(seven) i stopped wearing shorts— unable to stop feeling eyes raking my legs up and down, up and down. i didn't even know there was a word for that.
(ten) i started wearing clothes a size big for me. they did not ask why i get angry whenever they force me to wear something that clings.
i hated puberty, how things would grow and change, and they would stare.
(eleven) i tried wearing shorts again. immediately i get the feeling of someone trailing behind me. i went home as quickly as possible.
(thirteen) i wore baggy clothes during commute— a blouse and jeans. it was a thirty minute ride. it felt longer. especially since this man sat next to me,
hounding me nonsense— anong pangalan mo? i do not answer.
that night, i had my resolve— i will never commute alone again. people laughed at me. hinahatid ka kasi lagi.
no.
(fifteen) i started giving prolonged glares, staring into the eyes of the beast whenever i hear a whisper as i pass by. hello, saan ka pupunta?
so i stare them down. funny how they back away as i stop in my tracks asking with my eyes "what now, imbecile?"
does it feel bad when people don't tolerate the ******* coming out of your mouth?
(nineteen) ano ba kasi ang suot niya? they ask. everything feels white-hot, searing. i refuse to hear anymore of that.
exit.
(twenty) every time i go home on my own i carry something in my hands, a blade if you must. the night sky begins to envelop the horizon. the streetlights cast their sickly orange hue on the pavement as i take one last look at the hospital.
i hope i make it home in time.
"hello, anong pangalan mo?" : hello, what's your name? "hinahatid ka kasi lagi." : well, you always have a ride. "hello, saan ka pupunta?" : hello, where are you going? "ano ba kasi suot niya?" : what was she wearing?