“In between talks on test administrations, personnel development, and merits of eating lechon, you remember this girl who always wanted to see you but you, being the bastard that you are, simply ignored her feelings till it’s too late.

You saw, through your mind’s eye how she’s there, sitting on her hospital bed while looking beyond the window, holding the cellphone in hopes that you might send her a message. She doesn’t want to bother you ever since you told her that you’re too busy these days, which was partly true. Except that there were opportunities that you could have visited her for the sake of making her happy. You told yourself what use would it be if you’ll force yourself to do it. You remember how one day she called at your house and you’re not home and how your dad was the one who answered the phone. You don’t know if you’ll laugh or be sad that she thought that your dad was you, since both of you have similar voices. You long to hear her complaints, aspirations, nonsense stories about her that she told your dad, and how she thanked your dad for being there. Except that all that time your dad pretended to be you. You cringe on how you received the news that she already passed away just when you’re planning to visit her. Just when you felt guilt avoiding her feelings, she left without saying goodbye. You told yourself that at least you’ll go to her funeral. But the stupid helper forgot to tell you that the internment was the day before and stupidly remembered it AFTER you were told by the girl’s mom that she was already buried. You felt that pang in your chest when one day you met her parents in the mall and how they told you stories of her last days, on how she waited for you to contact her, just to say hi, on how she tried hard to live just for your sake.

Rationality dictates that whatever you feel right now won’t change the fact that she’s already dead.

But it fucking hurts.”


~ by rosmant on May 19, 2010.

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