Last Summer, I enrolled in one of the most dreaded subjects in my school. I have to enroll because that subject is part of the “core” subjects that must be incorporated with every other subjects in every course. At least when you reach the higher level of degree, you no longer have to worry about it. But since I am on my first degree, I have to undergo this subject. More so, the subject is incorporated because our government mandated that it should be, thus, it is a MUST. That’s why, I studied a life of a certain someone. Someone, who, according to historians, is one of the most brilliant Filipinos that ever lived, one that is infamous during his time yet so provocative for the modern era. He was the person that made sense and put sense in his countrymen’s colonized minds. He was one of the few people who adopted peaceful means of freeing his country. If he were alive and these events took place in the 20th century, then maybe he would be awarded a Noble Prize. At least it could be realized, and he was able to realize, though other people, his vision. Although of course, we are not yet fully liberated, given that the ties with the former colonizers weren’t fully destroyed and or remade. With this, I guess I gave you the sense of the importance of the subject.
But because it is an important subject, you might as well know that it is dreaded and sometimes feared. Imagine memorizing the whole books created by this person, there were 3, and incorporating all the information from the books to his life, which spun for 35 years. What creeps out from this? Ideologies, persons linked to him, his ancestry, his first teacher, his friends, his “other works,” his life abroad, his romantic life, etc. But more than that is the idea of identifying the succession of literature. Since he was able to create a Novel, we must understand how novels came to being. Meaning to say, we need to study prose and poetry, epics, then Novels. That means that our study stemmed from the primordial and ancient forms of texts, that run from hundreds of years ad considered an intangible Heritage (now it’s dying) to a more recent one, the novels of Rizal (by recent I mean it was there since the 19th century-I don’t know if I made sense at all).
To make the matters worst, I was under one of the most controversial, successful and talented teachers (to those people who read my blog, I guess you already know him). Everyday, for the next two months, we must prepare. Read and read. Lazy me being here, I didn’t do much reading, and so, I almost flung this subject. It was fun, but the end was nearing (it was around middle May). By that time, I was already confiding to the person that I loved the most. That teacher was the same teacher who taught the life and works of Rizal to the person I was referring in my previous posts. I gave the impression that I cannot survive life as it is if not for the caress I get from that person. If not for the care that person has been giving me, the guidance, the positive outlook in life – teeming with possibilities, the energy that the sun cannot even give me, I would have committed suicide.
That person, with just one word, removed all the stresses of my life. That person, made me feel the infinity of happiness, and he put meaning to the bottomless bucket of ice that one experiences with his/her loved one. That person, was there, during our last meeting for the dreaded Subject. It was the moment that I really needed someone the most. That person gave me the sense of assurance. That person, assured me, that even if time ceases to exists, we will be in each other’s side. The melancholic scent I smell, the tantalizing eyes and look that person gives me… It was Euphoric… Then, I asked for a kiss… It was one of the best stolen things the world offered me that day… It made me sense the universe conspiring for us. Just being there, by the hallway, looking left and right and perfectly, the symmetry of the corridor, the absence of anything and anyone that can disturb us, it was magical… I wasn’t expecting that it would be this meaningful… Yet, it was…
|Photo by Luna Cruz, not mine.|
That person walked me to my class, even if in the first place, I can manage. But being beside, walking alongside a special someone makes things exponentially more especial. I cannot, at one point or another, restrain myself from looking at the future ahead of us… Yet, I am lonely, again… Not just alone. It would be too superfluous to say that I am alone. In fact, things sometimes are superficial. People tell me that I am bubbly, and I always smile for those who greet me. But deep inside, I miss someone… Therefore, in a crowd of loud people, I am lonely, because there is the feeling of emptiness in me… A longing that even if the torments of that summer happen all over again, at least, I know, during which, I have someone to hold on to… I just hope, to relive the past 6 months, even if it means I have to give up my future…
(to be continued)