My Blog

When people ask me how old I am, I’d always make them guess about my age. While men would answer "Uhm, 23? 25?…" (which by the way, still make me smile eventhough I know they’re trying to flatter me) women would answer "…26? 27? 28?…". Lesson learned— never make people guess, just answer the question.

My friend and I were having coffee one Saturday night, when I felt the weight of a birthday on me. It’s not about about getting older (or looking older), everybody worries about that, nor worrying how I’d get the money to treat my friends out, or what to do on that "special" day with my family. I feel heavy because I still consider myself unaccomplished at the age of 23, like I’m some experiment awaiting completion and people are banking on its successful results. My friend said, it’s a normal feeling you get when your birthday is coming up. You assess you life and evaluate yourself and what you’ve done over the year, what you’ve done over the past 22 years. Frankly, birthday or not, I feel this every fucking day of my life.

My relatives would ask me, "What are your plans?" I’d reply appropriately but I really don’t know what these "plans" theyre talking about. Are they talking about getting married? Or are they saying they’d want me doing something else than what I’m doing now? I honestly don’t know what they want from me. And I honestly don’t know what I want from and for myself.

I’m probably being overserious about this. So, I dont have a plan…YET and I’ll have to take care some things before I decide on anything. For now, I’m not complaining and I’ll know what to do when everything is in it’s proper place and time.

The MRT has been my comfort zone every now then. Let’s put aside the fact that it never seems to run out of people and every damn day I have to stand during the whole time and maintain my grab on one of those handles on the metal railing.

Amidst the overwhelming number of people everyday and an atmosphere of mixed perspiration and humidity, I find every so often, a sense of loneliness embraced with hope just being there.

The other day, I watched a couple hold hands the entire time they were standing. The man placed a protective arm around his girlfriend and whispers words I cannot comprehend but from the look on the girl’s face, the words provided comfort in light of the obvious stressful situation and urge to scream.

Yesterday, going home, I watched a couple with a baby. The mother is holding the baby steadily while the baby tries to stand on its feet. The father on the other hand had an unreadable expression on his face while watching his child and wife, then he turned to his wife and kissed her on the cheek, just like that.

Being single lets me appreciate these moments and while they make me realize I am lonely, all the more I’m hopeful that someday, I’m going to have one that will last. It’ll be me plus one.