Maybe when someone I know reads this, s/he would either be amused or incredulous, because I am rarely sad, let alone crying. To most of my friends and acquaintances, I am the female version of Patch Adams, excessively happy. Your usual class clown, people have known me to elicit at least a good laugh when I walk in a room (considering that I’m corny and all). A friend told me I radiate happiness, saying that when she wants to confront somebody, she would not go near me, because I can melt that anger away. My family has known me as the crazy one, doing things that drive the whole family to stitches. I radiate so much happiness; my mother cannot believe how I can get all that positive energy. But right now, I cannot muster even a smile to show it to the world. I am alone, and I hate it.

Growing up, I have been independent. Childhood stories from my aunts relate that when I have my books, food and Sesame Street, I could be left alone to fend for myself. My parents were both working when I was a kid, until my mom stopped working when my younger sister was born. During that time, I was with my yaya, teaching me how to dress and bathe myself and do my homework. When my parents come home from work, I’m fed and bathed, watching television until my bedtime. I rarely ask for help, except for maybe financial things (read: allowances). This is the usual reason when my parents and I have a row—I just ask for their help when I need money. Thinking about it, I feel so alone, and I hate it.

Now that I am working, I am more independent than ever. My work requires me to go out of town, and for some of my friends this is their idea of a perfect job. In my happier moments, I think the same thing. Imagine going around the country, visit places as exotic and beautiful as I am right now, the office not just taking the tab, but paying you for it. Fabulous, right? But this means there are times that I have to travel alone and like right now, be in a hotel room all by yourself with only the television and rare text messages (thank goodness, Globe reaches Palawan!) from friends and family to keep me company. I was encouraged to explore the city, but circumstances have denied me from doing so, aside from the fact that I am scared to go alone (growing up in a city like Manila, with strict parents in tow, robs you of that sense of adventure). Or maybe it’s just me—I don’t want to be seen alone, and I hate this feeling.

I guess I am not used to being this alone in so far a city, away from family and friends in a place where I thrive in the pollution and the traffic. I wish it would be at least tomorrow, so I could start to do what I have been sent here to do, so that the day after tomorrow would only be a day away, and my boss would already be here for a meeting, and the next day I would fly back to Manila. That way, I can make things bearable and I can easily be comforted by what Little Orphan Annie said, “Tomorrow’s a day away”.

Maybe it’s just me, but don’t you find it hard to eat by yourself? Or go watch a movie by your lonesome? Or maybe go sightsee? (self-confessed loners are exempted from answering). In my case, it is. Maybe I’m used to be surrounded by a lot of people and laughter when I go out to do that. Maybe I’m scared of the stares of pity people give your way. Maybe because I’m in the middle of an emotional roller-coaster and I don’t know what to do except cry while I channel surf. I am all alone, and I hate this feeling.

“So what happened back there?”

The boy closed his eyes and leaned back. He sighed as he felt tears squeeze through. It wasn’t very noticeable with the glasses on.

“Your damn boyfriend got drunk. I don’t know why. He’s got no reason to get drunk. If anyone should have gotten drunk, it should have been me. Not him.”

The girl stood up and went inside. It was two in the morning, and everyone else was either relaxing or sleeping. He could feel the warmth of the coffee in his hands. It was the only warmth in him he could feel.

He finished his coffee, went inside, and washed his hair and face. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was flushed, and yet his skin felt cold and hard.

The bespectacled boy went out to the living room with his friend. His friend wore a black shirt, black pants, and a goatee to the party. He had no alcohol in his system.

“What’s the matter?”

Tears fell from the bespectacled boy’s eyes. He hugged his legs and rocked himself. He was sobbing now, while the goateed friend’s hand clasped his shoulder.

“Is it about her?”

The bespectacled boy looked at his friend. He was thankful that his friend was there.

“I love her. I am in love with her. But she will never care for me the same way that I care for her. She will never care.”

Those words were enough for the goateed friend. He felt the pain in his friend’s eyes. He knew that the bespectacled boy would not tell him anything else, not unless he says something. He cleared his throat.

“It’s better to have love and lost—“

“Not when you love every morning, not when you think that this might be the day when she finally cares for you, when she finally sees you and loves you. Not when you think all this, only to have it all come crashing down, everything you expected destroyed at the end of the day. Not when you know that even though you felt all these things, all this pain and hurt, you will expect to feel the same way again tomorrow. That tomorrow you will love, and lose, her again. It’s not better when you love, and you lose, every single day, and know that you will come back for more.”

