ECHOES Litfolio: It's Complicated

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Theme Description Para kay

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Poems and Songs Unsaid As I Look At You 13 Sticks but Always Back to 1 56 Fortune 57 Gathering 58 Hapdi I Hate You 59 Key in Tree Name My Paper-Ink Existence Poem 1 Reasons Second April Sex Without Love Status Thank You, Edgar Allan Poe The Mender To be trapped by a woman’s incapacity To what I’m feeling Who would have thought...

Why You Never Saw This Coming You Weren’t a Fallacy 8 Minutes ...

Hey Untitled

Short Stories Blue Rose Family Matters Kiss When He Fell Photographs Fast It Could Have Been Better Contributors

Para ito sa ‘di mapakali at naghihintay pa rin sa sandali na tuluyan nang magwawakas ang pamba-bahala sa bukas.

Para ito sa umiibig na pinupuslit sa himig o sa papel at tinta ang lihim na iniingatan.

Unsaid

Anonymous I know she knows That whenever I look into her eyes I want to look into her whole being I know she knows That whenever I touch her cheek I want to touch her soul I know she knows That whenever I hold her hand I want to hold her heart I know she knows That whenever I tell her I love her I wish she could love me back

As I Look at You I.A.

Those eyes Tell me stories of wonders and I wonder why I become stumped and lose control Of all the things I believed before And one thing I wish from you is Please stop looking at me like that.

Those words Linger in my head like dancing away From all shame and I think They work well when you mean them And when I know what they mean.

I used to feel numb And I’ve been thinking that Why not take my chances Let everything fall into places And fall for you.

Yesterday was a long-lived memory It meant nothing because You were nothing then And today is everything I never thought of What I wished all my life.

13 Sticks but Always Back to 1 LikeAFoojin

“I started the habit cause it made me happy. I never really understood it when people told me they did it cause they were stressed.”

I flip it open, pull one out and reinsert it in reverse.

My second is my first.

1 stick I breathe in deeply, holding it in like the feeling that haunts me.

It’s the first time I’ve taken one without a drink to accompany it.

My head feels light and I exhale, wishing that all the ill leave with the smoke.

It doesn’t.

I finish. And light another.

2 sticks I try to push it out of my mind, wishing it would all just go away.

Only my second and the evening’s still young.

My friend asks me why I feel so out of it.

It’s going to be a long, long night.

I finish. And light another.

3 sticks I know this isn’t what I want; I’m not feeling any better.

But that’s exactly it. I’m doing this not to be happy.

My chest heaves at the thought of where I’m going.

I wonder to myself why I’ve made this resolution.

I finish. And light another.

4 sticks I run the words through my mind in a repeating monotonous symphony.

Problems have come and gone and I’ve dealt with them before without doing this.

She asks: “Why start now?” A two-word ostinato begins to play in response.

“Why not?”

I finish. And light another.

7 sticks I feel like I skipped over my last two.

Feels dry without a drink but the cold air and company keeps me going.

She’s shared a couple in the pack. It’s comforting to know I won’t finish it all alone.

But even if she wasn’t here I’d carry on.

I finish. And light another.

13 sticks I look up at the night sky. There’s no moon tonight.

Don’t ask the time. It’s moved so slowly as I go fly by so fast.

Whatever reason they tell you when you ask them “Why?” Don’t ever believe them. They’re lying.

I finish. And light another.

I’ve lost count.

Only to find myself back at one. First stick.

I take it between my fingers and close my eyes and ponder.

There is only one thing we wish for in the depths of our hearts and There is only one reason for a feeling such as this.

I wish for both. For you. For happiness. Your happiness.

Admit it. You all wish for this too. All the time.

I open another pack and find myself at 1 once again.

Fortune tivoli

Turning over the cards of fate, The Queen of Hearts appears to me.

Out of reach.

In too deep.

Woe for me.

Again I reach and shuffle quick Hoping my Queen comes closer to me.

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Gathering Ralph Dantes

If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not.

And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot.

If to miss, were merry, And to mourn were glad How very blithe the fingers That gathered this today.

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Sa

Aking Pagkabata Habang naglalaro Ako ay biglang nadapa Dahil sa sakit na nadama Palayaw na pag-iyak aking pinak’walan

Ngunit ‘di nagtagal pinunas ang tubig Luha’y kay daling nauwi sa sigla Ngayon aking tinitingnan ang sarili Sa salamin ako’y nagmuni-muni

Ako ay muling umiiyak Ngunit ang sugat na nadarama

Ay hindi na dulot pa Ng Dapa.

Hapdi

Anonymous

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I Hate You Anonymous

I hate that you talk to me everyday.

I hate that I always check if you’re online or not, and click your name immediately if you are.

I hate that I always look for you after class.

I hate that you laugh at all my jokes.

I hate that you’re so nice to me.

I hate that you bring me home, even if I don’t need a ride.

I hate that you hug me at the most random times.

I hate that smile of yours that always makes my day.

I hate that you say, “I love you” to me and not mean it in that way.

I hate that you don’t and I do.

Okay, I’m lying. I don’t hate you, I never can.

I just wish I could hate you so it wouldn’t hurt so much.

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Key in Tree tivoli

Farewell to the sky and to all that glimmered in front mine eyes.

For everything has lost its lustre Immeasurable Worth Of your company I sought, Found, Forsaken, For another holds the key to your garden.

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Name

Mads Salazar It was difficult But there are no more mistakes They know who I love

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My Paper-Ink Existence Avril Bries

My words are little more than broken lines on dragonfly wings and two-penny wishes on stars that never learned to fall; or yet again halfway dreams hanging from puppet strings.

But never just words; either I write for more, or not at all.

People are compilations of what they’re expected to be; pragmatic paper dolls in sky-castles, hand-in-hand, trapped inside the bell jar of what they call “reality”, their heads filled with pretensions they can’t understand.

