'Sus Mariosep!

“The words you speak are paradigms of insouciance; cold yet so calming. Oh, how I wish I can break the impenetrable barriers between us, and show you the very reason why I shed tears almost endlessly each night you never whispered goodnight.”


‘I can barely say a word when I hear her name.’ This line may sound cliché but it’s the closest way of defining the mentality I have since her presence was felt by mine. Some began to ask me who, others had simply known everything; some know absolutely nothing, while you might already have an idea who she is. Such things really don’t matter, but somehow, it felt like the old emotions began to haunt me again. Everything looked the same, if not, similar in many ways. Dejavu? Impossible. So I took a closer look, examining the sequence of events that led me to this state. Within a fraction of time, I spotted it, and it turned out that the difference was quite obvious.

“Nothing’s certain,” I said as I paced to and fro outside our classroom. The heat drove me insane for a while, and boredom combined with heat meant disastrous thoughts. I began to look around and noticed other students doing their own ways in eliminating the uneasiness. On the other side of the fourth floor where are section is located are a few neighbors, and people were also busy bustling in the hallways as well as inside their rooms. Most of them were in groups, and I easily recognized one of them: ‘The Tikbae Society’ (I’m sorry but it’s the only title I can call these guys). They are one of the last hybrids of DotA players in high school; I and a few others possess the very same blood that flows in their veins. Unfortunately, the rest or most of the students in the lower levels are crappy, if not, dorky and goofy; recruiting is almost impossible, and this made us realize that we are the last generation of students with both intelligence and ‘stukaei-ity’ in one package. Since preserving our legacy is not an option, we thought the best thing we can do is live our lives to the fullest in the last days of our royalty. So much about them, my point is most of them will actually take part in the script of this epical play.

Yes, a play; a play one may find complicated and even ominous. The way some view it really doesn’t matter, for the plot is common and likely: from a total stranger to something that goes beyond certain boundaries. You know what I’m talking about, and in a sense, I think you had known the details before I did. Now you see how common the setting is, so you wonder why I would spend time writing about something everyone can experience. Perhaps it’s something I like to take deeper; or perhaps it’s a risk I’m willing to take, where my blood is at stake. Neither I nor anyone knows the mystery of why I chose to engage in gambling myself as well as my heart in this duel, but I know it’s something worth my sacrifice. Misconceptions were already laid; some say I only want it merely for sheer challenge, others say that it’s for my own selfish desires. The only thing I was able to surpass such criticism was by pretending numb, or remembering past experiences that gave my struggling emotions rhythmical convulsions. I was virtually immune to it. The only thing that matters now is the truth that I hope will prevail in the eyes of many. And with open arms, I could do nothing but embrace the fact that I do like her in so many ways, and it is only the beginning…

Like any other night, I arrived late, ate my dinner and faced the computer simultaneously. It is the only pattern I know of in spending my extra time when I arrive home out of the crevasses of school besides studying and fulfilling my requirements. Often, it takes a while before I can connect to the internet since our connection was economic, but surprisingly it was quite fast that night. The only thing I did when I was able to connect was log-in to yahoo messenger and checked people online; in some cases, I open the browser and review my accounts or simply download files and songs. I felt lucky that somehow, we had no requirements that day and I was free to dilly-dally and forget the pressure in my hectic schedule. Chatting turned out to be a hassle in that peaceful scenery, but there was no other option left; in a while, I started some online conversations with fellow students. Astonishingly, some turned out to be quite interesting which, in turn, depleted the boredom. Something caught my eye, perhaps it’s someone I barely noticed in my list. She’s someone from the higher year, and I was in doubt if I’m going to call her ‘ate’ or not. Reluctantly, I started chatting with her, like starting a basic conversation with a total stranger. It was not long after I first met her online that she eventually became a friend, whether in my part or both of us knew that, it really doesn’t matter. Her classmate began bugging me about her, but I thought of it as something usual. I realized that she was sweet, but carefree in a very intricate way; the more I thought of her character, the more I was confused and I didn’t know the reason why. Within the climax, she signed out and I was left hanging and staring at the blinking cursor blankly. Something whispering in the back of my head began to annoy me, and it became extremely irritating and louder in a minute. I was inquisitive with myself on how the transition happened so fast that I almost lost my composure; something like that never happened to me before. Pretending everything seems to be clear, I signed out and turned the stereo of the computer on trying to fill the empty space with mellifluous songs. The lights were off, and I lied in bed totally awake, thinking deeply under the shadows of the moonlighted corner. A strange form of renaissance upheld me as I forced my eyes to sleep by repeating her name in my mind almost a thousand times. And the weird thing is, the particular song itself, perfectly matched the strangeness.

