MyBInaryWorld

I didn't know that the heart, even in death, is still susceptible to pain.

Last Wednesday you wore black. From head to toe. you wore black as a sign of your heart finally giving out it's last pulse for That Person. You wore black as a response to Aimar's quote about letting the feeling die. You wore black as a symbol of the decision to have your heart euthanized.You wore black to mourn. You wore black to signify the darkness of the night before the break of dawn.

You were noticeably happier that day. You were able to laugh. You were able to fight the urge to sulk. You triumphed over the need to talk about That Person. After all, the dead doesn't talk. The dead doesn't feel anymore. In short, you were already numb. Or so you thought.

The news didn't hit youas a surprise, you actually expected it one way or the other. That person is currently with Another Person. Another Person is That Person's newest fancy, a newly met teammate, that someone who captured That Person's heart. Who would've thought a single trip to Enchanted Kingdom could develop such a bond? And so the final stake was thrust, and you let your heart die.

So you lived that day quite happier with your newly found freedom. Death was sweet and very liberating. The ability to space-out has been an art you have always used, and this time you were able to use it to shield yourself from further pain.

Or so, you thought.

Pain is such a treacherous beast, it stalks you from behind and lunges when you least expect it, with torturous claws that cut, and killer fangs that tear. It will mutilate you to the tiniest bit and no amount of pleading can make it stop. That is pain. Pain is the ultimate tormentor.

And so pain still found a way to manifest itself to my already limp heart. It lingers until you can scream no more because you are already tired, and you learn to accept the pain. You still try to pretend your okay. Death should mean apathy. Death should mean that you no longer feel, that you no longer care.

The first day you tried, you declared not to have contact with that person again. You fought off the urge to text, to talk. But life has its way of messing you up, of all the people you will see first during your shift in the Call Center, it is That Person. And the pain still lingers. Your shift ended and That Person is still there. Consequently you learned that That Person is still there just to wait for Another Person. A fairy tale so sweet it tears your lifeless heart again and again. But you still managed to regain composure. No, the dead should already be numb.

You went to the Call Center the next day, still in black. You did not go to the Christmas Party because you have nothing to celebrate about. You are still in mourning, and most of all, seeing That Person and Another Person together will only make you feel worse than you already are. Yes, you are still mourning, but this time your walls are already cracked down. One final blow and it will crumble, flooding you again with all the carcasses of your past shattered hearts. Then, That Person came in with Another Person. You break down but you still managed to put up that "I'm OK" facade. Inside you want to cry but you thought people are already fed up with your extreme negativity. You opted to give them a breather while your chest feels tighter and tighter until you can no longer breathe.

Earlier this day you drank. Drinking is a great escape, even for a moment. It gives you courage for a time. You hoped that somehow it will numb your pain. You have very supportive friends. Although a little insensitive at times, talking about That Person and Another Person in front of you, you understand that the world does not revolve around you. Then That Person came down. You had to go. Carrying the casket of your heart away from the very person who took its life away. Your heart deserves at least a decent death. You didn't even say goodbye, you just walked past That Person. And then you are alone again.

Why do you blog this? Are you hoping that somehow, That Person will be able to read this? Do you hope that a series of paragraphs can make the difference?

No.

You blog because this is the only thing left to do. Your blog is your psychotherapy. Your blog is the only thing you know who understands and truly cares.You know that continuous rambling nurtures apathy.You know that the people around you gets tired of listening to the same things over and over again. So you turn to your blog. You turn words into forms approximating the battles happening inside you. You use words to heal. You use words to express. You use words to get over the pain because, words, like your dead heart, is all that you have left, the only thing that you have in the end.

Umm wla aq isue sa mga bi. .
Im cool wid dem as frnds

This was the last text I got from That Person. I didn’t really know what happened, what I asked, how the conversation went on. I was drunk, I didn’t know what to do, and I guess the alcohol flooding my body to the tiniest capillary gave me the courage I have so long yearned for.

