Bright Lights .
Hysteria in the Music.
Unleashed passion,
abuse of the soul.
The confines have enclosed you,
this life you now embrace.

Look back at that Tree
you once thought majestic,
you once knew would shelter you
from the heartlessness of the Storm.

Look back at that home
that sheltered you from the rain,
the home you sought refuge from,
when you just can't go on anymore.

Look back at that window
you once used to trace your dreams with,
where raindrops slide on the outside
as your breath reveals what's written.

Hold that soft teddy again
whose fealty remains as it was
whom you treated as a private comrade
at those times when nobody seemed to care.

Look back at that road you deliberately missed.
And look now at this road that feigned happiness.
Look back at all the things you gave up
for the world's figment of the easy life.

I had to rummage through the stack of books sitting on my desk trying to locate the cam’s User’s Manual. I really hated to admit that I poorly manipulated gadgets without the aid of some tacky guide, considering that all my sibs seemed to have been operating these types of gadgets since birth, and can always do without these booklets.

I was tasked to be “photographer” for my brother’s graduation rites tomorrow. I didn’t complain. I didn’t have a gift.

I suddenly remembered how “camer-o-phillic” we used to be. A year’s age gap always helped people around us to wrongly conclude that we were fraternal twins. We wore the same type of clothes (yes, I wore more boyish outfits), wore the same cool rubbershoes (ergo, no strappy sandals for me), and wore the closest looking haircut. We’d pose for mom’s prized camera (the ones that gave you poorly colored pics that would eventually turn yellowish in time) like we were some Promil kid models.

Back then, only the two of us enjoyed our toys as we were barely allowed to play outside with other kids. It was then too easy being “it” during hide and seek, and was extremely frustrating whenever we craved to play agawan base.

I felt that he was my best bud back then, and I’m wildly guessing that he felt the same for me.

It’s just too bad that we grew apart as we started getting older. We lived in the same house, but barely saw each other.

I held the digicam and started having some test shots to check on the settings I’ve painstakingly configured after around an hour.

I grinned.

If it were my brother, he could’ve done done it in a jiffy. No manuals. I’m proud to be the sister of an ECE Post-Graduate Degree Cum Laude.

I’ll make sure to take great pictures tomorrow. It might not be as perfect as when we were Promil models, but I’ll make sure that each shot whispers how much I’ve missed the first ever bestfriend I’ve had.

I reluctantly sat on the auditorium’s chair as I tried to scan for familiar faces who might at least remember me. I nervously smoothed my copper-colored taffeta with my sweaty palms as I scoured the room for my much missed ex-colleagues.

A blonde and a brunette dashed their way along the aisle, flaunting their newest Chanel gowns. Adelle, the stylish blonde, and Paulsen, the fab brunette were now considered top socialites of the community. Both wore their enchanting Montassiere scent, now regarded as the finest Milan perfume, formulated by the filthy rich, James Montas.

Ladies in black were now serving scantily filled plates to every distinguished guest. It didn’t take long till I noticed that these ladies wore black uniforms with breast patches that read, “Pasimio Cruiseliners”. I also noted that the delicatessens were prepared by Chef Girlie herself, who owned a first class catering service, jointly, with co-proprietress, Cherry Love Andres. They remained best of friends through the years, I thought.

I munched on my fine meal as I waited for the program to start. The room is now beginning to get awfully crowded. Coming in were newlyweds, Precious and Jeffrey; the Yuan triplets with their dad, Jape, and mom, Van; the ever sweet Diane and Nino tagged along their four kids; and then I noticed this kid who ran the aisle with the deepest black dreadlocks I’ve ever seen. Aha! I knew it… Linda Marley married a Jamaican. But it wasn’t Ziggy. Perhaps, a relative. I forced myself not to chuckle. I also noticed that all the kids who came in wore their signature Basbash B’gosh jumpsuits, which is of course, now patented by Richelle’s clothesline.

