"A man dies ... only a few circles in the water prove that he was ever there. And even they quickly disappear. And when they're gone, he's forgotten, without a trace, as if he'd never even existed. And that's all." - Wolfgang Borchert, The Outsider
My life was a little bit strange and rather tragic. I grew up with no one except myself, my mom Lily and my cat dory. My father left me – that is what I try to believe in although my “new” mom keeps on telling me that he died too – when my biological mom passed away in a fatal car accident when I was three. I don’t know if she is hiding something from me but as far as I remember, his body was never found on the site. There was no burial for him that ever happened. No one had a clue about it or maybe it was only I who doesn’t know the truth. I even remember that when I was young, every time I would ask mom about him and the accident, she would just scold me to go back to my room and read a book instead. I used to read and finish a book within two days. It started with photo books then poems then essays until I saw myself obsessed with novels. The classic ones. Somehow I kept on asking the same question, bothering her until I was twelve where I started to grow tired of not getting an answer. Up to this very day, I still don’t know a thing about it and as much as I want to think that he died too, I just can’t. Something inside me tells me that he isn’t and that I should look for him though I barely have a clue where to start. It was really sad actually, especially when you need someone to talk to yet nobody is there particularly in “boy’s talk”, you know those sort of stuffs about adolescence, growing up, the world of dating, falling in love, parties, drug and even sex. I couldn’t tell it to mom since it would ruin my ego and she would definitely not understand since she was never married. Also, I think it would be very awkward talking to her about condoms and masturbation. So I grew up discovering them myself.
Back when I was still in middle grade – oh, how I can still even remember that time – a day came where my teachers asked us to bring our parents for the upcoming parent-child day. And because I had no parent to come over (mom was out of town back then to pick up some packages), my teachers asked the parents of my classmate to pretend that I was a part of their family so that I won't feel lonely. Of course, everyone became excited for that day and played lot of parlor games which includes sack race, those kind where you are going to wear a sack over your feet up to your hips and start jumping like retarded kangaroos and the longest line where your aim is to create the longest line using all the items you are currently wearing like belts, socks even shirts and sometimes, underwear. Everyone loved that game except me. I think it was more of a stripping game, the more naked you are, the more chances of winning. Every person in that event was having so much fun, bursting out laughter and exchanging hugs here and there, parents cheering for their child, teachers debating about what game should be played next yet I just stood there and watched them have fun from a corner. Instead of joining the crowd, I just took out a book and began to read. I let my imagination flow and take me to somewhere else. That’s the fun in reading books you know. You get to be part of something that doesn’t exist yet feels so real. The words just becomes your words.
Life has always been like that for me, sad and dark. By the way, in case you are having trouble to understand my family tree, Lily was not really my mom. She wasn’t an aunt either nor a foster parent. She was just and old maid slash caretaker of our house who has been with us for years, maybe decades. When my parents died, I was adopted by my aunts who grew old waiting for their prince charming who never came. They waited all their life for the right person to come but they never did. Now explain to me the definition of soul mates or destiny or serendipity or whatever cheesy word you would like to call it. If they are real, why such thing happens? Back to the story, when I was eight, they had to leave me to the old caretaker of the house because they needed to go to America for the treatment of Aunt Estrella's lung cancer. Stage two. It’s not that really bad as the doctors would explain it trying to calm everyone down but she does need to undergo an operation to cure her. Unfortunately, three weeks after her sensitive operation, she did not made it. She died with a broken heart and broken lungs.
