In the city only for a while
Here to face the fortune and the bile
Blue Spotted Tail
Dangling cobwebs embraced me as I passed through the door, welcoming me back. It was only fitting, after all, a thin crust of dust caked everything in the room, while traces of now-dead gray molds were cairns of moisture long-gone. Our unsettled past really does haunt us. I left Cebu three months back in haste. That afternoon saw me grabbing what quick-glanced decision-making deemed prudent to bring, or salvage. A variety of scraps littered the floor, the wooden figurine ashtray was a bowl of dust, and the books left behind: on the table, inside a paper bag, under articles of clothing, beneath the bed, atop the bed, inside a cabinet, inside neon shopping bags - they were as corpses of the forgotten fallen in a place lost to memory. I left Cebu then without saying proper goodbyes to important people - the few people who knew my story; the few who knew and helped me through. Up until that afternoon, I wasn't even sure if leaving was the right thing to do. I feared it was cowardice, and feared even more that staying might be foolish, that pride was behind the resolve. I failed for the most part during the time before I returned home. It was a daily labor to just get up and slave through another cycle of monotonous eight hours repeating the same thing over and over and over again. There were occasional moments of clarity throughout that period: endless conversations under the sky that took me places and spurred me to great heights and taught me to savor the adrenaline rush of descents. I have really good friends to thank for them. They kept me sane. When I finally hit rock-bottom, I succumbed to a form of denial and depression. I lived an illusion, and lived on dwindling resources. There was one time when I willfully dove into the sea of questionable sobriety, to warrant a breakdown of the walls that barely kept my already over-spilling sentiments in check. That was a night of surrender, that I have failed utterly and irrevocably, of empowerment, that the admittance of a mistake is an act of courage, and of trust, that the first time I totally blacked out saw me come home safe and sound, albeit with a warped memory whose pieces I pieced together several days later. There is more to this tale, and though I wished to keep it for myself, for its virtues, I will write of it here that it be immortalized and transcend time.
Our unsettled past really does haunt us, but the present brings with it good things unlooked for. Two great books came wrapped in silver accented by a red ribbon, sent by two Secret Santas. I consider it the first good omen for my return. I have several important things to finish within seven days, after which I shall be able to reforge the ties I have here. I have become quite the recluse, both here and in Bohol, and have done good friends a disservice. They are, after all, living balms to my soul. Tomorrow shall see me wade the waters of the unemployed seeking employment, and hopefully succeed. I have been floundering about for far too long for the rest, which I realized I really needed, to be considered reasonable. Today is the beginning of the next four and a half years of my life which shall see me work to support my studies starting June next year. Don't you dare end on December next year, world. This stranger has dared hope, and intends to work for it. Let me see this, and the many things and ties I need to accomplish and forge, through.