“How much longer, ‘cause this keeps getting stronger? I wonder what she’s doing when I’m singing myself to sleep…”

The play date of our theatrical play in our school was just a couple of days ahead, and since I had been chosen as one of its participants along with other students, it was not uncanny that we had to prepare and practice as soon as possible. We were assigned to provide the musical tunes of the play, and that meant tiresome task of shouldering loads of instruments. Yet it somehow felt worth the burden, at least this was better than staying home for the rest of the day. Music is also a distinguishable part of my soul and everything I know about it is cherished by heart. That personal interest gave me the joy and enjoyment of creating our own harmonies whenever we had the chance. The last prayer of the day signaled the start of practice, not that I was excited but I was dying to escape the symbols of education. In just a few days, I was used to the routine and it easily fitted my watch. But though each day was no different from each other, I knew that there would be one moment that would change the cycle.

It is a belief that things are always expected to unexpectedly unfold. The certain event I dreamt of happened the very day I thought it would. In the middle of the routinely made evacuation, a friend unknowingly grabbed me when I was caught idle and began to say something I thought was irrelevant. But I got his point when he guided me out my dysfunctional system and uttered something that tickled my curiosity. “That’s her,” he said while pointing to a particular girl that looked familiar. I stared at her for a few seconds while briefly scanning my memory. Then I started to realize and identify what I was looking for, “Ahhh! Siya ‘yung…’yung…” “Yeah, you’re right,” he said like he knew what I wondered about a few nights ago. I was too lazy to leave a comment so I continued on with the routine, though that instance I was lost, literally. The aftermath was unexplainable, it was a feeling that clanged within or perhaps it was something that ‘emulsified’ my thoughts. Whether it was this or that, the only thing I knew was the fact that an affinity exists in two particular things, that itself sent shivers down my spine. The night that day, I found it irresistible to have a conversation with her. The first and only thing I was able to type was the words ‘Nakita kita.’ After that, she began to ask me questions of how and where then strangely laughed herself out. I felt degraded that she still somehow knew me as a stranger, but I felt all right about it. This time, I slept not only with confusion, but with ignorance as well. “Who the hell is she? Why am I acting this way?” And yes, she was undoubtedly tantalizing.

Before, I kept on wondering why people who knew her laughed when I asked about her and mention her name. I did that for about three times, and each one had the same reaction, which in turn disturbed me, of course. It was not until someone mentioned her true name that I realized what people were trying to say. Later that very day, I checked back my messenger list still puzzled. I only found out soon that her name in my list composed of her first name and the surname of a female celebrity, which perplexed me more. But some of her friends began to explain the reasons, and such reasons were really hilarious and some made me think that she’s still someone typical. Everything about her kept me smiling each day; the worse thing is I was never conscious about it. Though in reality we, both, are still strangers, I already know many things about this woman even on the very night I met her. I know that she’s addicted to a particular celebrity, and that she like’s underground music; she loves to play musical instruments; I even thought of her as being a punk, and even her hobbies were simply revealed. Something mysterious exists between us. All these overwhelmed me, because every time I thought of things, I remember myself; well… except the celebrity part. And though we still only had a glimpse of our entire personality, I knew that from the very start, we share a common character and an inch margin of differences. Someone like her is not ordinary, someone entirely in one package. Her beauty is unquestionable, and her totality amazes me. Sometimes, I act with hauteur just to remove the haziness and see things a little clearer. But she only grew cold, which somehow upset me, yet her aura remained and even continued to wrap me. I tried to evince something, even evoke the emotions, but I often felt rejected in a sweet way. A certain callousness complies with her charm and in her pride, reflecting that there is something special about her being, something not known. I thought of this as a conspiracy, like everything boggled me in one way or another. I seek for her words, like a baby intimately longs for its mother. But I knocked myself back to where I belong, and remembered once again that I was still a stranger to her.

Desperately, I attempted to get myself closer to her. I chat with her whenever she’s online, and this turned regular every night. I desired for the person behind her shadows, and going that deep is difficult, if not, consequential. She showed some hope, then took it back, and projected it again; what I’m trying to say is, she’s erratic in a superlative level. With these occurrences, it was inevitable for people to link the two of us, and damn, it was irritating. But as time passed by, I grew used to it and maybe even her as well; often, I gave them a smile at times they annoy me (perhaps because it is true in my part.) But instead of preventing me from my goal, it only convinced and persuaded me to push harder and put a little amount of effort. Every night we had a short talk online, and it was enough for my feelings to lull myself to sleep. I once failed in asking her phone number, so I consulted one of her friends as well as asked for some advice on how I might approach her. Everything flowed smoothly, and I tried to maintain it that way as much as possible; it would be shocking or corrupting when I immediately show her the concealed secret I had for her. If I do something like that without thinking twice and failed, all the torches that I lighted will simply fade, and that risk is too much for me to take. I started it, and I had to pursue. The following week from the night I met her, we began texting regularly when she’s not busy or when I had the chance to. And still, a hint of coldness could still be seen in her messages; but like any other thing that kept on happening, I grew used to it. At least now, I could reach her without connecting to our slow network. Gladness is what I felt every night I stay late just to know her more, and perhaps by then, I was no longer a stranger to her. Her ‘goodnight’ was enough to show me a glimpse of friendship, and it was totally enough for happiness to purge me. Deeply, I was moved by still voices in my mind and all the words she said resounded along with it. I found myself under siege by my own emotions. For now, I started to long for her voice.

