they grow old without us knowing it

As I lay on my back on my old bed in my old room, I couldn't help but notice the ceiling. it has grown considerably shabby since the last time i lived here. the white paint has begun to fade while everywhere huge patches of brown stains had materialized. the socket in which a new light bulb is attached is dark with soot and the wires snaking out of it is enveloped with cobwebs. the rest of the room, however, remained the same: the luggage and boxes are still on top of the cabinet, my brother's paintings are still on top of the bookshelf and the magazines from the 90s are still stacked on one side, withering and gathering more dust. i wondered whether we were aware when we dumped them there that they would still be in the same place after a few years. were we aware that the last time we set aside these things were the last time that we would take interest in them? now, they stay forlornly in their place slowly being forgotten. somehow this thought saddened me. it was as if they were anchors that signaled the end of a trip. they were like monuments gathering moss and stinking of history. the beginning of an end, as it were.

i never thought apartments could grow old but of course they do. sometimes, they are the ones that first show signs of aging: the floors lose their shine, the wooden furniture turns into a much deeper color and even the light fades, encumbered by many happy and sometimes sad nights. it is only when one notices these changes that one slowly feels the great passage of time. it is only when one realizes that he has grown old as well. i always thought of old houses as charming with secrets and treasures lurking behind the walls and curtains. but now i realized that when it is your own house you would want it to be forever vibrant and youthful.

recently ive been thinking about how it's better to be that someone who leaves rather than be the one left behind. i remember visiting the town where i grew up in a few years ago. i was fresh out of the university and ive been away from almost 10 years. i remember never peeling my sight away from the car window. i would cock my head every time i thought i saw something familiar because everything seemed unfamiliar. we were already inside the camp when i realized that we were actually threading the grounds where i used to play in. the entire place seemed to have shrunk that i could now hold it inside the palm of my hand. i felt exhilarated. whoever said that immortality is something only the youth enjoyed was right. back then i believed that i could conquer the world. but now, as i lay staring at the ceiling, the same ceiling that i've stared at for most of my youth, i am suddenly reminded of my own mortality and the fact that life has finally caught on me. apparently, all that running was useless because little did i know that i've been secretly settling down all these years. and somewhere, deep in the dark recesses of my mind, my own bodega is already slowly being filled with boxes that will inevitably turn dusty in just matter of time.


Anonymous said…
one of the most sincere posts i've read online
bwisit! said…
uy salamat salamat!
Kane said…
So we grow old, and oftentimes, we are caught unaware. We surprise even ourselves.

I love this entry. I like reading people's observations about time and mortality. Makes me nostalgic, long for what was... a little.


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