Our shift in the Call Center ended like the usual, physically I felt a little spent, emotionally a little frustrated for reasons ranging from customers calling me “Ma’am” to the pressure of being heckled by irate callers. The day ended (in reality, the day started, but it’s a call center, so it’s different) and I felt I wasn’t ready to go home yet. No, not yet.

I have never been so emo all my life since four years ago. You may not believe it but I am aware of that fact. I’m still learning to control it but really, when it comes to the matters of the heart, I’m the most vulnerable person you’ll ever meet.

I seldom fall in love, I mean as in fall in love, and not some puny crushes along the way. I have learned to handle infatuations, so if you see me ogling at some guy or girl, it’s probably being more of infatuation than love. When I start to fall to a person, I seldom talk about it until I’m already immersed all the way through.

That message was the final blow I had in recent time. After the shift, not wanting to go home yet, I persuaded some accomplice to a bacchanalia. Okay, it was more of a petty drinking session in tapa king just on the lower ground floor of the Call Center. There were originally five of us, MC, Nat, Selle, Maj and I. But last minute, Nat had to go and so there were four of us. Then we saw Aimar, my ever reliable confidante (who by now I can only assume gets irritated whenever I talk to her about the same thing over and over again. Peace out Aimar =]) who is more than willing to join us. So again, there were five.

On the way to withdraw some cash, I ran across Ket, one of our local higher-ups on the floor. I invited her and she agreed. She didn’t drink though, because she has her guy fetch her there. So after getting some cash, I ordered one tower of draft beer and two plates of sizzling sisig. This is the first time I’m getting really drunk outside the house with friends.)

The conversations went on from our frustrations over the calls we got to a lot of things, I was hoping to forget about That Person but to no avail. Until I couldn’t help it anymore and asked their advise. The conversation went again to the debate about That Person’s real orientation. Then my real orientation. It was indeed a night of orientations. Then the beer started to kick in, and I tell you it’s not as bad as they make it to be. Aside from having difficulty walking straight, and a nagging throb in the head, I’m fine. Selle pointed out that I’m a little talkative, but hey that’s the real me all right. Ask my school dudes about it. I talk a lot.

That night, one of our wave mates’ wife gave birth. By the time we finished our drinking spree at around eight am, I received a text from That Person. It‘s about our wave mate who has now became a daddy. This is where the alcohol hit in, I think. I started to be conversational. This is not the usual me, I usually test the waters for a reply. But here, I was the one who initiated. I didn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but we finally had a conversation. I told That Person I was being scolded by my BF. I even corrected myself by saying ex-BF. I waited for a response, nervously, thinking not to receive a reply. I was already in the cab when my phone vibrated. It was That Person. We are actually having a conversation. Our talk ranged from “Why are you still friends with your ex?” to the quote I have written at the very start of this article. And then it stopped.

I have never been in love with a straight guy. Never. Honestly. The usual types I fall for are the effeminate ones, and that is especially because I want to be the one who is dominant in the relationship. But this is different. I didn’t even saw it coming. He didn’t get my attention at all during the first part of our training in the Call Center. It was only in the latter part, where I got some mixed signals that I might have just misinterpreted. Silly me. Stupid me. I shouldn’t have felt weird when you enveloped your arms around my shoulders asking me to go to Star Dust. I shouldn’t have taken seriously the compliments you’ve given me. But then again, why does everybody ask about your orientation if there is really nothing to it? Why do I feel for you when in my head all is set - - You are straight?

It’s hard to love a rock. Every pleading won’t move you. Nothing would, but you.

I think though that you are starting to notice. I hope you are getting at least the faint picture. But then again I wish you haven’t yet. I wouldn’t want to tarnish the relationship the whole wave has just for this. That would be too selfish of me. And I don’t want to be the laughingstock for the majority of our guy friend’s chauvinistic tendencies. I would really like acknowledgment, but the risk might be too high..

I never felt that loving for the LGBT community would be hard. I tried looking for an alternative, a rebound person if you may, but it was all in vain. In the end it did not suffice, I just ended up hurting another person. I guess I wouldn’t know how this would really end. While some fairytales are written such that happy endings are the staple conclusions, I’m afraid I’m still writing my own. With every fickle attempt to put pen on paper, I am afraid where the strokes of the pen would take me. But I sure hope it would make me a better person.