This is my fragile flight carried by crumbling whispers of an anthem inside the heads of all we runaways and escapists; our words are our prayers for the condemned to this humdrum everyday of the afterthoughts and what-should-have-beens cluttered with man-made machines and clichés plastered with squiggles and unintelligible grins vandalizing the vacuum that begs for a phrase to be written across the desuetude and wasted edges that hold nothing inside.

Strange how emptiness can be so crude when it’s filled with tears we never bothered to cry.

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They say we’re crazy; maybe we’re the only ones sane.

There’s nothing wrong in dancing to a muse we prefer unheard— so let me make it clear; this is all quite (un)explained because the only truth I have is what I put down in the words; but no one seems to care for preaching and poems.

They’d rather get a living than have hopes or revelations inside their little Barbie world contained in plastic domes hard and shiny like hearts that produce blood but not emotions.

Why remain in your Novocain slipstream of simulated love and dead-end vocations?

If you start your life at the end of a dream, your squinted eyes will only blur the visions that remain if you can pick them up from the shards; blood or none, still I hold to validate my existence instead of being a victim in this shaky house of cards— from the captured into the captor with a final sentence.

Don’t give me sleeping pills because I refuse to close my eyes.

In a parallel world my paper-ink heart may be dead but in this one I choose to live and dream instead so leave me to hold onto this pedestal floating above your lies.

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Poem 1

Enzo Clemente A place where few have been before With only myself as a guide Who would have thought that it would be my paradise?

Soaring high above the mountains Passing through rocky roads and steep ways Seeing things I could have never imagined I ask myself, Am I still alive?

Walking through forests, not knowing where it will lead I can only rely on my loved ones for aid Putting our minds together, We took the risk and saw nature’s gifts.

Seeing the blue skies at day Amazed by the view of bright tiny spots at night Together with new and old friends, We wish upon stars for it to never end.

But as the sun rises and gives us a brand new day, We are torn apart, not wanting to put an end.

Drops of water falling, warmth of bodies from all directions, Reminiscing, longing for the same journey one more time

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Reasons Anonymous

I love you - because you get me when no one else does. I’m not afraid to tell you anything because you won’t judge me. I’m not capable of doubting you.

You don’t always reply but I know you’re listening. You can tell me that I’m wrong and make me believe it. You’re capable enough but you can still make room for me to be able to help you.

I love you. Because, I never needed a reason to. I just do.

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Second April Ralph Dantes

April this year, not otherwise Than April of a year ago, Full of whispers, full of sighs, Of dazzling mud and grimy snow; Flowers that pleased you so Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day, And blocks lie about the doors; In orchards near and far away The grey wood-pecker taps and bores; The men are merry at their chores, And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep, Noisy and hasty the small brooks run.

Among the meadow stalks the sheep Go up the hillside in the sun, Pensively, only you are gone, you alone that I cared to keep.

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Sex Without Love Avril Bries

Pillow talk, like every other language reasons not in words but in the context.

Love and lust hold the same items, but it’s how you use them that really matters: the bivalve roundness, the secret pink shell of secrets that you consume but do not comprehend, the hands that learn of sensitivity but not of soul, the mouth that maps the contours of heat without heart—these complicated nuances make the difference in our definition: lovers, partners by convenience, an obsession, an experiment, a mutual understanding (why then do I fail to comprehend this schadenfraude addiction, this taking advantage?).

You never read between the lines, only between my legs—then your weight rolls off mine. There you have the story, beginning and end.

It is movement like this which reminds me that there are corpses in the ground, lonely flesh, soundless bodies made of sticky clay, emptier than the graveyards they reside in; this same nihilism lays in the sheets beneath us, soaked swollen with the smell of suppressed emotions and untamed motions, stained white like an ironic portrait of innocence.

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Status

Anonymous I wonder why we learn To be lonely when we already found our Special someone.

Commitment? Who needs that?

Only you is all I need My heart misses you when you’re away Please stay.

Loving you is forbidden but I’m willing to face the risk, break the rules Can we graduate now And live the rest of our lives Together?

Everyone’s asking what we are Do we really need to answer them now?

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Thank you, Edgar Allan Poe the Biggest Fan

Keeping me away and astray because thoughts do linger Be in my head all day and never let yourself go Kill the time for time will heal itself, it won’t care for you and me What time can lead us is something far from the reality I begin to say, it will stay this way.

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The Mender tivoli

If your heart would be broken by another, come to me and I’ll pick it up, tape it so, and give it back to you.

But if ever your heart would be broken by me, come close and with nary a tear I’ll pluck mine out hand it to thee and whisper in your ear.

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To be trapped by a woman’s incapacity Allthingsarcane

I am trapped by a woman’s incapacity And forever silenced by my longing for you.

I am never to utter the first word As we cannot be too forward nor too rash.

I can only wait, be still, for you, Send up my wish to the smiling sky Then dream quietly of your music Grazing the inside of my cheeks, But awake with a flourishing sea That blocks my vision.

I am never to recite to you my odes.

Only in this cold a night, when my innards shiver, Can I speak louder than the brightest moon.

Stirring my soul, not yours Nothing could be worse than My province being shook by your beauty, Battlefields won and lost inside my skin, But my exterior kept hushed and motionless.

(My affliction can never be cured, Unless you grow an affliction too.)

Not a love unrequited can be worse than To be trapped by a woman’s incapacity And forever silenced by my affections for you.

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To what I’m feeling Reuel Realin

No I cannot say I love you and whatever happens this friendship is much worth than being lovers the memories we have shared and the moments we have treasured it will never be for wasted efforts forget that I’m willing to take a risk I do not wish that one day I could lose you and by saying such “I love you” becomes “I like you”

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and my heart will never ask questions when the time it does when it has grown into something else and the only thing to say to this friendship is Yes.