Two years after, my other aunt followed her sister to heaven due to her age. She has Alzheimer’s back then. She cannot recall who I was or any other person every fifteen minutes. The only thing she remembers is this guy named “Charlie” whom she kept on calling every now and then. “Charlie, come here,” “Charlie where are you?” “Charlie… dear Charlie.” Probably he was her first love or that sort of thing. You see, even though I don’t believe in happy ever afters, I still believe that the heart remembers what the mind forgets and in the same way, the mind remembers what the heart forgets. An ironic passage that is close to me not because I have experienced it myself but because there’s something about it that triggers my imagination. On the day of her burial, my other relatives decided to let me stay with Lily since she grew up taking care of me and my parents which eventually led to her being unmarried because she was just so dedicated to us. A part of our wealth was given to her in exchange of her taking care of me. Also of course so she would still be able to sustain my schooling as well as our daily needs. Since then, I started calling her mom.
So that is basically my story. Tragedy has been a part of me and that reminds me that life isn't fair, it has never been and it will never be. For sure, there are others that are claiming right now how beautiful life is or whatsoever they would like to explain. But trust me, life isn’t a fairytale full of gumdrop fairies flying through the sky sprinkling gold dust. It’s just not. I have experienced it myself so believe me when I say that life is a creepy place to live in. That’s one reason I hated fairytales. They don’t exist. I hate how everyone believes in it even after so many failures and tragedies they have faced in life, how they can make it seem so realistic as if it is real after all. And I also hate those cheesy stories about a girl meeting a man and suddenly they fall in love with each other. I am sure it wouldn’t happen to me. Or would it?
It was already mid-July and the rain has started pouring down on the streets of Manila. Philippines has been my home for seventeen years now. Its busy streets has always been the view from my bedroom’s window. Those early risers preparing for their days as they pass through this boulevard, I know some of them by name, most by their faces and suits but no one even recognizes me. I am this man who was always behind these crystal windows from an old brick house. I never had the chance to play outside, hangout, go to the mall or the park or even just a trip down the avenue. My life revolves on myself only. I don’t know if it is who I really am or just a plain choice. Everything for me is like a mystery waiting to be solved – but not in a Sherlock Holmes kind of way because if that is, it would be surely very awful.
Anyway, the people here are very friendly and would treat you nicely but not everyone. There are some who would take advantage of your weakness and imperfections. It is not just happening here in our place but I think in almost every part of the world. I often get into fights and troubles at school because I was always bullied and I still don’t get why they do that. I know I am much shorter than the others, no muscles, definitely a loner and I look so easy to beat up but why bully someone? I don’t get it. I remember Seed – that’s his nickname because his brain is as small as a seed and he loves picking on smaller guys – trying to take my lunch that day. I was in a bad mood, which always happens to me by the way, and I don’t know why all of a sudden I threw my lunch at his face. It was pretty messy. The tomato sauce was all over his uniform and his eyes covered with pasta. I brought in some spaghetti that day and I think it was not a mere coincidence. He threw a punch in the air and hit me in the shoulder. I got so enraged that I took my back pack off and threw back a strong punch leaving him crying down on the floor begging for mercy. It was my first time to punch someone and I must admit that it did hurt. My hand was swollen red for a day. He was admitted to the hospital for a week due to a broken nose and I was in detention at the same time. It was just self-defense so I don’t know what is the problem with that. Some students at school started to hang out with me, most of them are losers too probably looking for protection, but most started to avoid me thinking I was some kind of troublemaker. In the end, I still chose to be all alone. I have learned to live life the hard way. After all everybody treats as some kind of an asshole. You see, I look at the world in a very negative way. In all aspects of it, I see nothing but the darkness that lurks on it. A lot of people tell me that the world is a great place to live in spite of all the bad things that surrounds us. But after all that I have been through, you cannot question why I am like this. No one can change me... no one.