And so yesterday love succeeded on killing me again.

We were coursing through Katipunan avenue on the way to the Jr NBA event when I felt something weird. Call it foresight or even intuition, but I did think something not right is going to happen. It did.

My plan for that day was to go to the Jr NBA event, then go to a popular club with my wavemates from the call center and then continue on to an overnight in a classmate's house in Antipolo where we were supposed to do some strenuous academic activities. The second one I mentioned didn't happen.It didn't help that I had only two hours of sleep the previous night.

It didn't help that that day alone I already spent a huge sum of money tipping taxis to take me wherever I want to go. It didn't help, most of all, that That Person stopped talking to me. No, it didn't help at all.

Jr NBA was quite a rhetoric in the sense that all I did was score the players in all the four sets of five games each, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. It was a vicious cycle of addition and optical precision. I felt like a solar powered calculator as the November sun peered through the glass facade of SM Marikina. But all those time my mind was fixed on That Person. What should I wear? I wore my usual number when going to parties. I was resigned to the fact that due to the location of the games, going home to freshen up would be an impossibility. My two orgmates who were with me then remained oblivious to all the battles happening inside my head. After all, we don't want to be shouted upon again by our Singaporean 'boss' who thinks he bought us whole.

So the day passed, even Benjie Paras asking me favors to let his sons join some of the games didn't fascinate me at all. Even Rico Robles was a witness to how I daydreamed at times, pausing for a while before giving the score to him as he announces it to the crowd. San Sebastian coach Jolly Escobar waived at me the score while I stared blankly into space.

Then the day was done.

Pau and chekay (my two orgmates) agreed to help me find a nice pair of shoes to complete my outfit. And then a text message was sent. It was from Gheli, which was forwarded from Jap, the 'key' person for that party. It went like "no collars not allowed..." and then some. I didn't know where I got it but I somehow felt that it was some cosmic sign from above asking me not to go. I brushed it off.

SM Marikina was humongous but essentially it contained shops I could count with my fingers and toes. We tried to choose some sneakers and other footwear that would compliment my attire but everytime I tried one, there is nothing my size. I'm a size nine. It should'nt have to be this hard to find one. And the nagging feeling again that something is keeping me from coming..

In the end, I tried to analyze everything. If there is something in this world that I'm good at, that's analyzing things. Or rather sometimes, over-analyzing things. Pau did the final blow by asking me, "What do you intend to achieve by going?" It echoed through the whole vastness of my being. Yuck, I'm being poetic. What indeed do I intend to achive by going? Am I seriously hoping that a few bottles of beer can make That Person finally feel for me?

We sat down inside a little brownies store for a while. And we went to grab some coffee from that mermaid coffee shop. My only consolation were the two stickers I got for their planner. But I was not that interested in that either.I never usually sulk in front of other people, that's why when I talk of depression no one believes me. But this was different. They started to notice.

In the end I decided not to go. Finally we coursed through the mall until closing. We accompanied Pau in a cab to her friend in Ortigas to pass time because she forgot the keys to her unit. Chekay and I decided to go to Antipolo as planned. The thought of transcripts to be made from an FGD conducted earlier gave me the thought that It would probably veer away my thoughts from That Person for a while.

The earlier taxi gave up on us after extorting P350. He said he has no gas. He even pointed to the red light flashing from his dashboard. I have been educated enoough though to know rthat the flashing red light meant a door is still open. He didn't want to go to Antipolo, that's the bottomline there. We hailed another taxi then at the Riverbanks, and I felt my chest become heavier and heavier. It's as if a fist has been clutching it tighter and tighter. Until I can no longer breathe, I just asked the driver to turn off the lights.

I tried my best not to sound upset for Chekay. After all, we all deserved some rest aftrer an exhausting day and the looming thought of academic work waiting for us. I let her sleep at the back while I sobbed silently beside the driver. I know he noticed that I kept on rubbing my eyes with my hanky, but I guess not all Filipinos are Uzis.

