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November 19, 2011    |    0 COMMENT(S)

While I am guilty of not completely updating this blog as often as I used to, I shall not waste any more time apologizing and share with you a random moment of vulnerability instead.

One of the few things I call my own and (sometimes) refuse to share with anyone else is my walk. Every afternoon after my last class, instead of waiting for the jeep in the Faculty Center waiting shed where everyone else is, I choose to walk through the Freshie Walk aka Roces St., the road that cuts through the Acad Oval and leads me to the two waiting sheds by the Engineering building. There is this overwhelming sense of control I get when I see people scrambling like mad to ride the always-full Katipunan jeeps at the FC while I make my way nonchalantly to the Freshie Walk. Why are they all still waiting there when you can just go to the other side? I feel like I'm carrying this wonderful new secret every time I cross the street to Roces while everyone else is waiting, anxious and not moving a single step.

It's not a very long walk, probably five-minutes at best, but I prefer to take it slow especially when it's around 5:30 and has just rained, the streets glowing with car lights and the reflection of a gray, dusky sky. It's my favorite part of the day actually, more than eating toasted raisin bread for breakfast or finally putting on my eye mask before bed. It's when I truly am by myself, only my thoughts and the songs on my iPod as my companions, but I don't mind.

These days I've been feeling more alone - not the suicidal kind, not the Oh I am so unloved kill me now kind. Just the I literally don't have anyone with me kind. I spend six days at the dorm, my classes are at odd hours, and I've been seeing people less and less each day. Sure, I have several other friends, but the circumstances of being seniors/graduating students allow us the convenience of seeing each other only by chance and surprise, not predetermined lunch and dinner dates.

More than that, however, there has been this looming sense of isolation that dawned on me a while back. My friends (and even I, myself) see me as this optimistic, cheery girl; the kind that will pull a sunshine out of my ass even when it's all cumulonimbus and rain showers. But certain realizations just made me doubt my faith in myself a little - how capable I really am of being alone, how worthy I am of the things I've been getting, how far I can go without having to break. Little nagging thoughts, really, but frustrating all the same.

It's obviously a lot more complicated than that. The funny thing is I haven't shared this with anyone, at least not completely; mostly because I'm a believer of making things go away when left unmentioned (which hardly ever works, but, well...) and partly because I just don't want anyone worrying about me. I mean, this is me obviously just over-thinking things, and at best I'll just be diagnosed PMS-ing, and at worst, as a whiny, selfish brat.

But really, I think, I'm just afraid of putting myself out there and letting anyone tell me what I'm afraid to hear: that yes, I am alone, and that yes, there is nothing else to do about it. I just have to deal with it. Which is, of course, the only possible recourse. I've said it to myself a million times before, I've had the "Yes, I can do it!" pep talk. However these days, it's just not cutting it. Because no matter how positive I try to make myself feel, it is still just myself cheering me on, and no one else. That's how it feels.

And so I take these walks, to remind myself why it's good to be alone and why having company doesn't always translate to getting somewhere. The relief I receive from the majestic green arch the trees form above me, the comfort I find in Stars or Metric or John Mayer or Sugarfree (especially Burnout, which I have officially declared my UP/senioritis song) - those are things not being alone cannot provide. I take these walks, if only to convince myself that at least even for a while, even for just the few precious minutes it takes to traverse Roces Street, I don't need anyone. I don't. I really don't.

But convincing always requires some level of delusion, doesn't it?


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