Who’s Crazy Now?

I was fond of leaving the house, and catching up to my mother’s Hemodialysis Session late at night – usually around 9:30 to 10:30 in the evening, just late enough so I can free myself of the long sitting time inside the jeep because of the Friday traffic. Also, leaving the house late at night makes me feel at ease, because whenever I look outside the jeepney window, the cool evening breeze calms me down, and sets me off into a ‘meditative’ trance while travelling to Roxas Blvd.

This time is actually no different from the previous nightly travels that I have taken. But somehow, thisjeepney that I was in, had somehow made  ponder on so much, before I went to sleep that day (so much for being so worriesome, huh?).

It was around 10 o’clock when I got to the jeepney stop, and I happen to call a jeepney to ride on. I was the third passenger on the jeepney – the first one, being the passenger beside the driver, and a guy who sat  not too far from where I was. The Air Supply tracks was definitely on a high volume (making me shout out where I was going to alight), but it didn’t matter to me much, as I as enjoying the songs being played.

As the jeepney stopped near the old Sta Ana church, an old woman, carrying a big shoulder bag rode the jeep, and sat at the seat infront of me. She looked very tired, and surprisingly, she was murmuring things to herself, and some of it, I cannot clearly understand. She seemed very hungry, as she was handing out her hand towards me (seeing that  I was eating a pack of biscuits). I gave her another pack, and she started munching on the Skyflakes that I gave her. A sudden rush of emotions came to me, as I glanced at her, and questions like that came into my mind: “Where’s her family now?” “Where is she going?” “Is she really crazy, or mentally ill?” but then, out of pity, I looked away, pretended not to be overly concerned at her condition, and drifted off with my random thoughts.

Not too far away, a group of teenagers rode the jeep. If I am not mistaken, there were 5 of them, not far from my age (but definitely younger than me). They were so rowdy inside the jeepney, shouting, laughing, and cussing each other, as if carrying no burden at all. The smell of alcohol reeked inside the jeepney, and really, it would definitely piss me off. What was more irritating, was how they kept looking at the old lady with disgust. Sneering and whispering (though, they weren’t really whispering) that she was insane, as she kept talking to herself and pretending to be looking for something inside her bag.

But deep inside, with how they were even acting out, could I even consider them as the sane ones? After how they seem to be pretty much enjoy being carefree and aloft with their own surroundings? The ones who are expected to think, and live upright lives spend their living bodies in a degrading way?


Just Not Enough

It was a bliss – that feeling of cheer that came my way one rainy November evening. Living in this world, alone and depressed from time to time, it seemed happy to realize that despite all the hardships I face, a new horizon is always in full view at the end of the day.

I was a kid in the dark, alone and cold; clueless and lost; confused and torn. But amidst the dark and desolate life that suddenly befell me, a candle was lit.

Its light was small, and darkness enveloped its very entity, yet it burned bright, and Hope continued to illuminate my surroundings. A little candle managed to warm my palms, but most especially, my heart. I finally saw a smile, from the reflection that emanated from the puddle. And because of that, slowly, but surely, I started to hope that this would continue, all throughout the night.

And as the night grows dimmer by the hour, the rains starts to pour again, and the winds blew harder each and every time. The light flickered, and I feared for the worst. I couldn’t afford to lose this light in this dark and gloomy evening.

But, the longer I try to hold on, the more obstacles I face, and the faster it burns its flame. Now, I begin to doubt myself, if I could even feel the same way again, once the candle melts out, and the first few rays of the sun is finally in full view.


“For when a rose blooms
From the fiercest drought and storm
True love’s in full view.”
( Joshua Jimenez, ‘Haiku 7’)

The nights seemed much more happier for me, this time of the year. The cool winds blow early in the morning, and when the clock strikes in the afternoon, and the dark skies start to grow longer. The lone moon illuminates the dikeside, as I sit and gaze at the flowing waters of the Pasig River, contemplating on how things seemed to have moved. People came, and in a glimpse, they have left; like the water rapids of the river, flowing freely infront of me. The harder I tried to cling onto them, the more difficult it becomes to take a hold of them. And I end up disappointed.

I even came to the point of blaming myself for certain things, I was aware that I had no hold of. And even thinking that I might need to take a hiatus on relationships. But then, out of a blue, someone comes into the picture and changes everything.