Luha

On the plane on the way to Toronto, I thought of my friends back home. I thought I would get over it already. I did just spend most of my August and September thinking about them and them only. Honestly, it felt like a cage, like I was enslaved to the thoughts of the moments we shared together, and that I couldn't do anything but wait until the next gala to feel that zest in my soul again, before I go back home and yearn for company as I lay on my bed at night. 

The train of never-ending thoughts about the people close to me began after our face-to-face Science Immersion Program or SIP from the 10th of August to the 12th. In truth, these thoughts fell biased towards my Pisay friends and experiences. It was the first time I've gone to my school's campus, and those two years of waiting for that, plus interacting with [some] of my batchmates and making new friends, finally blossomed into my reality. Being torn away from that long yearned-for dream felt like a piece of me was being taken away, like something that was drifting that I had no control over, only to wait for the next opportunity for that piece to drift back. All I could do was wait, and it was agonizing. I thought of Janah and Yanyan, my two gals and sleepover + grocery-shopping + make-up + do-basically-everything-with besties. I thought of Dasha, whom I believe was one of the first friends I've had ever, since preschool. I thought of Kim, of how comfortable he is with literally everybody, and of how he befriended me (which, took a while for me to get used to his tapping on the head, high-fives, etc.). I thought of CJ, whom I never thought I'd be friends with because of the lack of our online interactions, but I'm more than glad we did. He was, in fact, the first Pisay person (that wasn't my bestfriend, of course) to [unintentionally] find out about our immigration to Canada. Long story short, our mentor raised up the topic of our immigration to me and he heard it. What really got me attached to them was that we shared a common interest -- volleyball. Playing volleyball with them was one of the most joyous moments of my life since I transferred, and the thought that that would only last for such a short time gave a bittersweet sensation in my heart. 

 

I can't express the grief I've experienced for almost two months. The type of sadness that doesn't lead me to cry, but the type that doesn't leave me alone, that lives in my mind. 

Recognition day finally came, but it went by too fast. I was holding back tears while my friends were talking, and I was leaning my head on Yanyan's shoulder. Don't cry, they can't know. Don't cry, they can't know. They can't know that they were the only ones I've been thinking about for the past weeks, that I'm going to miss them, that I've been waiting for so long to see them, that I wanted the moment to last. But all things do come to an end, and perhaps if I pretended like I finally accepted the throbbing truth, I'd go by just fine. I cried on the way home. 

One week in on this Canada life, I thought to myself, I'm doing just fine. And I am, but it still hurts whenever I open Instagram or Facebook whenever I do. Not to mention my best friend's latest IG post which was a reply to the letter I wrote to her (I wrote my best friends letters).  

Excuse me for being overly sentimental, but I hope you guys are doing well there. 

I'd go back in time just to be with you again. 

Tumutulo ang luha habang isinusulat ang liham na ito,

Sodenitte