Last weekend, we finally moved into our new place. I spent two days packing and unpacking things and everyone finally realized just how much books and magazines and journals and thingamajigs we all have. Haha! Mom gave away most of the things she kept aside for the reasons she had already forgotten. Daddy decided to give away what was left of our massive collection of encyclopedia (we were all nerdy kids, what do you expect?) and us kids filled a huge balikbayan (there’s the clue :D) box of clothes and shoes and bags that we no longer use. I gave away two old pairs of the most expensive shoes I ever bought with my own money and a pair of boots I no longer wear. Lucky cousins, I know.
As I was unpacking my journals, I came across the ones I used from 2007-2008, the years that I still consider, somehow, magical because of the romance, the friendship, and the adventure that made me who I am today and landed me one of the biggest writing gigs I ever had…so far. The one from 2007 was tattered and old and smelled of faint mud because I fished it out of the flood waters during the aftermath of the super typhoon Ondoy. Yes, I kept it; after what happened and after all these years. The one from 2008 smelled of unused pages. I hardly used it but because it was bloody red and I was in Starbucks gaga mode that time, I bought it.
I’ve read and reread and relived the pages several times. Sometimes I feel tingly, sometimes I feel rage, and on rare occasions, I feel that I wanted to go back and punch some people in the face. Regardless of my mood, I always feel nostalgic as the pages take me back to the past; also surprised…of how much and how often I used to write my thoughts down.
I was about to place the journals in my cabinet when I remembered what Rio told me last week. Better yet, I remembered Rio’s whammy on me. I took a hard, long look at the journals and realized they were keeping me from moving forward. After all, they were reminders of the bygone years that I still regarded as beautiful…until now.
I thought of finally throwing them away.
So I called Rio, Ria, and Jet to ask what they think of what I was about to do. They never picked up. That’s when I realized that it was something that I needed to decide on my own. And so, with one last heavy sigh, I threw them away.
And then I fished them back from the garbage because I realized they hold all my contact information and accounts’ passwords. I tore out those pages and, finally (finally!) threw the journals away.
When Rio finally replied an hour later, I told her my latest realization:
Excerpt: “I threw them away because I now see that they represent friends I’ve lost (Sam), friends who are fake (Eunice), and the affair with the ‘light of a dead star’ (Dexter). Ergo, it represents a life that I don’t live anymore. As for the memories, I’ll make new ones. More amazing than the ones I’ve already lived.”
Yes, I can now say their names out loud here for the entire world to see. Why? Because I’ve outlived it. I no longer have qualms about saying just how much bullshit those people are actually made of. I’ve held the falling bridge together for as long as I can remember that I could feel the weight of it on my shoulders. So now, I’m burning it down for good. There are instances when you need to burn bridges to allow the light to show you the way.
As I try to make use of what I’ve learned in The Secret, I realize all the more that people are do responsible for their own happiness. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Wherever I go and whoever I meet, I can look anyone straight in the eye and be as proud as I want to be. I’m thankful for the new job, new set of friends with new traditions (vodka shots for newcomers in BGC) newly revived old passions (publishing), a brand new GLOBAL (literally and figuratively speaking) arena, and a new home to start the coming year.
Yes, I’m just like everyone else who has a past.
But unlike before, it no longer holds me back.
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