finally, i decided to take a walk that night--- alone.
avoiding the thoughts that my room maybe brewing agaion for me. i just find it difficult, nowadays, to digest all the things flying inside my head. its depressing and at the same time paralyzing.
i miss so many things.
i miss my innocence and anonimosity. i miss watching movies, reading and commuting alone. i miss appreciating small and taken for granted details; wondering and weaving stories behind them. i miss talking to myself over a cup of coffee or tea. or probably, i am just missing the old skin that i am currently shedding.
while walking, i just then realized that i have been living here in katipunan for almost four years now. its surprising for someone, who stayed under 12 roofs in baguio during college. i never really stayed in just one place that long.
but over the years, i just noticed how i am fascinated with the oppositions of the place. that despite the long march of high rise buildings and fancy restaurants, its always the shadows behind these luxuries that always grab my attention.
you see, theres no day that i pass by here that i do not cross a taong grasa or vagrant. in fact, i already loss count of their faces. I have already forgotten the names of men and women; old and young; silent and cheerful that i have assigned to each one of them. Unfortunately, just like me before, they've never stayed that long for me to remember them specifically. for they just simply come and go, without any concerns if they will be remembered or not. Thus, there faces eventually molded into a mere solitary figure.
the row of abandoned establishments at the end of the stretch, under the fly over going to katipunan extension, has always been their sanctuary. the place was as dark as their skin and drenching with this distinct musk coming out from their pores. but despite these, the place, most especially them, have remained invisible to everyone. no one was really braved enough to face the pity in their faces.
i remember, one day, seeing random things written in charcoal on each of their sanctuary’s walls. some were numbers, while some were unended stories about various things in this universe. yes, universe. Sometimes, i just catch myself surprised with such big words written there.
i wondered what they really meant. if they were about things they’ve met along their ways, or if they were just mere fragments of their memories or even the sanity that have long forgotten these people. well, it just break my heart to picture them finding their way back to this place again, claiming the only thing that they can call their own, already been washed away.
now, while back reading some of my past entries and writing this post at the same time, i then realized how lucky i am to have these means of keeping my memories. something, that they never really had. if only they can, i bet they can tell us one of the best stories ever been told to man, rather than these petty juvenile concerns that swarm us everyday. oh, if only they could be heard.
but who does? if in this selfless world, people would just refuse to listen, believing that the only things that matter and important, are there own lives revolving around how many times they’ve got laid and how much they have in their accounts.
if only these vagrants can read these notes. i bet, their immediate reactions will also be, who cares?!