In Limbo

And I keep on telling myself: “Okay, Jing, gather your shits. You have a midterm tomorrow.” Yet, I cannot find the strength to go back to Los Banos, knowing that it is no longer the same.

A certain presence is missing and it makes everything incomplete. Truly, when people take off they never really disappear. Behind them, they leave holes, a nagging vacuity, that no one – absolutely no one – can fill. Their absence will grow robust over time, and you will begin to see it everywhere – in places you used to occupy, in tea flavours, highlighted book pages, in chipped cups, even half eaten plates.

But I’ll survive this. I’ll nurse this sadness and write fucking poetry and I guarantee to all the gods that I will survive this existence. Hear that, Life. You can’t beat me. I WILL stay alive.

On Gambling and Growing Up

Okay. I need to let this out lest I’d go irreconcilably mental.

Nick and I went to the casino tonight. He wants to play game, he said. It would be fun, he said.

I do not know how it happened, but it was so fast. One moment, he was entering the 500 peso bill in the machine, then, he made a few punches on the buttons — 3 to 4 to be precise — and the next moment, in just a few minutes, literally, the 500php dissipated in midair.

It was his idea of fun — their fun — all those people in that stupid room, while all I could think about was the difference it could have made on some people’s lives.

It could have save a family from hunger for a few days.
It could have been used to purchase medicine for the sick who cannot afford to go to the hospital.
It could have been given to a student about to commit suicide because of the rising tuition fee.
It could have been used, sensibly, on a more relevant matter.
But it wasn’t.

I was shocked, so shocked I ended up heading back to our room, unable to bear the sight of people stupidly burning those money on something that does not make even the slightest sense. Then I grabbed a few clothes, soaked myself in the tub, and cried and cried and cried.

I cannot explain why I had such reaction. It was absurd, I know, but it was as if I was mourning for the world. Like something died. I am not sure what. Hope, perhaps.

I want to talk to him about it, but I fear that he wouldn’t be able to understand, given his first world orientation. I want — no, I need someone who can grapple and comprehend its complexities. Someone whose idea of life is far greater, deeper, and advance than some stupid football, beer and drunkenness, and fucking girls. Someone who does not have to purchase those misguided kinds of enjoyment in the bars, market, or casino. Someone sensible.

Until then, I guess I will begin avoiding people. Apparently, their stupidity is too much to bear.