Rain and wind lashed at my windows, calling me.
I feel so old and so alone. Living on these mountains, I feel like the rest of my life is downhill. Unless, I stop time and stay up here, in the mists and clouds.
I had never hoped to end up like this.
When I was a small girl, I spent many afternoons playing by myself in our backyard. I'd dig up dirt, mud and pebbles tomake small houses and streets and streams. I'd climb our trees, santol, mango, lanzones, and crawl under shrubbery. I'd run around the house, around and around. I'd turn on the hose and put my thumb in the nozzle to make a spray in the sunlight, creating a small rainbow. I was utterly happy by myself.
Only because I felt loved, because I had a home, because I had nothing to worry about. Because I had no sad memories.
I celebrated my birthday last week with some friends. We had a picnic on my friend's backyard, just outside the city. We had a nice view and agreeable weather. It was great of them to make the effort. I had hoped to let the day pass by unnoticed.
I got a text message saying that one of my grade school barkada died of a heart attack. So young! I thought. I then wondered why I felt so old, if I also felt it was too early to die at my age. (Am I making sense?)
Rain and wind was still calling, so I stepped out onto the deck, into the rough weather. I was immediately drenched. I stayed outside for an hour, looking straight into the storm, shivering, cold.
What do you want from me?