By the way, I have a brain tumor that, well, leads to brain cancer and that's what makes it all hard for me. It is like I have the whole world on my shoulders. I know that it is an exaggerated description but you get the picture. I discovered that I had this illness just a month ago. I have been experiencing this sudden pain in my head for the last eight months but I don't have a single idea of what was going on. I thought it was all just some plain migraine, it does happens to everyone. But as the days grew closer, the pain just kept on getting greater that I couldn't take it anymore. One time, while I was walking down the stairs from one of the buildings in our school, I felt this sudden shock and everything went black. It was completely dark and the last thing I knew was I was lying down on a hospital bed. Everyone in my class was there with sad looks on their faces. I don’t even know why they were there in the first place. No one really cared for me. I am guessing that they are just doing that so they have a reason to skip class. High school students loves cutting classes. Why study when you can just go with your friends, play billiards and card games. Unfortunately in my case, I have no friends so what’s the point of skipping classes? My classmates said that as I was walking, I suddenly tripped, fell down and kept on claiming that my head hurts until I lose consciousness. The school then decided to take me to the nearby hospital for further assessment on my health condition. Our school clinic was useless by the way. It was a horrible place and again, some students pretended to be sick just so they could lay down and take a rest on their hard wooden beds. I tried it once but I felt worse. I couldn’t try lying down on their bed without any foam. It was sickening. So together with mom, they took me to St. Luke’s Medical Hospital. When I didn't woke up for the last five hours, the hospital turned me to the MRI section to examine my head because they think that I could have had internal bleeding or that sort of thing. To their surprise, they found out that I have a brain cancer. When I learned about it, I felt plain. It was like listening to a normal conversation. No emotions given. But after everyone was gone and there was only me and the doctor left, I felt a sudden urge to go back to school. I can feel that something terrible is coming down my way. He then told me the most painful thing I have ever heard in my whole life: If your condition doesn't change in the next four months, I am sorry. You only have a year left to live.
The countdown has already started ever since the doctor said those words to me. For me, that one year is long enough to fulfill all of my aspirations and dreams. Not everyone is given the chance to live that long especially with the illness like this. Many have tried to persuade me to take chemotherapy sessions but I never found that helpful. It is more painful since it is slowly killing you away. Just the thought of getting bald freaks me out. I can’t imagine myself with no hair. Every time we would have family gatherings, my cousins would tell me how they envy my hair. What products do I use and what do I do to maintain such asset of mine. So losing it would definitely took away my confidence and self-esteem although I don’t think I have them. Also, some may have survived due to this but in my case, there is a slim chance of survival. My aunt who is very healthy wasn’t able to recover from the operation so how could a seventeen year old like me could? I mean, it was just all impossible to me. The tumor is already large and is taking up too much space on my head. I have even thought that after some time, it would grow large enough for my head to burst out like a balloon, with my brain parts scattered everywhere and blood splatters on the walls painting them deep red. I know it sounds gross, but that’s what my mind thinks. To be honest, it does hurts a lot and mind you, it was very painful but the ache it gives me reminds me how much longer I will be able to live. To cope with this change in my life, I have made a promise to myself – written in a small notebook that I carry always to remind me of these things –, that I shall fulfill these seven wishes of mine before I die. This idea may sound awkward and cheesy which is contrary to what I really believe and try to live in but it is the least I can do to relieve myself of this sickness that is silently taking me away from living a normal life. I have seen a lot of people doing these kind of things especially in movies and I know some may think of me as another “wannabe” or whatever but this time, I know it’s worth a try. I have nothing else to lose anyway. Might as well try to do what they always say: live life to the fullest. Okay, that was cheesy.
Well, my wish or somehow death list would be like this, written in a hasty manner and in really large fonts, with each having a large space of around two to three note leaves just in case I wanted to write something:
My Seven Wishes Before I Die:
1. Go to the carnival and ride a ferries wheel. I have lost my childhood early and it is one of my dreams to ride that special circle. I often watch those things going round in movies and I often wonder what it feels like when you are at the top of the world, screaming out loud and chasing that moment where everything feels endless… the scenery, the stillness of the night, the flashing lights and the stoppage of time. Yes, I know. It was a wish that can be fulfilled in a matter of days or even hours but you see, the fair happens only once a year here and although there are rides like these in theme parks, I don’t want to try them. I am looking for that “extra special” one which would give me thrills and fun. One more thing, I am really afraid of heights so it may be easy as it sounds but trust me, it would take a lot of time. Also, I don’t usually go out. Like I said, I am trapped in my bedroom by the walls I have created myself. So unless there’s a special reason to go outside, I don’t think this would be an easy task.
