dear bespren buko pie,

there was a brief downpour late this afternoon. according to ilia, it got in the way of graduation rehearsals at freedom park. i remember that during our graduation (ten years ago, can you dig it?) there was a light and lovely drizzle that brought everyone some relief from the heat. i could still remember where i sat - i was about three to four rows to the front, by the aisle and along that column to the side of the student union building. i also remembered picturing everyone from tops who graduated that april (there were a lot of us who marched). i still had that pixie haircut on, that sky-blue shift dress with the sabrina-cut neck, teardrop earrings and low black heels.

there were lots of photos taken afterwards and they had to be conducted amidst the rush to give farewells to teachers and friends who were there, the mad rush to baker hall to return the togas and caps and for those who took the long journey to the campus, the task of navigating the way out of uplb towards dreaded saturday traffic. the last detail was not a concern; only the inconvenience of walking home with my stupid heels was the nagging thought.

i never got to ask you what thoughts were running through your head during the whole exercise. were you excited? were you anxious about the months ahead? by the way, did you already have rural high in mind as early as that time? how did you land the teaching post there?

i was in a juncture then. by the time graduation day came, i've decided on several things. one, i toughened my resolve to disregard any callbacks from the various corporations who responded to the applications i passed, forms i accomplished only because my co-majors were doing them and i was killing time. two, i accepted the fact that i failed step one of lae, which was, once again, a lemming decision. now i laugh at how i bawled about it over pizza with grace, who made it to the interview round. three, a decision to shift from economics to comparative literature, one made over the same order of pizza with grace, who had the ingenuity to bring the idea on the table. the pizza slices and the soda were consumed fast. the idea consumed me.

ten years later, the idea still consumes me. i told you of my plans and the gleaming answer i finally found. if i could only describe to you the joy i felt when i saw it smiling back at me, as if it were saying 'what took you so long finding me?' i wanted to shout back 'i was detained.'

while i related my jubilation to you, i learned of your decision to retreat to your cave. retreat as long as you want. i certainly benefitted from my stab at some form of retreat. the distance i was able to achieve the past year saved me in so many ways. now, i see everything around me to be always in me. i used to be deathly scared of this seemingly monstrous prospect but now, i regard them lovingly because the interconnections are never more clear.

my dear, some days will be as light-hearted as the chats and phonecalls we have. and some days will be very, very dark places we never dreamed of chartering. whatever day i may chance upon you, i will hold your hand because you asked me to. i will still hold your hand even if you never asked for it anyway.

always,
your bespren bipolar burr