Amethyst Died that Saturday

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23

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MY PARENTS DIED when I was fourteen, and right after their funeral, I was immediately sent somewhere far from our hometown. My aunt bought me a small house in Ashmore, miles and miles and miles and miles away from her, as if she is utterly disgusted at my whole being. She sends mails sometimes, but I ignore them. Close ako sa anak niyang babae na si Marivic, and we honestly felt sad that we would be away from each other.

So basically, I lost my parents, my aunt, and probably the only friend I know.

I was sad, but I almost had no time to. Kinailangan kong magtrabaho, maghanda sa pamumuhay mag-isa, maging dependent sa sarili ko. When it strikes though and even I myself can't get away from it, I write.

The greater the sadness is, the greater the poems I write. I wrote many poems about tragedy, being bereft, about broken hearts, about parents, mothers, fathers, and so on. Writing became my remedy; it was my best friend. Though I only consider this as a hobby, I value writing so much.

The last time I wrote a poem, it was for Cinna. I wrote about her eyes and the coffee she'd always order, plus just some romantic shit.

When Amethyst left, I forgot all about writing. Maybe the heartbreak is really bad that I forgot about this one thing that I love, and something that probably would help me.

Since realizing that, instead of sleeping away the sadness I constantly feel, I sit on my desk and write her a hundred poems. Papers after papers, tears and coffee by my side. I also busied myself creating playlists for her, full of songs that describe her, full of songs that make me remember her face whenever I close my eyes.

I felt obsessed, until I just couldn't take it anymore.

Gusto ko siyang hanapin.

—

IT IS SUMMER now, the second summer since Amethyst's disappearance. It's Saturday, and I went to the beach, as usual, bringing my phone, my papers and my pen with me. Nakasanayan ko nang tumambay sa cottage sa dulo ng beach na wala halos pumupunta, tumititig sa dagat na pinaliliguan ng araw saka nagsusulat. This is the same cottage Amethyst stayed under for a week.

Sometimes I just sit there and listen to the songs I collected for her. Cinna said that I am just even more immersing myself to Amethyst, and instead of forgetting her, I am successfully doing otherwise, and it is 'unhealthy' for me.

But . . . I do not intend to forget Amethyst. By doing all these, it makes me feel as if Amethyst is still with me, as if she's within me, smiling. It makes me remember her smiles, laughter, the cookie crumbs on the sides of her lips, the redness of her cheeks, the softness of her long, brown hair . . . her face upon that candlelight as she sang me happy birthday.

I do not intend to forget her. Never will I.

Nagalit sa akin si Cinna nang sinabi ko sa kanyang gusto kong hanapin si Amethyst. She said that I'm insane; that I shouldn't look for someone obviously looking for herself, too, because I would just be damaging myself in the process.