A week had passed, and though I already knew many things about this person and spent a reasonable amount of time conversing with her, we never talked personally or even seen each other face to face, not once. So I searched for ways on how I could meet her personally, or probably the only reason in my mind was I wanted to hear her speak. She thought that it was a great idea and agreed; I found her answer with the opportunity I was looking for, so I willingly planned a specific time for us to have what I had in mind. I thought of a script, and believe it or not, it was my first time to do something like that. Often, I never plan on what to say, but this time is quite different. With the help of some of my friends and their annoying mouths, I was able to successfully place things in their assigned places. The moment came, and in a sudden, I grew extremely nervous and began to feel restless; it was not normal for me to be that way, so I kept on wondering why I was sweating and trembling. But it’s now or never. I told her through text that I was a few tiles away, and the instance I saw her, I approached her gently. “Hello,” she said silently with a small voice. After I heard her greeting, all my plans along with the script I wrote in my mind came crashing down and my confidence was decreased to nothing; the only thing that came out of my lips was the word ‘hi’ and it came with a squeal; after, I began muttering and asking what I was supposed to say. I could not help but stare and be silent, and ended it with nothing interesting to say. Perhaps I was too nervous, but that cannot be since I never felt something like such. But maybe this time, it was different. Even now I still wonder why that strange occurrence happened, and each time I thought of it, I felt uneasy or even shut down. A view of her always speeds up my heartbeat, along with a smile I only show to myself. Many knew my feelings for her, and maybe even she had the idea of what it was from the beginning. But it really doesn’t matter, as long as I still see a silver lining in the sky. At least now, I could hear her voice in my dreams.

The critic night of our theatrical play was just a few days ahead, and we were as busy as bees in perfecting the scenes and preparing everything for our best performance. She always inspired me when I grew weary or jaded, and sometimes gave me an adrenaline rush whenever I was caught tired. The best thing was that I can freely say hi to her after the unfortified establishment a few days before, since almost everyone knew what was going on within me. I wanted a conversation that would last long and with certain interesting topics; but this still seemed improbable since my schedule grew more hectic because of the play. And at last, critic night came, the night we would be judged by our performance. Surprisingly, even with the lack of practice, we got good comments from the judges as well as positive remarks that made us realize we still have room for improvement. I was happy that day, but it was only partly because of the success of the play. A few hours ago, I again met her down the school’s cafeteria along with her classmates, most were club members. Since they kept on calling me and persuading me to do something, I thought of a way on how I can satisfy their expectation. “Anung gusto mo?” I asked her if she wanted something to eat. The only thing I heard after was applaud and screaming, and that, itself, was self-explanatory. “Thanks. Pero kumain na ako,” I think that’s what she said to me. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, it’s the only thing I could do after the sensation. Then, she was out of my sight as quickly as she was before me; in just a few minutes, we were texting again, talking about what happened a while ago. Although she didn’t accept my offer, it was enough to complete my day with joy deep within. Yes, a day without her voice is like a day without food. She once said that I was too sentimental, and I don’t know if I would accept that as a compliment or not. But what she saw was true, and there’s nothing left for me to explain why. This happened the night before I wrote this sentence, and I knew that memories like such would leave something eternal. I saw myself patched to her, and a form of mutual understanding battled in the existence of her presence. The abstract animated into something concrete, and it was just indescribable why it felt right. In other words, I started to feel something special for her.

Of course, there are always obstacles along the way. One of her friends warned me about her status as being in barriers, others about her cold character and the like, some words were frightening like how she turn down guys and how a line of defenses surrounds her, and others had nothing to say at all. But I see these things as something common, since I once encountered all these puddles of mud in my past. Yet I wonder again if this time, it would be different. Like what I said, “Nothing’s certain.” One time, I dared to ask her out if she has time, but she only hit me with parental restriction; this proves that the peril I thought of was right. And often, she goes home early and get busy with requirements of the school’s curriculum, proving that education is something she held dear. And what if she's only pretending in some things I see? What if a form of hatred or disgust is hidden from my sight? The things I assume may be right, not that I think about her that way, but a sense of foreboding has instilled itself within the fragile. Such may prevent me from revealing myself to her. Yes, I wanted to court her, but it seems like many things are at stake. But I think it’s time that I look to a place nearer than home, something I often missed considering, something that could change the polished tracks I laid before her: Myself.