I almost spoiled Darlene Larkins’ bright yellow gown as I twisted to my right in search of an usher who’d take away my empty plate. I apologetically smiled and allowed her to grab the seat beside me. She wore an elaborate hand-made brooch that shouted, “GUEST OF HONOR”. She was invited by Sitel owners, Mr. Benito Sy and Ms. Tata Angeles, and that Nap Darroca replaced her as Site Director for Pasig. Miss Meg, her Filipina bestfriend who remained as productive as ever, was promoted to Site Director for Baguio.

She flipped pages of a magazine while she waited, and I clandestinely checked out what she was reading. It was Time magazine’s latest edition. The cover read, Dr. Larisa Cruz, Woman of the Year. I can’t blame Time; they did a good job of finding the fittest person for that title. Doc Lari was Australia’s top psychiatrist-slash-counselor, averaging thirty patients a day, a powerhouse cast of Aussies ranting and struggling with anger management and emotional imbalance. Lari’s secret of keeping herself sane? Going to a shrink herself, Dr. Karen Agramos, who fully understands all her frustrations. Perhaps they’ll name Karen, woman of the year, next issue.

The succeeding pages showed Hollywood’s newest Asian Versace models, Blu Reyes, Ja Nabiula, Ella Lumagbas (no sign of stretch marks!!!) and Kris Rivera. They glowed like any other American model and I couldn’t believe how slim they’ve become!!!

The next pages showed 2020’s coolest gadgets. Time has it’s Philippine page which showcased the world renowned Samson D800. Samson Electronics absorbed the impoverished Samsung Company way back 2015. These cool phones are operated by the ingenious Jimian OS, replacing the inaccuracies of the old symbian OS. These Samson phones are open to either Globe or Zap, two of the country’s leading telecommunication services, where the latter is owned by Shel Zapanta herself.

I quickly looked away from the magazine as Darlene abruptly glanced my way, as if sensing my intrusion. I fixed my gaze on the creased invitation I was holding, trying to find an escape for my obvious peeping. I opened the invitation and scanned through the roster of events. A song number was to be rendered by the country’s top sopranos, Guerrero, Sarmiento and Espino. I could almost hear their melodic voices. The night’s emcees were Mike Bandola, Sitel’s HR Department Head, and Leng Yuson, now a celebrity, known to have replaced Kris Aquino’s hosting feat, when she resigned from showbusiness to take care of Josh and Baby James.

I skimmed through the program still.

Joanna Reyes is now Account Director for Jamba, replacing Benito Sy, and is rumored to have been engaged to Joey Mcclaine. Their relationship, I believe, blossomed from the time that she became Adele and Joey’s common friend.

Again, I skimmed through the lines. And I couldn’t believe what I read next…

“Opening Prayer led by Sister Ridelia Villamor, Catherinian Order”

I gasped for air as emcees Mike and Leng took the stage and welcomed the guests. Sister Dhel came in for the prayer, unbelievably donned in the whitest habit I’ve ever seen. It was a short and serene prayer that thanked Him for Jamba’s 15th Anniversary.

The emcees now introduced the speaker for the Opening Remarks. Tony Concha, Country Manager.

Tony started with a rhetoric line as my mind drifted fourteen years back. I closed my eyes and saw three coaches manning the floor, Joanna, James and Nap. Tony was just recently promoted to OM from RA back then, and Phil, Jimbo and Lari were our PS’s. And we were still carefree agents back then, who unforgettably enjoyed the time of our Jamster lives!

Like Odysseus will I be cursed

by the gods to stay adrift,

in the stinging coldness

of this heartless Ocean,

I sail.

Hail the gods!

For their curse is their sword

that punishes the vines

for its unruly crawl.

Hail the gods!

For they hinder my soul

to return to its world

of Dreams and of Glory.

But for what cause is this scorn?

What havoc have I done?

that lead to such exile

from the land I desire.

Aphrodite's ambrosia...

Ahh, yes... the sweet lure of the goddess,

that blindeth my cynicism,

that destroyed my defenses,

that enviled my soul.

Her phantom hath seduced me

to leave my world;

and promised eternal joy

beyond this Sea of Tears.

Stay asleep sweet princess,

stay in touch with your world.

Let the gods dwell in their power,

for you will never return.