Yes the only thing to say to this friendship is when it has grown into something else and when the time it does my heart will never ask questions and “I like you” becomes “I love you” by saying such one day I could lose you and I do not wish that it’s a risk that I’m willing to take Forget wasted efforts it will never be for we have treasured the moments and we have shared the memories being lovers is much worth than this friendship whatever happens I love you and I cannot say No

To what I’m feeling Reuel Realin

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Who Would Have Thought…

The Terms of Endearment

Who would have thought that I could truly say that I feel your pain?

Who would have thought that I’d wish you didn’t have to? Hoping that you never needed to? Praying that I’m wrong about it all.

Who would have thought that I’d ever accept it? Happiness; Not that I will not but it’s because that I cannot. Dreaming, I could be, but truth is I’m not the one.

Who would have thought that I’d stand here naked?

Who would have guessed that I thought you were the one who could tear these walls down around me?

No one would have ever known that you’d be the reason to make them stronger.

Thank you, you taught me a lesson only you could ever teach. Now who would have thought of that?

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Why?

Anonymous I am not the most beautiful girl I wouldn’t even consider myself attractive I don’t know what you saw in me And I just can’t understand why you like me I am not the most caring girl I even punch your face very often Even if you’re physically hurting Why are you still staying up with me?

I am not the most intelligent girl I can’t even express myself well Compared to you? You’re oh so great!

Why’d you even talk to me in the first place?

I am not the prettiest, sweetest, smartest But why do you love me?

I don’t deserve such perfect love Yet I can’t help myself but love you too

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You Never Saw This Coming LikeAFoojin

“For every boy who’s ever found themselves inexplicably enamored with special girl who’s passed your way. You never saw this coming.”

She takes your breath away Entering the room like butterflies and hurricanes Roaring beauty in the whispers of her moving motions Eyes alluring, enchanting, captivating Never had a chance the moment she walked in Devastating everything you thought you ever knew of Inspirations, aspirations, and what dreams may come Prudence would have been the practical course of action Instead, unprepared, off-guard, and taken completely by surprise This perfection dreamed into existence has taken your heart You were doomed from the start

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You Weren’t a Fallacy Kenneth Reyes

where have you gone to my dear? where do you sleep? in a waterfall, between asteroids under my eyelids and across my street you were as real as the planets on my bed and we are destined for nothing no fire, no sacrifice no limits there your fingernails, your stare the syntax of your hair forget the panic room let’s call it a day no, let’s call it a life i only sing KTV and even then i would not sing for you i can’t be your knight so i be your snake don’t fidget as i hold you stay steady my dear how do i explain this? all words are gone everything falls away

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8 minutes Anonymous

I stand alone on the shore today Gazing across the still, silent sea that before me lay I look back 2 days ago, you were here with me It was 8 minutes to 6, maybe.

We were sitting quietly, it was dusk already Picturesque, but no doubt, it didn’t equal your beauty The sea breeze blew against me sadly And made me long for the warmth your embrace

gave me If I could I would have held hands with you But I didn’t want you to let go Now just 3 minutes to six, motionless on that spot “Why doubt our love? Why now, my dear?”

I pulled you close and whispered in your ear Together we’ll risk, we’ll battle our fears I will be there to dry your tears 1 last minute to 6, you finally looked at me You’re really going, your chestnut eyes are telling me I wanted you to stay But I loved you too much, I let you have your way I stand alone on the shore today Wondering, what if you didn’t go away I look back at our memories and cry ‘cause after everything, 8 minutes were all it took for

you to say goodbye 32

...

Patty Bucao

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Hey

words and music by WillJ Sarmiento Verse: I don’t have sweet sickening lines that talk about how you should be mine.

All I have is my sincerity.

And it all played back just now in my head, all the words that I could’ve just said Coz what came out was a mystery to me (it was like) Chorus: Hey How you doin? Where you goin?

Can I come too, but did you know?

That I’ve fallen for you Are you up yet, how’d you sleep?

Have you had lunch yet do you wanna eat?

This is how I say, I’ve fallen for you

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Verse: I tell myself that this is the day.

I’ve built up the courage to finally say just how much you truly mean to me.

So I walk up to you with a smile on my face, a pep in my step like I own the place.

Open my mouth so you can finally hear, how i feel (I was like) [Chorus] Bridge: I may not ever tell you, how I truly feel.

But take my word for it... falling in love is real [Chorus]

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Untitled

words and music by Simone Carpio So many thoughts have crossed in my mind Don’t really know how to face reality Time and space... Memories have passed But all the more the questions grow vast Unsure of the past that brought me to now What remains clear is the future of doubt Why am I in this kind of position?

I hope I make the right decision Chorus: Give me a sign Show me the way For confusion has overcome me I don’t know how to deal with it I’m grasping for the truth This feeling’s getting the best of me

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My head is filled with uncertainty It’s complicated, can’t you see?

I can’t seem to make up my mind These life-changing answers I need to find Chorus Bridge: I don’t know what to believe anymore Or even who to trust, what’s that for?

The pain in my heart, is it possible?

I feel broken now I’m vulnerable Chorus

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Blue Rose

Ancilla Inocencio They say that dreams do come true, that dreams are supposed to give you hope for what tomorrow might bring. However, you are bound to not like all of your dreams.

Some dreams are beautiful yet some are a little traumatic. But if to dream a dream is better than to dream nothing at all, and the world in your dreams ends up being better than this world, would you still want to wake up?

We were young when he was courting me. Classes already ended and I was left alone to wait for our driver. He suddenly came with a blue rose, all dressed up and looking very handsome. As a symbol of love and prosperity, the blue rose caught my attention. It does not exist in nature, but seeing it made everything feel magical. It enchanted my heart as it was almost like a wand that swayed to make this fairy tale happen.

