We sat ******* those university chairs.
We knew nothing about directions except the path we were heading to.
I fell hard during those times, harder than you did. At least that's what I thought.
I don't know if you felt those words.
Those were all the words before what I am today.
You weren't the only one. .
I am not the only one. .
but sometimes I think it's just me
who remained, who in at least a day in a week thinks of it whenever something familiar reminds me of you.
I know the reality
doesn't care, but the truth is,
I really want to know
how far did it took you
to condemn me.
And all I've heard was,"Hindi lang ikaw ang may pinagdadaanan Nikko."
That was the last thing I've heard
and I don't know wh-. .
what ever since. . . .



Here we are.
We are now a myth turned into a gossip during reunions whenever someone who knew our story but didn't know how it felt cares to touch the intangible memories;
the coals in the fire;
those tons of patient Catcher in the Rye books in every bookstore;
the change for the bums on
the streets;
the infected livestock meat to bury;
and yes,
this is outdated years ago,
and here I am
not halfway through
wasting away.
ughhh. . .