The road to Antipolo is rather depressing, with a certain road left lightless except for the headlights of passing cars and occassional houses. I've never felt so down in my life. Especially after thinking that the Call Center environment would do good for my social and romantic being. That, sadly, was a misconception.

The cab cut its trip and Chekay and I were riding a somewhat metamorphosed tricycle, enlarged to enable longer rides. The deafening music of the vehicle only worsened the gripping feeling, the cold night air flooding my lungs. I was aware of the coldness, And I felt all alone again...

The PLM PRSP Chorale. Bayang Magiliw... Handa -- Awit!!!

Ma'am! Sir! Bili na kayo! Murang-mura lang po BARGAIN po BARGAIN!

San ko kaya ipapadry clean ang makinang naming damit?! Ipapasuot ko ito sa santo namin sa fiesta!

Ako po si Eagle Man! At hindi po nagbbreakfast si EAGLE MAN! 

Wowowee sinong di mawiwiliiiiii, sa costume na ito kami ay nagsisisi!!!! (ang mahal kasi)

I'm gonna start out blunt. WTF is with this GM (general message. Not GreenMinds. Not PRAdSter's GenMeet)?! I mean really, it starts to annoy me. Wait, it is actually annoying me now. My cellphone is not your personal journal. I ain't saving your messages for further retrieval! I can't remember any time that I subscribed to daily digests of your personal life. You're like FANATXT that comes without the need for registration. Damn with these updates!I don't give a damn about:


- What you ate for breakfast; (I also had mine and it's far tastier than yours)

- Who you saw across the street while you were going to class in a drizzly morning; (Why would I want to know if I don't know him in the first place)

- Why you forgot your homework; (Yes, its your fault, nothing to do with me)

- What you talked about with another friend; (If it's supposed to be a secret between the two of you, then why are you telling it to your whole phonebook?)

- What your prof wore today; (It's a free country. That's still UP even if its in the mountains, expect eccentric fashion. [Enter Sir A from broad dept: Is that UP enough?])

- What your other prof wore today; (Same comment as the previous one)

- What you wore today; (You always wear a blouse and jeans. Everyday.)

- What your groupmates wore today one by one; (Are you planning on transferring to Diliman and taking up Clothing Technology?)

- Why one of your groupmate's breath smell like rotten tuna; (Did you consider that it might be you?)

- Why your crush didn't look back at you; (Probably he also got fed up of your texts)

- Why you forgot to bring your wallet; (Expecting a western union money transfer from me?)

- What you ate for lunch; (Same as the breakfast part)

- Why your boyfriend ceased to text you; (Maybe you sent him that part about your crush not looking back. He's part of your GM list right?)

- Why you can't lick your elbows; (It's one of natures greatest mysteries. Ask the universe)

- Who was your friend who reportedly talks behind your back; (Guess who?)

- Why professors give unreasonable requirements; (Ask them, do I look like a professor to you?)

- Why the rain kept pouring when you forgot to bring your umbrella; (Call PAG-ASA. Ask if the weather can bear a grudge. Do you also send them GMs?)

- Why you got wet in the rain when you have a paper to rush; (Everything becomes wet when in contact with water. Apparently, you ran through the street hoping that the rain cannot soak moving bodies)

- What you ate for merienda; (I thought you left your wallet? Where do you get your money for the food?)

- Why the jeepneys are full on your way back to the boarding house; (Ever heard of the term 'rush hour'?)

- Why the person in front of you in the jeepney looks like a robber; (Maybe because you're waving your cellphone in front of him)

- Why the driver won't give you a student discount; (You forgot your wallet. In it is your ID and without it you look just like any other civillian)

- Why you found out your wallet is in your bag all along; (Call it a consequence of not being thorough)

-What you ate for dinner; (Same comment as the previous ones on lunch)

-Why I texted you [NAME]* OFF (Get a clue! I did not subscribe to you!) So please I hope you get the idea. It's okay if you do it once in a while but an hourly update is just annoying. Peace out.

*In the interest of privacy, I would not reveal her name here. But if another day goes by and two dozen of her messages get into my inbox, I'll GM her name to all of you.