’s words when he told me that the slight movement I saw at the morgue was just rigor mortis. It was as if the sliver of hope that I was clinging to was cruelly snatched from me.

I close my eyes, and I listen to the sounds made by the rain as it falls on the roof. My mother is listening to a radio broadcast, but the words are just a buzz of incomprehensible chatter to me; I’m currently lost in my thoughts.