We were practicing for prom when the girls outnumbered the boys. Being the tallest girl in the class, I had to wait for a boy to come back from his previous partner to be my partner. The big day came and I, once again, was left alone while waiting for my partner to run back for me. Looking all worried, I was starting to feel self-pity. But then he came running like a hero ready to rescue his damsel in distress. He came back for me even though he was not my actual partner. I’d hate to think it, but it felt like destiny gave us a chance to walk through that balloon arch and red carpet together.

A year came by so fast and we already graduated. We parted ways as he studied where his dad teaches while I went with the university of my dreams. We never saw each other since then. We used to have common friends who we spend time with, but birthdays came by and he never showed up. He didn’t even show up in his best friend’s birthday.

“If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies,” and for his case, time has truly changed him. He probably had moved on with his college life or he might have forgotten about his past. Whatever his reasons may be, I still kept the blue rose he gave me.

We were on a college field trip when we accidentally met. Our eyes met and talked but no words came from our mouths, not even a simple greeting. Several scenes started to flood my mind; each and every one had him in it. I just couldn’t understand how he manages to linger in my mind while simple college topics can’t. He has truly made his mark in me and unfortunately, he used a permanent ink.

Memories with him suddenly started to fade into the background as I strived to remember them all. They started to disappear like magic, as if nothing ever happened.

My blue rose turned into ashes and was blown away with the wind. Those ashes and 39 those memories were all gone in a split second. But in the first place, were they even real?

A blue rose does not exist in nature, were my memories not existent as well? I started to feel pain in my chest as my eyes start to open with tears coming out. The feeling was not at all surreal, though it felt magical. Unfortunately, it was all a dream; a bittersweet, fictional dream.

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Family Matters

By Sieg Alegado

I sat there waiting for some divine being to clear up my head. I sat there like the way I sat there since undergraduate school. With a mug of macchiato on my hand and Dunhill on the other I stayed on the porch.

The breeze embraced my body as I cuddled myself in search for relief. With my arms around my legs, one hand clasped on the mug and a cigarette in between the fingers of the other I looked up the sky in search for answers. What was life for? I wondered. I wondered, just the way I wondered for years. I sat there thinking about the bitter past, the restless present, and the uncertain future. I sat there—and this voice came. And no it wasn’t God’s.

“Hey!” Papa said, “I was right thinking you’re in the porch. You spend most of your nights here. I always wondered what’s in here that you are so fond about.”

I didn’t want to mind him. He has been always like that. Annoying, that is. He never failed to zoom in at the pinnacle of my emotional moments. One in particular that I remember intensely was when I locked myself at my room way back in senior high after seeing Mama and Papa fight. Seeing them, for the first time, hurl up words against each other was just too much for me to handle. Alone in my room I shouted my heart out. I was mad. I thought of how fun it would be to be born in another family. I declared how I didn’t want to be a part of the chaos. And I wished they weren’t my family.

I didn’t know that Papa unlocked the door. He butted in. He butted in just the way he butted in on my tantrums when I was six. “Did you ever think if we ever wished you weren’t our son?” Papa asked. That was a blow that hit me like a thousand cannon balls hitting a ship. We had that talk. It was the only time I remember the two of us talk like crazy. We talked about love, life, and dreams. But we never talked about the family.

A family matter was something the family never talked about. Something we never brought up.

I took a sip at the mug and asked, “Pa, why are you still awake? It’s past twelve. Don’t you have a meeting with Di-pe tomorrow morning?” Yes, Di-pe—Tito Bert. Alberto Gotauco the restaurateur, the restaurant tycoon.

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“We cancelled the meeting. It seems he has to run some errands. Bert, he’s always like that. Cancels meetings on such a short notice,” Papa replied, “Can we talk? I want to talk to you for some time now.”

“We are talking Pa. And what’s with me that you’re suddenly interested in?”

“I just want some father-son bonding. I just want to know what you have been up to lately,” he said as he lit a cigarette using the lighter I placed on the coffee table, “So, how’s life been going kiddo?”

Kiddo, the way he said kiddo made me feel like a toddler wanting some meager attention from his dad. It made me feel like an orphan desiring his parents’ goodnight kiss on the forehead.

“Crazy, that’s how my life has been since college. It’s like a road trip gone wild. I love it!”

“You’re still full of sarcasm. Eh, kiddo?” he said as he puffed white smoke that dried out my vision of him, “By the way, Bert asked me about where you plan to hold your exhibit.”

“Why did he ask?”

“He knows this fine gallery in Bonifacio High Street. He can book that for you, for fee.

He said you can talk to him at your brother’s party.”

“Really, he’ll do that? Did I do something nice?”

“You’re the talk of the town. Bert’s friends keep on asking about you ever since your photography was featured in that lifestyle magazine show.”

“Wow, this family really has a knack for showing the world how warm and perfect we are.

Why bother? It’s not as if I’m a Bar topnotcher like Mark.”

Our family seemed to be happy. Papa being a successful entrepreneur, with a grocery chain in Cavite and other ventures with Di-pe, was a good provider. Mama, on the other hand, could win best homemaker of the century. She kept the house so tidy that at one point 42 it seemed we wouldn’t need house help anymore. She prepared packed lunch for

Mark and me up until our undergrad days. And she grew the nicest orchids in the village.

Mark and I were doing well in school. Mark, of course, was the better of us two garnering awards in national debate and speech competitions. The four of us were always present at the village church on Sundays. And both Mama and Papa always attended our school affairs. Everything appeared to be perfect at the exterior. But in the interior everything was crippling.

“Bar topnotch or not, we are proud of you Anton.”

“Please Pa. A law school dropout, chain smoker, confused artist for a son, a brother, a nephew. All of you must really be proud.”

“Well, you’re unique.”