2. Go to two places at once. I must admit that this is a very hard thing to do. How can you go to two places at once when you only have one body? I mean, it is quite strange for that to happen. Not unless you cut yourself in half. I don’t even know how I came up with the idea. It must be another product of my imaginative mind, like those stuffs you read on novels.
3. See a shooting star. A simple yet striking dream of mine. I remember those times where Auntie was telling me that when you see a shooting star, close your eyes, make a wish and your dreams would come true. I can even recall the nights where I would stand in the balcony of our house just waiting for that shiny star to pass by. Yet, every night was a failure. In case you would like to know, I have a huge fascination about the stars, the constellations and how they create a pact together that gives pleasures to people like me. I also did some research on shooting stars, where and when they happen and occur but I guess it’s all just a matter of chance. I once saw one with a cousin, well, it was really that close. She kept on talking and talking as if there’s no tomorrow and I was doing my best to ignore her, I just looked at the tiled flooring. She then shouted “a star!” and began to pray and I just stood there, wondering what just happened. It happened very fast. Like my Auntie, the things that I have been waiting for never came. Still, she often tells me those kinds of stories about hope, dreams, and wishes yet I know for myself that those are not real but at least in some point of my life just right before I die, I do still hope to see one. I am pretty sure it would remind me of her. And what would I wish? I still don’t know. Maybe until I saw one then I will finally figure out what to ask for.
4. Learn how to play the piano. I have always been a fan of classical music. And the piano is my favorite instrument. However, I have not yet tried playing it because I was in this room all alone for almost all of my life and I don’t have one. There was a music club at school but I don’t feel like joining them. There was too much of it, singing here and there, and they are doing recitals. I don’t like recitals. I don’t like showing myself in front of everybody else. I just like the solemnity of the music. Me and the melody alone. It’s like a dance. You sway with it. Each piece has a story of their own and we, listeners, creates that story. We are the storyteller. It is up to us how the story starts and how it shall end. The same goes with life. By the way, one of my favorite piece is Rain’s Theme from the movie Secrets. It is a piece that is played by two people who is deeply in love with one another. There’s something about it that is so special. It makes you laugh then cry then laugh again. A celebration of emotions.
5. Find my dad. How to achieve this one? I have no idea. It’s either he left us or he died. Like I said, I still believe that he is still alive although I have no picture of him or even just an information regarding his name and whereabouts. He is nothing but a shadow… a nightmare that haunts me every time I go to sleep. And as my days come to an end, I want to know him, to see him, and if he is indeed alive, I want to ask him why he left me without a trace. Why make yourself look dead and pretend that you never existed. His voice and presence would surely make me complete. Just the thought of it makes me wonder how he looks like or what kind of person is he. Does he have his own family now? Is he married to another woman? All of those questions that I would like to ask are hanging on a thread. Up to the day of my burial, I know and I hope that I would personally meet him. And if not, my life would then be like a jigsaw puzzle with a burned piece. It will never be complete. You may create another piece but it would never be the same as before.
6. Witness a miracle. I have lost my faith to God all these years. I no longer pray and I often swear and commit those “sinful crimes”. I have grown in a family and society that is centered on the Catholic way of living. We go to church every Sundays, attend masses, participate on religious occasions like the Holy Week, but again that was before. I don’t know where or how it started. It’s just that I woke up one day and felt that God wasn’t real. But as days passes right through my own eyes, my faith slowly restores. Maybe I am just praying the price for the things I have done. Still, I am longing to see for myself what a miracle looks like, any kind will do. And I am very sure that everyone else would love to witness one.
Last on my list would be the simplest of all. No further explanations.
7. Fall in love for the first time.