english,
Literary: You Are Still Here
If I had known that was the last time, there is no doubt that I would have done so much more with you.
I would have stayed later than I usually did. I would have stayed longer in the library, maybe even chat with the librarian even though she scolded us on a daily basis for using the place to play and hang out rather than to study. I would have asked for more of those stupid, invented games, such as Dodge Rock. Whenever we played, your boisterous laughter would always accompany our games. It was infectious, I believe, because entering the hallways, I’d see others laughing along. Remember when we’d chase each other down the hallway no matter how many times a student council officer told on us, and whenever we were in the air-conditioned music room, singing enthusiastically to another song from our music teacher who had a priceless smile on her face?
I think I would have asked for more day-to-day moments like that. I would have been more selfish and asked for more time with you.
Perhaps I would have watched the sunset, too. I never thought sunsets were a big deal until now. I wonder how they would have looked in your eyes. Me? I probably wouldn’t have been able to take my eyes off of you.
But you’re no longer here, are you? You haven’t been for a while now.
Forgive me. I might be romanticizing the past, as they would say. But what are we teenagers for if not to romanticize our own experiences and memories, right?
Without any warning, your existence was replaced by a windowless urban, now often crowded and even proudly presented by businessmen in suits. But to me, they were just people who had no regard for your beauty. They didn’t see you as anything but something to demolish, something that had to go. I wonder what I would have really done, had I known this would become your fate eventually.
Today, I am still here. You aren’t. Someone could say you still are, but I no longer recognize you—if it really is you. You’re different and confusing and unfamiliar and overall a complete stranger. I don’t see how anyone could look at you and say that you are still here. But today, I put their lenses on and attempt to see for myself. Hesitantly, though. You’ve always known me for being a skeptic. After all, you were the one who taught me to be one, weren’t you?
When I walk through the quadrangle, I don’t see that familiar, stupid game of Dodge Rock. No—instead, there are students grouped together, sitting on the stone benches. Most of the benches aren’t actually occupied by that many students, but by bags that take up the seats instead.
I look around, scanning for something that could give me a sense of familiarity. Still, no sign of you. Not surprised. I sigh and almost give up… until an odd-eyed cat with white fur comes up to me. I squat down to her from a distance, not expecting anything to happen, until she rubs against my leg.
My heart feels warm.
I hear a noise from the quadrangle, and sure enough, it’s from students yelling—throwing and running around over a disc. I try to hold back a grimace because the image becomes clearer now, but I don’t see it. I don’t see you.
Then, one person falls on their butt to save the disc from touching the ground. Everyone laughs and calls their friend dumb nicknames. Soft laughter erupts somewhere else, catching my attention. It reminds me of you, somehow.
I look back at the cat, who is already looking back at me, and I notice that her eyes bore combinations of blue and green respectively in each eye. She gives me a look, as if to say, Well? I sigh and smile at her, bidding her a goodbye before getting up and entering the academic building.
There is no boisterous laughter that immediately greets me the way you did before. Instead, I am met with a teacher’s gaze, accompanied with a smile almost instantly. I return the smile a few seconds late, unable to process whatever my heart is starting to feel again.
Before I can even comprehend whatever it is, a group of students grab some guitars lying around and sit on the floor. As they strum, I recognize a few familiar songs, varying from the latest OPM to timeless, popular songs that almost everyone knows by heart. I stay nearby, in front of the Science department, as they sing loudly, some perfecting the notes and some hopelessly failing, yet all smiling at one another like they share a secret. Unconsciously, my face starts to copy theirs and a smile appears on mine, too. As if I were part of a big theatrical act, the hallway starts to fill up with another type of noise, when more students are dismissed from their classes. Their silly anecdotes from the previous classes and whatever they had watched last night join the melodies and harmonies of those sitting on the floor. Laughter—more laughter and more tunes take up the background, until there’s little room left for silence.
Ah. There you are.
There aren’t any students chasing each other down the hallway, though, nor are we in the library being nuisances to the librarians. The music room is different, too. It’s on the fourth floor now, but I think they were right. You are still here. Different, though. Good different.
In the faces of teachers who willingly give out friendly smiles, in the eyes of friendly stray cats, in the melodies and harmonies of students, and in everything else in between—there is no doubt about it. You have been here all along.
You are still here. You always have been.
0 comments: