Someday, I'll Find My Way Home

Axel drives with his friend.

I decided to go back to my apartment at 3PM. I checked out the transient room and got my car at the parking lot. And the drive back to Manila was uneventful. The only thing worth noticing was Taylor Swift's Lover album played in repeat while waiting for the traffic in the expressway.

I've read somewhere that men are capable of thinking about nothing. Just stare into space and not think about anything. That was my mental capacity while driving.

I am an empty shell who only knew how to work and drive. I know nothing about what makes me happy and sad; what drives me to wake up everyday; and what inspires me to move on. And my life had been a constant empty space after five years.  Is this what they call existential crisis? 

When Taylor Swift's Cornelia Street played in my phone, I started to think about Karl again.

When we talked earlier, it felt new and oddly familiar. Something about his words speak volumes and his maturity over the years. It's me who haven't changed even a bit.

And after this, I just don't know how to approach him again. I appeared out of the blue without a heads up. I couldn't just do it again. What would I say? What would we talk about? Can we go back to normal without repercussions?

I can't this much thinking.

When the traffic stopped moving again, I dialed my phone to my go-to when I want to drink and chill.

"Yes?" Her soft voice was deceptive, trust me. "I'm currently at work right now."

"Paula? It's me, Axel."

"Why are you calling?"

"I'm just checking up with my favorite person in the whole wide Makati."

"Let me guess what you did."

"Take your guess."

"Hold on, I need to be screaming for this."

I heard clacking of the keyboard, and then her heels, and finally her voice.

"You fucking went to UPLB."

"I posted an Instagram story earlier, so yes."

"You fucking met Karl again."

"Uh-huh."

"And now you're confused on what you'll do next."

"It's like you know the back of my hand so perfectly!"

"C'mon, are you gonna go in that sinkhole again? Really?"

The traffic advanced again.

"Well, I'm in it, so I guess I can't do anything about it," I replied.

"You bitch," she growled. "Of course you can do something about it! It's called moving on from the past?"

"I know..."

"And you're acting as if you're romantically involved with him before but in fact you're not! You're just a messed up boy who wants his best friend back."

"It just shows that I'm more invested in friendships than romantic relationships."

"Nope," she emphasized. "You're just a sad, little boy."

"Whatever, Paula."

"So," she continued, "drinks later at your apartment or a KTV?"

"We need a more intimate space," I said. "Your apartment."

"Fine. I'll ask permission to Candace and Marvin."

"I'll bring the tequila and snacks."

"Sounds like a good plan, dipshit."