I need to know if you were real
I’m taking a real quick break from homework- and project-making. Ahh! There’s just so much I have to do for school. I can’t wait for our field trip on Friday this week, it’s gonna be so much fun. Even if we won’t actually be on Mt. Banahaw itself, but on the rockies a couple of kilometers away from it. At least there won’t be leeches there (I think). My mom almost wouldn’t let me go because she was afraid I’d get kidnapped by the Communist rebels or something. But according to the guide who gave us an orientation this morning, they’ve been doing field trips in that area for years and they have yet to encounter a member from the New People’s Army.
I have this fantasy of hiking on the mountains only to be whisked away by guerillas with cute, boyish faces and really manly bodies. They’d kidnap me and hold me for a ransom so ridiculously high, nobody can afford to pay for it, not even the government. Then one of the hot guerillas would fall in love with me and vice versa and I’d decide to join the guerilla movement and forsake my old life just to be with him. I’d wear camouflage and carry a gun with me all the time, and I’d grow my hair really long. *sigh* I gotta admit I was a little bummed when we were told there wouldn’t be any Communists hiding up the mountains. Of course, I don’t think I’d show the same reaction if I really got kidnapped by the National People’s Army (NPA). I told Denilou, who was sitting next to me, about my guerilla fantasy and for a minute she gave me a strange look. Then her face took on a look of realization and she said, “Oh, okay. I thought you said gorrilas.”
This is what I do in class when I don’t pay attention. I make it a point to upload my “poetry” now because I write them on pieces of paper and they get lost easily.
He is my blessing and he is my curse
The bad karma to every good thing I have done
He makes me smile and he makes me bleed
but most of all he makes me weep
rivers of salty tears.
He longs for love but he has no heart
It atrophied and withered with that boy I once knew
I gave him everything though his palms were clenched
But he is no longer beholden to me
for he paid back his debts with his anathemas
After all these years I cling to him still,
my savior and my assassin,
he who built me and filled me with disillusionment
He means everything to me but I am only his shadow
A tiny voice who haunts him in his sleep.
Well, back to my English paper.
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4 Responses to “I need to know if you were real”
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It’s because of you that I was inspired to have my own journal too. It’s because you that I make sure my grammar is correct and in order(so is my journal site)You are very good and kind even if some people will disagree with that. You write beautifully and you articulate yourself well. When you make entries you are true to yourself. You don’t just post entries just for the sake of posting. Some readers think you’re an arrogant. I don’t but there are times you are.. but with good reason *smiles*. I have this Cat Journal(diary notebook..an american couple gave me when they vacationed here inour home)that I want to give to you(cos you inspire me!) but I dunno where
Regarding you entry today, as usual you write so well. So nice to see somebody so enthusiastic about going on a field trip. Travel safely.
Thank you,
Jae..Muggle…Manila
aaaaah! paranoid parents… wouldnt let us go on our field trip on the banahaw rockies… because of npa rebels. oh well. enjoy your field trip there. be safe, i heard its going to be a lot of hiking and a lot of wounds and scratches from the husgado and much more.
the poem is kinda sad.
There was this rich daughter of a socialite in the early 70’s that joined the NPAs. Not too sure of all the facts. She got married to one of the communist rebels. Her life was rough eating camote tops, having scratches all over her legs. They eventually had a daughter and it was because of her that she decided to go back the city.