The bespectacled boy slumped himself on the floor, face down. He could feel, the cold marble, so lonely. He felt his heart turn cold the same way the marble was cold. His heart was now stone, empty and hard.

The goateed friend looked pitifully at the bespectacled boy. He knew that what his friend was saying was right. He had to make him feel better.

“Who knows? Maybe this will be it. Maybe they will end it. Maybe—“

“Who are you fooling? I know that whatever I do, whatever I did, will count for nothing tomorrow. I know that he will apologize, she will forgive him, and they will continue living their happy lives. There was this time, when she told me that they were on a break, a cool-off she told me. I was sad for her, but at the same time I was elated. I thought that this might be it. My big break. After I talked with her, I started baking. It was one of those small things I could do well. I baked her a brownie cake, I knew she liked chocolate. I boxed it and went to bed. It was about three in the morning when I finished. I bought a card the following day. We have the same schedule in one of our classes, and I thought I could give it to her then. As I walked along with a smile on my face, I saw her sitting there. Beside her was her boyfriend. And that stinks since I so wanted to give her that cake. I was hurt badly, and I haven’t learned a thing from it.”

The bespectacled boy was not crying now. He was weeping painfully. His goateed friend could feel tears come to his eyes. The boy continued.

“I’ve made a couple of years worth of wrong choices.”

“My friend, you think you made wrong choices. But in reality, there are no wrong choices. The decisions that you make, when you think, plan, consider, rethink, and execute, could never be wrong. When you are true to what you believe in, when you are true to what you feel, you can never make wrong choices.”

The boy looked up. He sat up, wiped his tears, and cleaned his glasses. The goateed friend helped him up.

“Come on. You need to sleep. Not on the floor though. There are other people in this house. It will be better in the morning.”

The boy smiled, and looked at his friend.

“No, it won’t.”

The friend smiled back, patted the boy’s back, and looked forward.

“I know.”

Hindi ko alam kung paano nagsimula ang malaking kahibangang ito. Year 2000 nung magkakilala tayo. Hindi ko maisip kung paano tayo naging close. Aloof ka. Suplada raw ako. At lalong hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit kita naging crush. Hindi kasi kita type. Basta ang alam ko, nagising na lang ako isang araw at na-realize ko na crush pala kita. Yun din yung araw na naging close tayo. Too close nga ata kasi may ilang friends tayo na tinatanong ako noon kung ano ba talaga tayo.

Fast forward to the present. Year 2003 na. After more than three years of being friends -- exchanging countless e-mails, sending friendly and mushy text messages, numerous gimiks, watching concerts, inuman sessions at kung anu-ano pa, eto pa rin tayo. Friends. Kahit may ilang instances na rin na muntik na nating i-cross yung fine line between frienship and love, friends pa rin tayo.

Friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Alam ko sasabihin ng iba: "At least friends kayo." Yeah, I know. At least friends tayo. I should be happy, right? Dapat. Siguro. Sana. Ewan. Minsan kasi di ko maiwasang magtanong ng mga what-ifs.

Ewan ko ba. Naguguluhan na nga ako sa sitwasyon natin, eh. Minsan, there are times when I would be so sure na gusto mo rin ako. Tapos biglang mag-iiba na naman ang ihip ng hangin and I wouldn't be so sure about anything anymore. Naisip ko na dati na itanong na lang sa yo kung ano ba talaga tayo kaya lang natakot ako. Baka in doing so, I would push you away. Eh, ayokong mawala ka sa buhay ko, so di ko na lang tinuloy.

Kaya eto ako ngayon. Naghihintay pa rin. Nagwi-wish na sana maliwanagan ka na kung ano ba talaga gusto mong mangyari sa buhay mo. Hirap sa yo, ang gulo mo. Hindi ko alam kung friend lang ba tingin mo sa akin o kung gusto mo rin ako. Hindi ko alam kung torpe ka, manhid, walang pakialam o kung tanga ka lang talaga.

Sana ma-realize mo na kung ano ba talaga ako sa buhay mo. Sana ma-realize mo na mahal mo rin ako. Sabi ni Carrie Bradshaw: "I have faith that someday I would meet someone who would be sure that I am the one." Sabi ko naman: "I have faith that someday we would meet again and when that time comes, we would both be sure that we are the one for each other." Sana ma-realize mo na I am the one for you. At sana pag dumating na yung time na yon, mahal pa rin kita.