It's a Sad Sad World...No More

Poetry rests

Once in a while,

poetry rests.

When the pen

tears and papers

fold, when the

day mourns under

the silence of the moon.

When darkness covers

an empty room. It

plagues.

***

The day started as it is. The smell of tocino and fried rice welcomed me into a typically warm Tuesday morning. I was worried last night because my computer suddenly gave in to the number of virus it has in its system. For a moment, it felt like it's the end of the world—it was a crazy night for me.

So I got up out of bed, fixed the beddings, stacked my pillows and headed to the bathroom. My usual routines follow.

I checked the clock and it was past 11 in the morning. That explains the warmer feel inside my room. It was a hot day, intensified by brighter skies and dustier streets and I didn't even expect it to be this sweat-dripping.

I charged my cellphone and went on to prepare for what I expected to be a good day.

After taking a refreshing bath, I decided to put on my black polo instead of the light blue long sleeves my mom prepared for me. I usually have the hardest time choosing what to wear on a particularly sunny and sultry afternoon. But, nothing is harder than fixing an ugly, curly and strangely pathetic hairdo. In 365 days, I fortunately live 60% of it having the baddest hair day. Good thing hair waxes and stuff that makes your hair less monstrous were available. Hide that hideous hair! I always tell myself. If Sue Sylvester were Filipino, I probably would keep my hair at least 5 meters away from her devilish comments.

And so enough with the hair. I unplugged my phone and finally, I was ready to go.

I said goodbye to papa and hurriedly got inside the tricycle. I've had everything in mind: the meeting I was about to attend, the documents I needed for my MA application, my escape book, and my keys. All were inside my blue and orange bag.

I usually take two jeepney rides, after the tricylce drops me at the nearest intersection. So I took the first one to pass by. I know I was going to be late so I was kinda hurrying not to miss the important details of the meeting and to avoid the nasty jokes of my friends.

The driver shouted in a demanding voice, "lipat na kayo sa kabilang jeep, kakain na ako!" What a jerk. Just when you needed a quick ride, then comes the irritating insistence of a jeepney driver to transfer to another ride. Ok, then.

So I transferred to the jeep parallel to the first one we had. Not bad. It was more decent and finally a nice and humane ventilation.

Finally, a chance to text my friends that I'm almost there. I was checking my bag when suddenly... BINGO! I didn't feel my phone on the left pocket of my bag. Tension entered my bloodstream. It was a quick decision of me to hand that ten peso coin I have on my hand, and in a few minutes I was in the opposite lane waving for that saving ride, rushed inside another jeep going back to where I started.

I kept checking and looking at the pockets of my bag. There was no sign. My only hope: I wish I left it at home. Still, I was tensioned. It felt like I was in a race against time. A race before inhumane fingers press my frightened little SIM card out of my phone and.... (it was a delusional ride).

The worst thing has happened to me, since that Ondoy and Maguindanao spectacle.

In few strides, I was at home and the only thing I can hear is my dad asking what happened and where I left my phone. I can't answer. I can't even think of answers. I was in denial of things. This is not happening. It's not. Not now. Not to me...

That was the second time. The first was equally depressing and soul-dampening.

I guess it was the immediate reaction of someone, who was left with nothing of the things or possessions he once had after years of hard work. It was the feeling of someone who was not prepared for such loss. Or probably, it was just how things work.

After calling my friends, (and they were laughing by the way, which kinda made me feel lighter and better) I realized that what I lost is not more that what I learned.

I learned that I put too much value on material things. I learned that things given will someday be taken by the one who gave it. One has to end, for the other to begin. One has to lose, to find something much more special and essential. And ultimately, cellphones need to be taken care of. XD

I am not happy, nor sad about what happened. I think I just understand better, what the Great One has always been teaching me and trying to continually remind me: Life goes on. It will go on.

I will just let every contact, every picture taken, every MP3 downloaded, every message—saved, sent, and recieved, remind the person who has in hand my phone right now that, we move in circles. That the things we do, measure the things we experience and the things we experience will make the person we want us to be.

Goodbye my phone. See you at the shops soon.

(-_-)!!!

PS. Donations of any kind are welcome. LOLS