Now All That's Left is Dust

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Past

"Pangit ba ako, Jose? Kalimot-limot ba ako?"

I bet my hotness, I am not. Ang gwapo ko kaya. Putangina. 

"Then, why?" Gritting my teeth, I flipped the one peso coin harshly. "Why!?"

"Dude, hindi na maganda iyang sa'yo. Kinakausap mo na ang piso."

My friends laughed loudly as they sat across me at the table in the cafeteria. I would have talked to Jose Rizal longer if it weren't for that fact.

I cleared my throat and pocketed the one peso curtly.

"That's called, theraphy. Gawin mo rin ito minsan, dude. Makipag-usap ka sa piso para gumuwapo ka naman katulad ko."

All of my friends laughed loudly while I am still furious and depressed with the fact that for the very first time, aside from my Mom and my Dad, someone made me feel irrelevant. Kaligayahan ko ang pinupuri ng iba dahil hindi ako pinupuri ng mga magulang ko. Kaligayahan ko ang mapansin dahil hindi ako pinapansin ng mga taong unang dapat pumansin sa akin.

I always have a high regards to my physical appearance. My looks and my family's financial status is the most priced jewels of my life because without those, I am completely irrelevant. Wala akong lugar sa lipunan na aking ginagalawan kung wala ang mga ito. Kung wala akong lugar sa lipunan, ano na lang ang gagawin ko sa buhay? What I am supposed to in my life without those? Umiyak minu-minuto?

Because here's what they didn't tell us, happiness will find us many times throughout our life, but it will also leave. Hindi ko kailanman naisip noon na mawawala pala ito pagkatapos mong maging bata. I just woke up one day, realizing that presents, chocolates, toys, and playmates would not make me feel happy anymore.

You cannot rely on happiness in certain areas of your life, so you must befriend its absence and welcome the idea of sadness. I know that sadness exists, but no one tells me how it feels.

Napag-aralan kong kilalanin ang lahat ng kulay nang musmos pa lang at ang sabi nila, itim ang kulay ng kalungkutan, kagaya ng langit na nagbabadyang umulan. But they were wrong. Black is not the color of sadness. Black is too beautiful to be associated with sadness. Dahil ang totoo, walang kulay ang kalungkutan. Imagine a life without a color, that is sadness.

The claim to the notion that sadness has no face is not true, too. It has a face, and it's the face that you will see across the mirror every day.

I clenched my jaw as I stared my face across the mirror. After having lunch with my friends, I exited myself and went to the the basketball court exclusive for us- the varsity players. I changed my civilian attire into our varsity uniform and played alone. At first, I enjoyed playing alone. Pero habang tumatagal, nakikita ko si Daddy sa bola kaya sa halip na i-shoot sa ring, sa dingding ko ibinato ang bola ng malakas. Paulit-ulit kong ginawa hanggang sa nagsawa ako at napagod.

Hinihingal na pabagsak akong umupo sa court pagkatapos. Sa gitna ng mga tuhod kong nakataas, ang ulo ko, nakayuko at binibilang ang mabibigat na hininga habang  binibilang ang bawat butil ng pawis na nalaglag sa sahig.

Eventually, I saw my father's face again. I gritted my teeth and slammed my clenching fist on the floor.

Damn! Bakit hindi na lang namatay ang walang kwentang ama na katulad ni Daddy? Bakit pa binuhay ang isang kagaya niya?

Anong dahilan nang nasa itaas? What? For us to become stronger? Why? Because we are human, and it is human to grow in the ups and the downs? Damn! He can give lessons without hurting The people he claimed that he loves!