I used to live for one smile, one pair of bright eyes, and one person. The reasons behind that maybe obscure or demented, but I did live for those things. Call me crazy but I did live for a smile and a pair of eyes that tells me, “You got me with this one.” The means by which my living came to be was through my writings, or to what I call as my children. They almost met their demise during my hell days – the time of my life when that individual moved on pass me and my children.
Slowly, I learned and realized that I wrote for myself and for an audience all at the same time. Slowly, I realized that I was wrong to think that the only audience that I could have was an individual.
Now I understand better.
With all the pent up frustrations that came with the withdrawal of emotions and habit, I searched for an outlet that could foster my needs, I needed something or someone to barrage my intellect and writing capacity. I looked for Miss J – the infamous professor that could kill with her sheer presence and stare; and where could I find Miss J? There, at the school organ.
The rest followed suit.
With that, I learned how to appreciate an audience that is anonymous. The interaction between the reader and the writer is indirect, and though there is still an interaction going on, for me, it still seems bland.
I never thought I would see another smile, or another pair of bright eyes. I was content with writing and publishing my childreneither on the school organ, and its’ literary folio, or posting them on the internet through my blogs. But for some insane reason, a friend of mine proved me wrong when he decided to use one of my poems in our literary folio for his Philippine Literature class.
“Migo, tawag ka dun sa klase namin. Gusto ka makilala nung prof,” he said.
“Ha? Bakit? Ano ba yung sinabi mo,” I asked.
“Wala, inexplain ko lang sa kanya yung mga sinabi mo kanina.”
“Ah, sige.”
“Miss, here he is,” my friend told his professor when we arrived inside their room.
Silence.
Everyone looked at me. Their eyes were like diamonds: they glistened, and the whites of their eyes showed the reflection of their emotions, much less their souls.
“Are you okay,” the professor asked me.
“Yes miss, of course,” I answered.
There was another round of silence.
I smiled at the whole class. The whole class smiled back at me.
“I mean, are you okay now, you’re not depressed,” she reiterated.
“Yes miss, I am okay, I wrote that piece almost a year ago.”
I looked around the classroom; everyone was still looking at me. I could see that their smiles and their eyes are betraying their souls.
“Are you very much in-love now?”
“Yes,” I answered. Everyone was now smiling.
I looked around the classroom. All eyes were on me. I felt like Mr. Shakur.
“Thank you Migo, for gracing us with your presence,” she told me.
“No miss, THANK YOU.”
What’s the poem?
Filed under: experiential
