My Scratch Pad

:: complete and incomplete thoughts, daydreams and illusions ::

Strangers

She's pointing at me, Mark notices a girl he doesn't recognize, standing at the hallway of his house.

She tiptoes closer to the guy beside her and whispers something in his ear, as she points at him. He's reminded of the behavior of little girls who gossip about their classmates right in front of them, but are too young to have any sense of subtlety, or politeness. He feels annoyed, but doesn't give it too much thought. He walks on, making his way to his room, wanting to rest.

He sees her point at him again, and this time he couldn't help but say something; "What is it?" he asks her. "Why are you pointing at me?"

"Oh," she laughs, and then shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I was just asking who you were," she points to the guy beside her, the one she was whispering to. "But he doesn't know. And I don't either," she explains. And without showing any hint of hesitance, she asks, "Who are you?"

Mark chuckles, surprised at the rudeness of the question. After all, she was at his house, and if there was anyone who would be asking questions of who anyone was, it should be him asking her. "I'm the ghost that haunts this house," he jokes, thinking that if her answers her directly, she would continue asking impertinent questions.

"Ohh," she nods her head slowly. "So, how long have you been haunting here?" she asks.

He raises an eyebrow. He didn't think she would buy it. But then again, she's probably just playing around. He shrugs, and decides to go with the flow. "A few years," he says. "Ever since I died."

"Really?" she says, her eyes widening. "You remember?"

"What?" he asks.

"Do you remember how you died?" she eyes him curiously.

Both his eyebrows are raised now. He looks to the guy beside her, seeking for any hint on his face that he is just as confused as he, or at least that he's in on the joke that the girl is obviously pulling on him. But the guy's face remains without expression, like he isn't there at all. He turns back to the girl looking at him intently, and says the first thing that pops in his head; "Car crash."

She nods her head slowly again, and then smiles. "You must really be new," she tells him. "Most of the people here can't even remember their names," she extends her hand. "I'm one of the few who do. Marissa," she says. "I can't remember my last name, though. Or how I died. You're really lucky."

He doesn't take it. Instead, he looks to the guy beside her again. Surely, she was pulling his leg. "Is she serious?" he attempts to talk to him.

He remains silent.

"Oh," she waves her hand dissmissively. "He doesn't talk. Those who've been here the longest don't anymore. I guess they've forgotten how to do it. Can't really blame 'em. I mean, if I'd been alone for a hundred years, I might even forget how to move."

"A... hundred years?" he repeats, almost mockingly.

"Well, maybe not a hundred, exactly. Maybe seventy. Or eight five. Or, ninety nine. That's a good number," she says. "I think I could forget how to move after ninety nine years."

 "Well, how long have you been here?" he hears himself say.

"Oh, I can't say for sure," she admits. "A few years, maybe? After a while, you stop noticing when the sun sets and rises, and everything just seems like one very long day."

"Uh-huh," he nods, pretending he understands her, at the same time deciding she was too crazy (and creepy), and that there are plenty of other people to talk to elsewhere. "Well, I have to go," he says.

"Oh," she says, more surprised than he thought she would be. She looks at him curiously, and shrugs. "Okay," she says. "See 'ya around!" she waves a hand.

"Yeah," he nods slightly, not believing her one bit, and then turns to walk away.

He is only able to take a few steps and then, he hears her call out; "Hey, what did you say your name was again?"

He turns to tell her. He opens his mouth, but closes it abruptly. "I--" he starts, blinking, and trying to remember. "I'm--" he tries again. But nothing comes. He looks at her, as if he would find the answer in her eyes.

She shakes her head and gives him a small smile. "Don't worry," she says. "It took me a while to remember, too."

END
22.05.07

by: distantorigin at 07:51 | link | comments

Panahon Na Naman

Panahon na ba talaga upang kalimutan kita
Kahit hindi pa natatapos ang mga araw na masaya?
Abot tenga pa rin ang aking mga ngiti
Ang aking tuwa, hindi pa rin maitimpi

Kailangan na ba talagang tapusin ang lahat
Kahit hindi pa rin nawawala sa akin ang pagka-atat?
Ni hindi pa nga sumasakit ang mga paa ko
Kahit na ilang beses na tayong paliguy-ligoy dito

Hindi ka na ba talaga makatiis
Gustung-gusto mo na ba talagang umalis?
Hindi mo na ba ako mahihintay
Na sa buhay na mag-isa ay masanay?

Kailangan ko na ba talagang harapin
Ang matagal ko nang iniiwasang damdamin?
Marami pa'kong hindi alam, marami pang gustong malaman
Panahon na ba talaga upang ika'y aking kalimutan?

---

Hindi pa nga namememorya, pinapakalimutan na.
Ang dami pa ngang tungkol sa'yo na hindi ko pa nalalaman
Mga bagay na 'di ko pa alam, paano ko kalilimutan?

How can I forget, that which I have not yet had time to remember?
Daig mo pang isang kisapmata :P

by: distantorigin at 11:49 | link | comments