“Are you joking? Pa, please don’t even try to sound like one cool dad.” But he was and is a cool dad, at least that’s what my friends say. For the love of God, he wears the latest trends like he is working in fashion house, and his gym buddy is Mark. And back in high school he asked for Eminem’s 8 mile album for a Christmas gift. I thought—what on earth is wrong with my father? Shouldn’t he be asking for Barbara Streisand’s or Neil Diamond’s greatest hits album, instead?

During a road trip to Pagudpud one summer, Pa and Mark were listening to Slapshock.

Mark banging his head like the passenger seat was a rock concert venue and Pa, my God, roaring out the lyrics like he was Jon Bon Jovi gone nuts. I was at the back seat hoping we reach the resort a soon as possible and get my ass out of the Expedition. And Mama was looking out the window like she was anticipating the cry of the ocean caused by the crashing of waves.

Mama was always like that on our family trips, always sitting quietly looking out the windowpane. I had always wanted to strike in with random remarks about the trip or anything that concerns the world and our petty lives. But I never did. With Papa and Mark having their loud moments, I found it sensible that the two of us had our quiet ones. Yin-Yang, that’s just the way it should be.

“That’s a knock-out Anton. I’m absolutely happy you’re opening up. Sweet Jesus, I thought it would take you forever before you speak your mind,” he said.

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“If there is one thing I learned from law school that is to speak my mind,” I said as I took in a little smoke.

“Do you know that I met your mom in law school?”

“Law school? The two of you attended law school?”

“Well, yes. Your mom was always in the library. To tell you frankly, I never really wanted to stay at the campus library. I never liked to see the sections cramped with students cramming, sleeping probably after cramming or taking an exam, and killing time reading news magazines that piled up from those years that passed by. I never liked waiting for a few minutes until somebody got bored or exhausted on whatever he or she was doing and vacate one of those carrels. But all the boys were in the library, stalking her. So I was there all afternoon. One day we were invited to this party a sorority organized. Your mom was part of it, so we obliged. Everybody was drunk that night, including me and your mom. And everything that followed came to be.”

“Wow, very profound love story Pa. By the way, I didn’t know that you and Ma attended law school. ” “I got your mom pregnant. I married her. Your Angkong got mad at me for doing that.”

I puffed smoke and said, “What happened next?”

“We both dropped out from law school. I think that’s obvious,” Papa said as he threw the cigarette butt in the ashtray, “And I was disowned.”

“You got disowned?”

“She’s not Chinese.”

“Just that, ‘cause Ma’s not Chinese? I thought you were not disowned. You and Ama are in good terms.”

“There are lots of things too. I was already arranged to marry another woman by that time. Then I married your Mom at age twenty-one. I dropped out from the program the best law school in the country offered. Your Angkong was really mad that time. Your Ama couldn’t do anything about that.”

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“But you and Angkong, the two of you reconciled right?”

“We didn’t get the chance to do so. He died in car accident before you were even born,” he said looking out the porch.

I thought they were in good terms. Papa always took us to Angkong’s grave to pay our respect. That was a routine we did four times a year—on all saints day, on Angkong’s birthday and death anniversary, and on Christmas.

I stayed quiet, and drank my macchiato empty. I stayed quiet just the way I did on that night—the night I saw Mama sitting at the porch. That was the third night that Pa didn’t come home. I was about to go out of the house and party with my barkada when I saw Mama as she stared blankly at space. Her tears were flowing down her cheeks. I couldn’t share with her pain, even for a moment. All that I could to was gaze at her.

The week after, Pa finally decided to show up and pick me up from campus. On the road he tried to talk to me about the conflict back home and failed because he thought that his eldest son would actually give a damn about the subject. I didn’t want to meddle with their problems. So I just pretended I was asleep as we made our way through the traffic.

Playing pretend that’s what the family was good at anyway.

I lit another cigarette as I watched Papa look out the porch. “Pa, do you love Mama?” I asked in a sudden.

“I love you and Mark if that’s what you want to know. You and Mark are both important to me. Dear to me. You are my kids for Christ’s sake.”

“That’s not the question Pa. I asked if you love Ma.” Pa didn’t answer back. But I knew anyway. The late hours he came home. The nights he was missing. The out of town trips he had on weekdays. Everybody knew it. It was an open secret.

“Anton there is something I want to consult you about,” Pa said.

“What’s that about Pa?” “It’s actually a family matter. I should be announcing this to everyone but I thought I must consult somebody before I do so.”

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“And you’re consulting me,” I asked in wonder. I wondered why he did consult me. I never bothered getting involved with family matters. I didn’t like the crushing pounding sensation at my chest whenever I think about the fights Mama and Papa had. Hearing Mama and Papa threw words of profanity at each other made my arteries want to explode that I couldn’t breathe. With all the shouting, cursing, and crying that happened so fast, everything just wasn’t worth dramatizing. So I chose to neglect everything, to go on with mundane activities as if everything was nice and perfect. I thought who cares if everyone in the family would go berserk. It’s not as if we’re the only family in the world worth a drama sitcom.

“Yes,” Pa replied, “You’re going to be the new man of the family anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I plan on filing for an annulment Anton.”

“Pa, you’re 45. By the time the marriage is nullified you’ll be what, fifty. What in the world could be out there for you?”

“Life, love that’s what is out there for me.”

“Oh, so she still hasn’t given up.”

How could she, I thought. She had already waited for so long. I can still remember the first time I saw her with Papa. It was way back when I was a freshman in college. I was out with my newfound friends when I saw a familiar face hugging a woman at this fine café. That moment all of my suspicions were confirmed. That moment I knew it was over.

“Who are you talking about?” Pa asked.

“Please Pa don’t pretend like we don’t know.”

“Well….she still hasn’t lost hope that I’ll leave your mom. I’ve contemplated about this for some time now.”

“Then why wait for so long? Why just now?”

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“I have kids. I have you and Mark in my life. So I tried to forget about her. I chose to stay,” Pa said, “But now the two of you grew up to be quite some men. Now, I’m pretty sure the two of you will do well in life—both of you are smart. I think this might the right time.”

