Words Between The Silences

I was a mere bystander on the sidelines without any use to anyone else until she found me. Date: July 26. Today has been an uneventful day for the class of Archimedes 10 of the Rushmore Integrated High School. Except, of course, for the every day events that occur unrelentingly to this particular class. As always, the Filipino subject teacher Mister Mike Dela Cruz created, yet again, another round of applause and cheers from his students because of his witty repartee with his male students. Amusing at first, yes, but as one really looked into it, one could deduce a change in the ambiance the said "witty repartee" bring forth. And it is nothing like the professional student to teacher kind of ambiance, mind you. This leads the page that Mister Dela Cruz belongs, indeed, to the other side of the door of the male part. Well, it has been highly noticeable (there is nothing wrong with bearing the pride flag!) and as well as being a respected professional, everybody chose to accept it wholeheartedly. But this page will now boldly say, after weeks of observations and keen attentive listening, that Mister Dela Cruz is actually flirting with his male students. There is nothing wrong with flirting. In fact, flirting is actually one of the few acts that improve a person's speaking ability. But one should be mindful of where it would take place and it certainly isn't inside a classroom with four (or probably more) dozens of kids all under the ripe age of 15-17. Bumuntong hininga ako at marahang binaba ang panulat na hawak ko kanina pa simula noong nag-umpisa akong sumulat. The familiar weight of the pen left my left hand as I set it down on my writing desk. It was an exhausting but quite uneventful day. Isa lang sa mga normal na araw na lagi akong mayroon. Sa pagbaba ko ng panulat ay dumiretsyo ang tingin ko sa mga kamay kong burdado ng tinta nito. Sinubukan kong burahin ang mantsa ng tinta sa mga ma-kalyo kong daliri na iniwan ng pagsusulat hanggang sa mamula ang mga ito at magsawa na ako dahil kahit anong gawin kong pag-alis nito ay nanatili na itong nakaburda sa balat ko. Muli akong bumuntong hininga at dumiretsyo ang mga mata sa bintanang kaharap ko na direkta namang nakatutok sa bintana ng kapit bahay ko. Through the haze of the setting sun, I saw him. Again, not for the first time, he was there. He was kissing a pretty girl as he lain with her in his bed that we used to sit on when we were younger. Sa isang maliit na papel ay nagsulat uli ako at dinikit ito sa pader kong puno na ng mga kaparehong mga papel na kasing liliit lang ng munti kong palad. 28th of July: He was with another one...again. Bawat buntong hininga ko ay pakiramdam ko'y unti-unting lumalabas ang lahat ng lakas ng katawan ko. Matalim ang ritmo ng puso kong tumitibok sa aking dibdib. That beat was irritatingly making its presence known and with a faint thump thump, I felt its pain yet again for the hundreth time. Tumayo ako at pinanood kung paano maglaho ang araw sa likod ng mga ulap. Napanood ko kung paano niya halikan ang babaeng iyon sa harap ko nang hindi niya nakikitang alam ko. Kung paano niya hubaran ito. At sa eksenang nangyayari sa harapan ko ay parang nakikita ko na ring nadudurog ang puso ko, pero hindi naman umiikot sa pait na iyon ang buhay ko. It's not like I'm into romance. And so, I reached for the blinds' rope of my window and with abruptness, I yanked it down rather harshly. The coldness of it was enough to wake me up and realized that what I actually saw was real and very true. The sun that hit the colored windowpane of my room, creating a myriad of colors that reflect back to my room, was suddenly replaced with darkness. "I guess, that's it for now," mahinang bulong sa sarili ang ginawad ko at pinalis ang medyo mahaba ko nang buhok na tumatakip sa noo ko. Waking up from my wool-gathering, I turned my back on him, on the windows and, lastly, on the space that separates us, and looked instead to my diaries. I hold one and flip through it, ending up reading, again, the very first page. My first entry. There are almost couple of hardbound pocket book size notebooks inside my velvet mint green box, all containing words of my everyday life. Words that will never get out of this four-walled room that is my own private little world. These diaries are my most secret and dangerous possession. Okay, I might be overstating things, but I know for a fact that no one would be interested to just randomly read them. I'm probably the most boring person on Earth, unless, someone purposely actually read them... then I'm in trouble. Like a huge trouble. But, right now, there wasn't anyone who would do that. Date: August 04, 2014 As life continue its progression, it became apparent that it is the most cruel but good thing in the world. It all became so clear that it wouldn't stop because a milestone hit someone else's life, it should've been obvious but then again people are still innocent and hopeful at the young age of 10 to 11. Innocent and hopeful, those words are so pure. But then puberty is a thing at this stage, and innocent and hopeful became pretentious and proud. For this page, there is only one high school hierarchy. Categories that generalizes all high schoolers. The Geniuses. The Entitled Royalties. The In Betweens. And the Losers. They come in respective order. The Geniuses are the over the top intelligent students. The top-notchers. The Entitled Royalties are just a bunch of arrogant kids who thought they are way cooler than most. The In Betweens are in the middle of the other said categories, but couldn't quite achieve only one. They are the bystanders, the reason why such events like parades and pageants always looked full. And, of course, the Losers. No explanation needed. This page still needs to consider which people are which. That way, it will be easier and less of a bother to read and analyze someone. What I didn't know that night, as I lay thinking of the wonderful Nicholas Valdez, my childhood best friend and my neighbor, and as I sleep soundly, was that it'll be my most uneventful night for the rest of the year. And that tomorrow I will write the most shocking set of words I'll ever write in my piece of sticky note. 29th of July: Oh my God, my entries got out.