Can you have more friends here than back there??? They gave me answers not even related to the question, or maybe they were too real for me to understand. “You can’t possibly compare more or less 16 years worth of friendship in the Philippines than a year in America.” “That’s possible because you’re in school right now, and you meet different people every day, every semester.”  “WHY are you comparing? Do you like the noisy life? You gotta sacrifice one way or another.” (WHAT?) “Well, do you want the chaotic life back in the Philippines? Then go back there. It also depends on your neighbors.” (HAHA. WHAT?) “Define friendship. You can have friends to shop with, friends to go dance at the disco with, friends you can share your secrets and problems, friends you call when you’re in trouble, friends you know because you do. Tell me what kind of friend you want, THEN we can compare. But don’t worry, Trish, you’ll find good friends. You may have a lot but there are only a few that will be stuck with you for the rest of your life.”

That last response made me shiver. The subtle things we take for granted, eh? Why am I even thinking about this if I’m SUPPOSED to know the answer by heart. Heart, are you still there? People say you’re non existent. Let’s prove you’re alive, if they let give us a chance.

Then I answered back, “I know. I lost one. The only one I’m ever looking for.” “See, Trish, ganyan talaga.”

I don’t know if life’s always like that, but please tell me I’m not as deranged as people think I am. It’s never too late to go back, right? Not till I’m being served as lunch for the little coffin critters, I believe there’s still a tiny drop of glow in the dark paint. GANYAN TALAGA won’t get me anywhere, it won’t let me bend time and space and defy the laws of quantum physics either. GANYAN TALAGA won’t give me a time machine, nor will it give me power to influence people’s emotions. I just hope this little piece of writing will let you raise your head up and not be mad at me for being so cold in the past. It was for you, not me. And I swear I was not a zombie before. You can try piercing my finger or something to see if I’m still bloody alive.

I miss you.


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