I stared at Pa for a while as I gathered my strength and said, “Do it.”

“Anton?”

“Pa I said do it. Do it.”

“But….”

“Do it Pa. File the case.”

For a while we were embraced by the noiseless mist of midnight as the two of us fell into deafening silence of the wee hours. In the fractional darkness of dead time Pa spoke looking straight into my eyes, “I don’t know how your mom will take this. Take care of her Anton. Please take care of her will you.”

And as I held the tears about to flow out of my eyes I said, “I will Papa. I will.”

We spent the rest of the morning talking about anything under the sun. We talked about God and religion, politics, and Across the Universe. But we never touched family matters again.

The two of us puffed our way through dawn. With each white smoke a thought flew with it into the heavens, with each breath an entreaty to the gods.

47

Kiss

By G

Kiss. It’s just a kiss. How can it be such a big deal? Its just two lips intertwining with each other. Just a kiss. With a girl. While having a boyfriend. Oops. As the song goes, “I kissed a girl and I liked it.” What?

But seriously, I never thought that I would be one of those girls who would be cheating on their boyfriends. The worse part is I cheated on my boyfriend with a girl.

Damn. Most people think that I’m not supposed to be hurt because I was the one who cheated. But they’re wrong. I also was hurt because I knew that I was hurting someone I cared about. Someone who loves me. Someone I thought I loved.

I tried to end it. But I didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. I was afraid of his reaction. It’s ironic, I didn’t want to break his heart – but I already did.

I chose the girl and I eventually told him everything. He got mad, of course.

But what kills me the most, up to now, is how he forgave me and how we became good friends after. I go to him when I have problems and he would always be so trustworthy.

He is such a gentleman. And I always pray that he soon finds a girl who could love him. I know that he also deserves to be happy.

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When He Fell Cocoy Vargas

I loved him. I just knew I did.

Every day I was reminded constantly why I loved him, why I started to love him, and why I continue to love him. I woke up to his calls each morning, and my days always started right when I heard his voice. His tone resounded in my head and his words left a mark on me. He walked me home even if it were late. He wrapped me in his arms at the right moments, and his warmth sowed love in my skin.

Each passing moment was a constant reminder of my love for him.

I knew I loved him. He knew he loved me. And I knew he loved her, too.

Leaning against the wall while I sat on my chair, I zoned myself out from the rest of the world while I read my physics book. Law of conservation of momentum. I didn’t understand half of what I was reading; faint memories of velocity and impulse just mixed up inside my head when I tried to recall whatever I had read. While reading, I looked up from the page I was trying to study to see what was going on in the classroom.

There was a group that was talking about the party they went to last weekend. I saw some people who were studying as well. Quite a few enjoyed their own solitude as they tried to catch up on lost slumber.

In front of me, I noticed that Mike was there. He was playing the guitar and singing with some of my other classmates. I stared at him for a bit to observe him, eyes closed, fingers furiously strumming, and he was lost in the tune of his song. For a moment, he opened his eyes and I immediately put my attention back to what I was studying, hoping that he didn’t catch me staring.

I found myself repeating the same statement in my book over and over again.

Momentum is the quantity of motion. It is the product of velocity and mass. Suddenly a shadow cast over the page I was reading. I looked up and saw Mike smiling at me.

“I saw you last night, walking. I think you were going home.”

I tried to recall what I did the previous night. “Yeah, I was. I went home quite late yesterday,” I replied. I noticed that I didn’t smile back at him, so I made an effort to curl up the ends of my lips. Mike’s face brightened up. “You were still in school during that time?” I inquired.

“Yeah, I was. Rehearsals killed me yesterday. I almost couldn’t hit any note right.”

I gave a light chuckle. “You, not hitting any note right? You have to be kidding me.”

And I was serious. Mike was beyond impressive as a singer. Nobody ever grew tired of hearing his voice.

Mike gave out a soft laugh. I felt weird seeing his smile. “Well, I’ve been having a 49 hard time singing lately. I really don’t know why.”

“Probably you should stop singing with those guys,” I said, pointing to our other classmates who were singing with Mike just moments ago. The bell suddenly rang, and the class started to settle themselves in their own places. Mike gave me a wink before he went back to his own desk.

The two of us didn’t usually talk, so I found it quite weird that he made it a point to approach me all of a sudden. I found myself earnestly watching him as he continued to sing and play his guitar in his seat. It was the first time that I really got to look at him, and his face slowly grew on me. He actually looked quite attractive. I felt the passion that he radiated with every note and tune he sang.

Eventually, I was lost with him as he continued his song. It was like our quick chat was a trap that I fell in, because I could not get out of his trance. I guess that that chat was going to be the start of something great that we were going to share. *** He was the only person I knew who had the innate quality to be cute. Lots of people are cute, but when they start to act cute, they start to lose their charm. Mike was one of the cutest guys in class to say the least, but he wasn’t like the rest of his kind. Everything he did, every action, every movement, was cute. When he acted cute, he became even more charming. That feat was effortless for him, unlike the others for whom acting cute was a forced deed. For Mike, it was natural. He made it work.

The two of us didn’t really talk very much. We were classmates, but he was one of them whose existence to me didn’t matter that much. He was just there to be my classmate. That’s all. I might have worked with him for an activity or project a couple of times, but our relationship was nothing more than that. I minded my own business and he minded his. Our mere coexistence was enough for the two of us because we didn’t play very significant roles in each other’s lives. And that was that.

There were times that we got to talk to each other. These were the times when we got to school at the same time and we walked with each other to the classroom since it’d be rude if we didn’t. Or the times when we both had to photocopy something. Or the times when we were buying in the same stall in the cafeteria. I usually didn’t know what to say during those times, as with any other moment that involved me being with other people who I’m not close to. In those times we engage in some small talk and we joke around for a bit. But when one of us had our thing finished, we parted ways immediately.

