Swear Jar

Third Coin

"What's your favorite color?

"Blue or Pink?"

Heartfelt people in my life remind me of colors, and that has become my favorite.

One of the funniest, cringiest, most absurd, just bury me alive, totally embarrassing - whenever I recall denying my liking for pink and pretending to like blue because... my crush in fifth grade said he likes boyish girls!!! So??? What was I thinking?!

Gender... is something that extends far beyond mere color distinctions. Unless we were doing a pregnancy gender reveal -which is cute on the most basic level.

It was just that... I was never boyish! I wasn't stylish but consciously I dressed up just like any other typical girl would. I may be simple, and was even once called "manang" by one of our teachers in elementary which I by the way never took as something offensive. But there was no time in my entire childhood that I was boyish. So when he asked what my favorite color was, although it had always been pink, I proudly said blue. I'm volunteering to be a clown, indeed.

Why did I do that again???

The news of it reached my closest friends, some didn't make a big deal out of it but some were intrigued. Especially those who were aware of me writing pink on their slam books or had witnessed how I always chose pink whenever possible... I was persistent in defending myself, claiming that there were things they just didn't know about me when they insisted I was devoted to pink and that there was no way I would suddenly have blue as my favorite.

Whatever, I got bummed out that time. I sensed that they didn't support me for being someone that could please my crush. I was ridiculous for thinking that, I now admit.

That scenario made me feel sorry for the innocent and younger me -me before I even knew what "favorite color" meant. I have this memory of my little hands fisting a pink crayon that from then on I had been picking items in any of its shades, particularly the lighter ones.

But conceivably I was just naive, I thought changing a thing that could hint something about my personality would appeal to others. I swear I would never do that again, throw me a chair if I even think of doing such a thing.

Me pretending to like blue went on, until the 10th grade HAHA. I didn't know why, it just continued even after he was no longer around. Anyway, blue is cool; made me think I was, too.

It struck me when my closest friends surprised me on my 16th birthday and I overheard them arguing about what my favorite color was. She said pink, he said blue. Then they asked me, I was taken aback. Even I was not sure. I said both.

From there, I decided to embrace my fondness for pink again. Bye-bye, blue. It felt good to return to pink, especially since it was also the color my mama knew I liked the most. If Mama knows it, then it must be true.

And there was you... You who think of me with everything pink.

When you said that, I got the feeling that I own every hue, every tint, and every tone of pink. I became more enthusiastic about it when people associate pink with me. All the gradients, any palette of pink were me. Even though not all my stuff was pink, nor did I clad a head-to-toe pink outfit, you knew how I always exude pink. I didn't have to put on an ensemble of pink getups or display pink items I own because I rarely had so, you just knew.

You brought up anything pink to me, and I was tickled pink. I didn't have to say it aloud, I didn't have to claim it as my favorite, or my color, because you always gave it to me. Led me to believe that anything pink was for me, that I was the color pink itself, because you made me feel that way. Nevertheless, that didn't keep up. That feeling didn't last.

Makes me think if I ever put a curse on you, do all pinks bring me to your mind? But it turned out that I was the one being reminded of how you made pink mine. It was dreadful. There was always a part of you in every pink I saw.

Still, I knew that would never make me grow to dislike it or feel repulsed by it.

Because another, was you.

You too, had a thing for pink. But I don't remember you openly being into it whenever I was around. Reminiscing, I realized you always gave way to me. But there was one time when you tried, for yourself...

It was what stood out among the many memories we shared. Yet I was so used to getting my way, especially when it came to people who held me dear. This one was so vivid, I can sharply recall how I was appearing a bit down, the way you observed me, and how you gave in to my subtle whim.

When I was being too childish, you acted like an adult and handled the situation (me, I was the handful situation) even when neither of us was even 18. I acted like I was six, sulking because I didn't get what I wanted.

We popped into a bookstore after class to buy a drawing notebook required in one of our core courses. There were only a few left on the shelf and we didn't like the colors available. But then I saw blue... I was quick to pick it, while you toured every corner of the place searching for whatnot. I was waiting near the fiction section when you returned holding a pink drawing notebook. You were so delighted finding and holding it.

Until now, I am sorry for not at least trying to look happy for you. I reacted candidly, "Hala, gusto ko ng pink".

Liar... I wanted the one you had.

I asked where'd you get it. I appreciated your gesture of still taking me to the shelf where you found it even though you had already told me that what you were holding was the last one. We still tried to look for another one, on the upper or lower shelves, hoping another pink drawing notebook might have been misplaced there. But like you said, you already had the last one.

I hated myself, I forgot you were not someone who would always permit my capriciousness, accommodate my requests, and accept all of my foibles. I didn't intend to manipulate it my way, but my wrong was that I was unconsciously frowning the whole time we were in line at the counter. I swear I didn't mean to look so unhappy. It was just my resting face-something I frequently get told off-that looked even more rude and made overt by what I was feeling at the time.

"Palit na lang tayo." you offered when it was our turn at the cashier.

My eyes got starry as my mood lit up. I didn't remember being surprised, maybe a part of me had already expected it. And you actually did. You, switching drawing notebooks with me... I was probably too presumptuous to have subconsciously anticipated it. Why? Because I didn't recall ever feeling negatively toward you. You always considered me. I was immature, like seriously, glowering my way just for a color? Vehement.

We were only 17, and I knew during those years, I was not yet... as generous as you were. I would surely internally scream "why?!" and would mirror the petulance shown to me. Like why would I feel the need to give something to someone just because they wanted it when I wanted it too? Why should I feel the need to give way? Most importantly when I had it first... But you're you. You saw how much of a kid I was, like how a child clings tightly... to things. You let me have it and I don't think I will ever forget that moment in the bookstore.

Looking back, I realize that I learned to be so considerate of situations, of people, because of those who first understood me. I was lucky I was surrounded by people like you, who at times or often simply tolerated me on occasions I had no shame acting up.

I didn't tell you how at that moment I learned to loosen my grip on the color pink. I no longer wanted to be so obsessed with it. Snapped that I didn't own it, unlike what the other one had made me feel. Screw that thought. Even the wealthiest billionaires in the world would not dare to claim ownership of a color, let alone make it exclusive to themselves.

In eleventh grade, I went home with a pink drawing notebook. While you took the blue one with you. How thoughtless of me to passive-aggressively sulk over it.

I was sure I was happy... But what about you? Did you later realize that you should not have given it to me? Maybe you hated me at that time. You probably regretted coming with me. And I would not blame you for that.

Perhaps it is... you are, the warmest shade of pink to me. I am convinced that you will always remind me of pink, in the softest way.