memories of my so-called melancholic life

i do not talk a lot about my childhood.  and the only time i liked to talk about my adolescent life was to recount the love story that never was between me and a guy named paopao.

i do not know when did the conviction started but i always thought i had a melancholic childhood life (up until high school graduation).  we were not rich and i didn’t get a lot of toys or opportunities for childhood fun like most kids did.  i was not popular and my Maggieat5or6 bestfriend, Jane, was.  i was not at the top of my class (not until i was in junior highschool) and i was way worse in extracurricular.  i cannot sing nor dance because the few times i did, they were embarassing moments and those moments amputated me from my vocal chords and my gracefulness.  i did not have a lot of friends at school because i was not the type of girl who would have a lot of friends at school and because i do not talk to any of the girls who would befriend Jane (in the end, she—i dunno what she was thinking— but she stuck with me).  i was bad at socializing, instead, i wrote poems starting fourth grade and wrote short stories that went from my classmate’s schoolbag to the another’s in sixth grade.  i watched a schoolmate named Gamboy from afar, the first crush i ever had because he looked like Moses Yen, and endured a long period of indifference from him. 

but i was good at math. hell, i was amazing at math.  that was where i feel superior and powerful.  i had formed a bond with that field of science only few kids can fathom and although my first heartbreak was caused by not making it to the regional quiz bowl, i did not forsaken it.

but the memory is a nasty machine.  when it looks back to the past that was, it looked at it as a whole.  how was my childhood like? and the things i first wrote about, those are the ones i remember first.

Yesteryears2 i thought i had a melancholic childhood.  i was wrong.

last christmas 2006, mother stumbled upon old photographs.  photographs dating as old as 26 years ago.  it looks like when we survived the fire that early year in ’92, we were able to save some photographs.  we leafed through them and remembered.  we remembered how fun it was and how simple life was.   we can even recall the detailed history of the photos and while doing so, we laughed some more. 

it isn’t true i had a melancholic childhood.  i was a happy kid.  generally, it was a happy life.  sure, i was not popular in grade school nor i was well-liked.  i did Maggiejessejoynot have the usual stuff the rest of my classmates have.  but it was a happy one.  i remember the afternoons at the back of VICMAR playing “siatong”, “batolata”, “heaven and earth”, “hide and seek”, “bahay bahayan”, “power-power” and god knows what else we call the games we played with my cousins and our common friends.  i remember the beach outings with the Echovermaggiejesse_1 entire BARGO family and our close family friends, with us running around in our wet undies while some elders looked on and some cooked the food.  i remember the christmas parties; nobody ever misses it.  everybody was there and nobody was in a hurry to leave.

how could i have thought otherwise? 

maybe it was what happened next that clouded my memory.  perhaps, i became an entirely different person when i attended the university.  and because i became different from who i really was, i looked at the past in an entirely dissimilar perspective. 

maybe that was what happened.

if a five-year-old me would look at the 26-year old that i am now, Maggieplaza she wouldn’t be able to recognize me.  i am sure she would be as proud, i had gone where her imagination has never approached. 

but what if i ask her if she is happy with what she sees?

i miss her badly. i wanna know her more.  i cannot even remember her as well as i can remember the perception of my past that never was.

that is enough to make me cry.

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