There are things I am trying to figure out and I find myself trapped in a situation that I have placed myself in. When I meet up with my friends and I explain where I my mental and emotional state is, it becomes quite clear and apparent where I am in the larger order of things. As I exit from the cave that I have retreated myself in and speak to more and more of my friends — most notably, my friends that I haven’t seen in a while, because I have to give a larger background to properly frame the story in its proper context — I am slowly beginning to realise that my need for a clean break is ambitious and fool-hardy.
To leave the situation now would really put others in a bind and that’s not how I want to go. “I want to make a clean break,” I told my good friend Amanda, when she asked me why I just don’t turn around and leave. “I don’t want to screw anybody up.”
But as the days go by and I’m getting deeper and deeper, I realised that being in this situation is already screwing people up — me most of all.
Just the other day, I asked a friend, “How much of your life is for you?” And I also told him, “You can’t help anybody if you don’t first help yourself.”
There’s no way to be the good guy in this situation. I fucked up. Pure and simple. I wanted to be an adult but I find myself completely paralysed in a childish temper tantrum. Some breaks are not clean, cannot be clean. I think my pride is not allowing me to fail; I am refusing to accept that I have failed. I want to try and make it good enough so that I can leave with my head held high. It’s pride. That’s all that it is. It’s pride.
Now, I’m in Baguio, two days before the Scarlet Letters to Baguio, a poetry slam at Mt. Cloud Bookstore, with the hopes of raising HIV awareness through the power of poetry. I came early to get out of Manila. So I can think. So I can be away from everything else. I’m running away. Like a little child who refuses to see the problem before me.
It is the adult thing to do to clean up the mess you got yourself in; but it is also the adult thing to do to come up and say, “I messed up.”
Surrounded by fresh, cold chill air of Baguio, a hundred miles away from Manila, and seeing the majestic mountain view from the house of my friend where I’m staying two days before the poetry slam; I’m coming to the realisation that there is something else I’d rather be doing. I’d rather be doing something else. And no matter how much I hold on to the opportunity to try and make things right, time is slipping away from me the longer I do not do anything to rectify my mistake.
I am coming down from the mountain with a new found resolve. It’s time to be an adult. I’ve always wanted to be an adult. I couldn’t wait to be this old when I was younger. Now, I face everything like a man.
Pride. Consequence. Acceptance. Admission. It’s time.