I
I was on my third paracetamol this morning. Just an extreme headache I contracted sometime Sunday afternoon while I was going home. I was supposed to start on the layout of the blog and maybe format some songs on the pod, but I just had to go and tuck myself in at around 8pm. Which is rather early, when every Sunday I usually stay up late up until the house ghosts start the knocking.
It kind of made me feel uneasy though having to sleep on the same bed I always sprawled myself on usually on mornings and not recognize anything about it. At least my family didn’t do anything drastic upon my leaving to move to a temporary abode, unlike Ger’s whose family was too eager to have her move out of the house that everytime she comes home, the need to go back to Alabang is aparent. My mum is still sweet enough to change my sheets, or fix it just in case I come home and I would need a place to crash. My bed now also doubles as a dreamland refuge for my eldest brother whenever he comes home. But when I laid my back on my bed, I didn’t find the same welcome I used to get. Maybe the JC dog didn’t pee too much on the territory or something. I just couldn’t smell ME on the sheets. It doesn’t hug me as much anymore. Led me to wondering if my room has this hurt about me leaving them for another.
This is probably what my brother felt when he went off to get married. Even if it was his home for more than 10 years, it just doesn’t feel too “home” anymore. It’s just a good thing my mum’s there. She the only one who makes things feel like home, even if when I’m around I do get her own weekly rants that she needed to unload. So every Monday when I go back to Alabang, I bring her emotional baggage. *sighs*
But it’s the small things that lead me home. Last night, while the headache consumed me, my mum lay beside me and rubbed my back with this menthol thing that’s supposed to recondition your body. Then she just stayed there, hugging me, giving me warmth.
At least, her smell is around. That’s one thing I look forward to when coming home.
II
I received his text on my way to Alabang. Obviously forwarded, something about how if two lovers separate and remain friends, it’s either they’re still in love or they never loved each other at all. I told him the caring doesn’t stop after the breaking of hearts started.
Somehow, there’s always going to be a tender spot for everyone who has made a mark on me, or me on them. I may not consider them on the same level I used to see them at, but hey, they’re still people I voluntarily look after no matter how much the communication is severed.
III
Last Saturday I was at Giligan’s Makati with Ger as two of her friends celebrated their birthdates. I honestly froze when I saw this girl who looked just like Aiz, a good friend some years back. We had some problems over the years that prompted us to severe communication ties with each other.
I didn’t want to do an episode like two years ago when I had a manic hyper-neuro attack in Ortigas upon learning she’s in the same building I was staying then. I calmly took a deep breath, then looked at the girl again. Mere resemblance was all. Good.
But it was deafening, the realization that things come to reactions such as these. She was also a good person I didn’t want to lose, but it had to come to that. You wonder why things happen, but mostly, you wonder whether you’ve learned enough not to have an unwanted de ja vu.
Have I really learned? I don’t know.