December 02, 2015.
As I deem things in my caliber of understanding, for one, I hate it that things aren't beautiful on their own but only the moment you lay them in contrast to ugly things and for two, I hate how that sounds so logical. It is unbearable to think that the more destructive and painful an event is, the more beautiful and valued is the turn out of that one thing you are attaching with the experienced event. After all, that is how we create the meaning of beauty by convention as we contrast it to ugly, peace in contrast to chaos or happiness in contrast to sorrow.
Same goes with people. I can say that the only moment a person's value and presence are truly appreciated is during that person's absence. There's always that sudden jolt of pain needing to be felt during any day of the week or any time of the day.
That particular strike of obligation requiring you to feel the pain can literally happen at any moment just like now— inside the history lecture room, with me who's completely fine just moments until Dr. Matt, the history professor talked about the significance of the country's historical events which made me think about my own major historical events.
My mind automatically wandered somewhere not even in a close proximity with what Dr. Matt is discussing today.
Unconsciously, my right hand is against my right cheek, caressing the scar that's tattooed across it. The scar ran from under my right eye bag, in between my nose and my right ear and it stopped just above my right jawline, claiming the majority of the right side of my face.
If only the term caressing would suffice when I describe what I am doing now to the scar I acquired five years ago, I would gladly use it if that's entirely the case but it is not. I'm more like reliving the event that's also invisibly tattooed across my right face along with the huge and visible scar and just for a split second, I think I felt the scar sting although I am sure that was just I think a product of my imagination.
Yes, I am thinking about the night that's one of the happenings composing my major historical events and the night that impacted my life the most, in more ways than one.
That night.
The night that scarred not just half of my face but also the areas impenetrable by the naked human eye.
I snapped out from my thoughts when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. It was Grace, one of my solid college buddies. After explaining that she managed to find us both a discussion group to join for a group reporting that's scheduled in a week, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me to a group of block mates who I think are okay. Shiela, who's a senior, automatically became the group's leader and organized the roles each member had to fulfill and I was assigned to report together with her. The rest of the group members who are Grace and two of my batch mates who are Jomari and Lloyd became the researcher and are also assigned to prepare for the visual presentation.
After Shiela and the rest of the group leaders handed a piece of paper containing the group members' names to Dr. Matt, he quickly called the class dismissed suggesting that rest of the time will be spent for group discussion regarding the reporting.
I am looking at the topic that needs to be discussed as though reading it does not at all bug me— The Importance of Major Historical Events in the Contemporary Setting.
If only my personal trauma isn't associated with the terms historical and events.
***
Grace and I were on our way to grab a bite to eat when I received a text from Martin asking if he could join us for lunch and that he's bringing his girlfriend with him whom I haven't met yet. When I got an 'okay' from Grace, I texted Martin right away that it's a yes and that we're having lunch at Grace and I's favorite fast-food— Subway.
