TIME

I really don’t have a lot of it right now since I’m cramming (yes, cramming, there’s a first for everyone) several articles. I try not towork on my solitary day-off (God had Sunday, I deserve a Tuesday) so I need to finish everything before sunlight, but my mind is so jumbled with self-imposed misery that I want to iron things out here first before doing anything. What better place to clear my head than Precious Blog, who has saved me from so many headaches and heartaches in the past year.

 Intro 2: do you like puzzles? Come play with me.

I always think time is the best doctor. Seriously, it heals better than most remedies I know. For example, I remember tripping and scratching my shin on a hollow block back in third grade. I thought it was the end of the world, not so much because of the pain and bloo,d but because I feared it would scar. Scars last forever, a permanent reminder that I was clumsy during recess.  I needed to wash it with Safeguard (ano pa ba?), put iodine, and dress it. But when I got home, the pain had gone. I actually forgot to treat it. Before the year ended, the scab peeled off and thankfully, no scars.  Who needs Safeguard, ha? In more mature terms though, when I’m upset, everything looks so much nicer a few hours after. Time is my friend, it makes the world better—sometimes slowly, sometimes a little too quickly but better nonetheless.

Lately though, my sturdy, fail-safe remedy has been making me so much more… pensive and unsure. Call it maturity or just pure psychological masochism… or maybe just thinking too much (a bad habit I inherited from my cousin, you know who you are), but I’ve been wishing that time could(‘ve) rearranged some points in my life differently. For example, I wish that I didn’t spend so much time (and money) listening to F4. I have two of everything (tapes, CDs, DVDs, posters, cards—one set for everyday use and the other is not to be touched by unprotected human hands). I could’ve spent that time actually practicing my bad Chinese.  I wish high school lasted longer. I wish I had taken more time studying for that Sci10 test that could’ve made me magna cum laude (academic greed is not a sin! Haha Sobrang lapit e!).

I keep looking at old stuff—other people’s and my own—and it made me realize that time totally ripped me off in the allocation department. Like it allotted more time for useless crap and less time for seemingly valuable moments. The happy times always feel the shortest, now why is that Father Time? Why torment us with that impression?

With that said, to you I wasted time with, I’m sorry I didn’t take the time getting to know you more. We could’ve saved months (a year and a half?) doing other things we really cared for. And to you I want more time with, I’m sorry we don’t have enough yet… and that we didn’t spend it at a period when everything felt simpler and sweeter—when your biggest problem was waking up with a zit on your nose and mine was leaving my neck tie at home; when the world was just with each other–none of this tax, utang shiz.

***

I make myself feel better with annoying ol’ Summer Finn:

Summer: I just woke up and knew

Tom: Knew what?

Summer: What I was never sure with you.

And spare me the innuendos, but maybe, just maybe, it’s not about the length after all.

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