He wasn’t necessarily a big crush of mine. I always just had my eye on him. We never could be together anyway, so there’s no use to fret.

50

***

I did not know how it happened.

Time flew by in what seemed like seconds. Day in and day out, we slowly became inseparable. We would work together for seatworks and projects, and we got to know each other through our labor. We would see each other outside the classroom; we’d go to the cafeteria together, go to the washroom together, and accompany each other in doing errands. We would go home together; I’d wait for him when he stayed late, he’d wait for me when I stayed late, and we stayed late just because we wanted to.

He was like a diamond. He was a treasure. He was precious. I discovered in him his value, his worth, which was undeniably pure, innocent, and priceless. I saw through him, and he wasn’t afraid to show me who he really was. There was something about him that always drew me to him. He was vulnerable, but he always stood strong. He was loquacious, and at the same time reticent. He was silent, yet his soul screamed with vigor.

He was unlike any other. He was his own person. He was him.

The connection was too strong to be ignored.

I was drawn to him.

He was drawn to me.

He called me up one day and invited me to watch one of his performances.

I gladly accepted his invitation, happy that he was willing to let me enter that part of his life. I’d always feel alien to him whenever he was dealing with his craft. He was in a level that was beyond any others’, and there was something about him when he sang that I just could not get my finger into. I could not reach him. I could not grasp him. This time I felt that he was exposing himself to me his most vulnerable, yet most precious self.

I was riding a cab and I was already running late for his performance. Oddly enough, Mike wasn’t texting me to nag me about my whereabouts. I took the initiative to send him a message about where I was. I didn’t know exactly how long it would take me to get to the place, since the traffic I was in was terrible. He replied, “It’s okay. Take your time.” Smiley in the end.

Finally, I was able to arrive in the place. It was a small bar with quaint designs, and the tables were full of spectators. After a few seconds of scanning, the two of us saw each other. He signaled that he wanted me to wait where I was, and there was an eager look on his face. He showed up again a few seconds later dragging along a girl with him.

She was quite thin, with the sharp angles on her face accentuated by her deep-set eyes. She had hair that fell to the middle of her back and that swayed with her every move. When they stopped in front of me, I noticed that she was almost the same height as he was.

“This is my girlfriend, Regina,” Mike gallantly told me.

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My eyes instantly widened, and a taut smile formed on my lips. I nodded to her to acknowledge her. I felt a tension going on between the two of us. She smiled back. Her smile looked genuine. She reached out her arm for a handshake. Reluctantly, I held her hand.

The announcer called Mike’s name. “Oh, that’s my cue! The two of you watch me, okay?” He smiled, gave the two of us a pat on the shoulder, and ran off to the stage.

The awkwardness reeked as we stood beside each other, side by side. I did not have the initiative to start a conversation, but I managed to pull out a few words from my lips.

We had a short chat of small talk, about school, hobbies, and our favorite topic, Mike.

Finally, I heard Mike from the speakers.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said through the microphone while he sat on a wooden stool and held his guitar. “This is a new song that I wrote for someone who is very special in my life right now.” The music started and the bar became quiet except for Mike.

I swear he had his eyes on me throughout his song. *** I loved him. I just knew I did.

Every day I was reminded constantly why I loved him, why I started to love him, and why I continue to love him. I woke up to his calls each morning, and my days always started right when I heard his voice. His tone resounded in my head and his words left a mark on me. He walked me home even if it were late. He wrapped me in his arms at the right moments, and his warmth sowed love in my skin. Each passing moment was a constant reminder of my love for him.

I knew I loved him. He knew he loved me. And I knew he loved her, too.

It was a dilemma that I did not really care about, since I knew in my heart that what he felt for me was genuine. He had the two of us, but he always gave me his undivided attention almost every time—and I assume that was the case for her as well. He loved her first, and he has loved her for years now, but he found in me a different kind of love, a love that he longed for and did not find in her. He loved the both of us, but he loved us differently.

I knew about her, but she did not know about me. In spite of this, he did not make an effort to keep what we shared a secret. He was never shy about holding me close to him when we sat beside each other in class, when he’d lock me in his arms for a long time, when we’d whisper to each other’s ears that we loved each other. It wasn’t much of a problem for us, anyway, since he was naturally sweet to everyone, and our classmates were 52 really used to see me clinging to attractive guys. Mike and I were eventually known

to be the best of friends. *** There was a lull that went on in the other side of the line, and the silence from the phone pierced through my eardrum and rattled my brain.

“Can you say that again?” I spoke, breaking the silence that went on, almost catching my breath.

I heard him heave a heavy sigh on the other line. “We broke up.”

I did not exactly know how I should have felt during those moments. Part of me felt bad for him. He and Regina were together for years. They were each other’s first loves. Mike was nothing but utterly sure that it was going to be Regina who was going to be his wife eventually. He had dreams of raising children with her, building a family with her, and dying with her. I wanted to feel sympathetic.

The silence persisted.

“I don’t know what to say,” I mumbled.

Another part of me could not help but feel ecstatic. I can finally have him for myself and myself alone. I no longer had to share him with another person whom he probably loves more. I did not have to fear that he would finally leave me for her because she came before me and she was bound to be accepted more by the world than me. I did not have to sulk in jealousy when I saw new photos of them together, and when I read their messages to each other in their blogs. I can finally have him to myself and myself alone. He can finally be mine.

There was gloom that emanated through the phone line as each second passed.

I could hear him breath from the other line, and I wanted to hold him at that very moment.

I couldn’t stop the words from going out of my lips. “Where does that leave us now?”

There was another lull that took place, but this time, the silence deafened me. I anxiously waited what he was going to say in return. I sincerely hoped he would say that it was me he really loved and wanted to spend his whole life with. Yet I still knew that it wasn’t going to be that easy for him to let go so easily.