Nobody is perfect. That line serves to be the basis of equality in everyone, that no one can be the best in everything. I, myself, knew and understood the basic concepts of life and how I should live with it. I’m no special than others; I’m simply a common guy with a common life and common traits. Everything about my self can be found in a million others, and though I am made unique, such factors are still unchangeable. Every time I thought of myself, I thought of how she looked at me. What chance do I have with someone so majestic? The probability seemed slim. My goal is not to play with her conscience, but to seek for answers if whether the ordinary can mend together with the perfect. You say that she is someone common; or maybe she, herself, considers that nothing seems special in her character. What they say doesn’t matter, for in my eyes, she’s the only girl I knew with all the treasures I longed for with patience of heart. Courting a demure and sophisticated lady may be the hardest thing I would dare to do, and even the only thing I’ll do for love where great things are in the line. She’s too perfect, even to good to be true, and all those things are priceless, if not, comes with a price. It would be costly in my heart’s part, but I’m neither concerned of the cost nor of my emotions. The question is, is she going to accept my words? Will she give me the chance? Such questions are never meant to be answered. You ask, “Why her?” Though she, too, comes with imperfections, it was engulfed by her smile. It’s not that she’s one in a million as romance usually utters, but the exact opposite: she’s a million in one, a fallen angel perhaps. All I’ve waited is in front of me, the only thing left for me to do was decide whether to reach for it or not. But of course, some instances would be agonizing. And I find myself coming back to where I stood before, still confused and obdurate. I have no time to seek for reasons, let heaven, itself, answer everything. Everything seems obfuscated, but I know of one thing: my heart beats only for her.

My own play has only started, and I still have no idea of the things that can happen. My days are numbered, and each one is made special by her. She may be unconscious about it, but it’s her own mysterious ways that made me act emotionally. But I don’t want to go impatient and pushed further without thinking, I want to assure everything flows slowly and surely. So far, the order never experienced chaos. But in time, I need her cooperation; and if trust is not established soon and her absence still lingers, everything will be rendered useless and will lie shattered on the floor. I say that I won’t survive life without inspiration, and her role is somehow unstable. She’s my royal odalisque, yet my state is lower than hers. So many tears had already been shed, but each drop is never wasted. Day and night, I vowed that I would do everything just to show her what this soul is crying out, and I’m ready to beat the odds.

Loving a stranger with all your heart without any means of control over my self and my emotions is probably the strangest thing I did. My loyalty towards myself is tested often; but this time, all these are only for her. I wished that hope will never stop guiding the way with that small yet eternal flame in the abyss of love. What I fear is that hope will turn out to be only an illusion, and that would be destructive. Perhaps I’m selfish or perhaps I’m too exaggerating; however, my selfishness is sweet to the tongue and exaggeration is the only way I could truly express myself. Time is not a factor, for its pendulum is no longer at work, what I want is a chance: a chance to persevere and attune myself. Yet I still see myself as a wandering stranger, desiring for something that seemed to be so near yet somehow impossible to attain. She’s someone I never wanted, but she’s someone I needed. I see her no longer as a stranger, not even friend, but an entity that surpassed the boundaries I limit myself with. Now, I could do nothing about it but expect the best or the worst. For she may never learn the essence of unbanding her tourniquets to let numbness vanish. And I don’t want to lose her by showing the truth, it would be too much. It’s not that she’s my property, but she’s already a part of me. Oh love, help me overcome fear, let her feel my pulse. Only love can make someone do all forms of insanity in life.

Sometimes I could see with clarity that I have no chance of succeeding. But even if I fail, as long as I would be able to let her feel what I wanted her to feel, it’s enough to give me serenity in my sleep; even if I succumb to failure, as long as I could show her how much she means to me, it’s enough to settle everything; and even if I have not been given the chance to show her these things, as long I won’t lose her, that, itself, is more than enough. I surrender into her arms, bold and defenseless. How I wished that I could feel her tender embrace, even if it can only be felt in dreams. My love is unrequited, the worst form of love one can imagine, the one-sided love. These unstable emotions are killing me softly, and… it hurts like hell. It's a matter of sacrifice, of withstanding the deathly daggers. I've been pierced by arrows and slashed by swords, but I have to stand up for her sake, for neither death nor life would send me back to the grave. My nights are no longer the same; but at least now I could say something interesting, that I love her with all my heart.

And indeed... it is very painful...yes...

But as long as I see her smiling... it’s worth the pain.