He finally spoke up. “I love you. And I’m happy the way we are right now.” *** Mike was a performer. He loved being up on stage, sharing his talent and making people happy with it. When he was on stage, he would put on the smile that people loved 53

about him, and start giving them what they wanted. Mike loved putting on a show, and he was also good in doing so even off the stage.

One thing I noticed about him was that he was good in concealing his emotions.

Whatever burden it was that he had inside him, he kept it there, plastered a smile on his mouth, and faced the world as if nothing happened. He did not exactly tell me this, but it was obvious. He couldn’t just have swallowed his break-up with Regina so easily.

Maybe it’s why nothing much seemed to have changed.

We still met each other every day after classes, and spent hours together until we knew our parents would be worried already. He’d still call me to wake me up every morning, and the number of hugs he’d give me everyday did not decrease. We’d still talk to each other over the phone until the wee hours of dawn. He was still treating me with the same kind of sweetness, but I felt that something was not the way it used to be before.

The two of us sat in front of each other on the bench outside our classroom. I was not able to keep track of the time, but it was starting to get dark. Droplets of sunshine seeped through the night clouds, and the stars were slowly popping out, one by one.

I looked up to see Mike. He was in deep thought. There was a gentle innocence that radiated from his face that I could not help but revel in. A scarce light highlighted his soft angles, and his eyes shone even in the dim surroundings. His hands still clasped mine, and there was a soft grin that formed in his lips.

He closed his eyes and started to hum. A sweet melody resonated in the empty hallway, as if bringing life back in its bleakness. His hands brought warmth to mine, and shivers started going through my veins. He opened his eyes and unclasped his hands.

The familiar fingers that I’ve grown accustomed to be touched by started caressing my palm. His humming continued as he had his eyes on what he did. Then he looked up to me and smiled. He let go of my hand and moved closer to me. His hands made their way to my back as they slid through my sides, and his arm wrapped me in a warm and tight embrace.

It was a feeling that I never grew tired of. No matter how many times we did it, I still found myself wanting more. Mike’s embrace made me feel guarded and protected.

It was an affirmation that whatever problem I had was going to dissipate. It was an assertion that no harm was going my way. It was an assurance that he was always there to protect me from anything, and that he was never going to leave me.

“I just want to stay like this,” he whispered. His breath tickled my ear. My lips turned to a smile. I could feel his comfort, sweetly surrendering to my touch.

And we stayed that way. His face was buried on my shoulder, and my chin rested on his. It was only us there, and it didn’t matter if there had been other people. The moment was 54 ours, and nothing could have taken that away from us. There was something about

that moment that was so strong, so pure, so passionate, that it felt like it was the closest we had ever been.

“I don’t really know where we’re headed,” he suddenly said. I felt my heart stop beating for a second.

Nervously I thought of what I was going to say. “We don’t have to go anywhere.”

“We do,” he instantly replied. Our bodies were still tangled with each other.

Slowly, he let go of his hold on me. His hands clasped mine, and his thumbs caressed the back of my hand.

“I need to sort things out after what happened to me and Regina. And I have to do it on my own.” I nailed my stare into him. “Realizing how much I love you…made me realize how much I really love her.”

It was as if my heart was being wrenched.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I love you. I know that. And you know that too.

But I don’t think I’m being fair to you. I don’t want you to be waiting around on me while I’m with Regina.”

And at that moment, my mind started to space out. Fragments of his speech randomly accessed my consciousness. “You deserve better than me...” I heard him say. “…Someone who will love you wholly…” I heard him again. “…Without having to share with another….” For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to hear him. “I can love you better this way.”

I stared at him stunned, and my gaze grew so deep into him. I was thinking of so many things at the same time. I loved him as well. I know that. I’m patient. I can still wait for him. I don’t care if I had to share him. I loved him. And that’s what mattered the most.

Without a word, I pulled my hands from his, stood up, and walked away.

Silently, I walked down the empty driveway. Just hours ago, it was bright and noisy with students flocking to their respective rides or hanging out with their friends. Cars filled up the vast space, unhealthy stenches defiling the air that the surrounding people breathed in. Each new day meant chaos for that driveway, but I didn’t usually have to go through it all the time. I had a knack for going home later than usual, and today was no exception.

The rubber soles of my shoes scraped against the concrete slower and slower. The silence of the night deafened my ears and the dim light from the street lamp blinded my eyes. I felt tears that were eager to fall from the sides of my eyes, with none of them succeeding. Softly the breeze blew; the night enveloped me in its cold. Slowly, the awful truth that I couldn’t bear to believe sank in me and made me sick in the gut.

I was alone.

55

Fast Cams Bayhon

It Could Have Been Better Paolo Tamase

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Avril Bries Alex Capulong Enzo Clemente Kenna Barit Kenneth Reyes Ralph Dantes Patty Bucao

Cocoy Vargas Ben Bismark Issay Villanueva Mads Salazar Sieg Alegado Reuel Realin WillJ Sarmiento

Simone Carpio Irene Arzadon Hendrick Aguilar Cams Bayhon Chilla Inocencio Hannah Alipio

Paolo Tamase Mia Astudillo Kim Orticio Irene Arzadon Jes Manipon Tin Cunanan Rehi Dimayuga Patrick Santos Kenneth Reyes Bianca Alvaro

Editor-in-Chief Associate Editor Managing Editor News Editor Features Editor Special Projects and Probe Editor Layout Editor Photo Editor Art Editor Webmaster

Ben Bismark Norika Ishikawa Jahan Kalam

Applicants

Miko Gloria Mark Matibag Jeremae Soliman Ni単a Mata

Interns

Czar Carbonel Erik Eleazar Nathan Pico

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It’s Complicated is the literary folio published by the members, applicants, and alumni of the U.P. Economics Society.

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Copyright 2010