10 Word Story With K

Apr 15, 2015

K and I go way back our high school years. We were just kids when we knew each other, and we were hungry for love and loneliness. We’ve only met 4 or 5 times in our 8 years of friendship.

Perhaps it’s because we both have the same transient spirits. A couple of months ago, she and I met again in Siargao for Valentine’s Day. We drank a lot of rum and Coke, and coffee, smoked packs of cigarettes, and spent lazy afternoons lying around the Mess Hall of Paglaom Hostel.

In Siargao, particularly in that hostel, our afternoons were mundane, to say the least. I’d pick up and play the guitar and she’d sing along. We’d talk about loneliness, love, and loss, books that we love, writers that we read, artworks we’d wish to see. She’d also write on the linear tattoos on my body, one was “I loved you in the night more than I love you in the morning.”

You see, K is a shy writer. She’s better than me but she’d always brush it off when I say that. One afternoon, we spent hours trying to write poems.

A: I have kept running to a void that is you.
K: You are the sea in which I drown in to.
A: Someday you will no longer see me in a daze.
K: You give me the idea that I’m just a ripple.
A: Whenever you are away I only think you are sleeping.
K: I keep swimming with you but you keep treading water.
A: You can only think of me when I am around.
K: You keep me afloat but I keep you chasing waves.
A: I wish I won’t always keep coming back to you.
K: In the end we are just different bodies of water.

I miss K. We’d talk endlessly before, mostly about random things and we’d call each other sweet names — replacing the letters of our identity with song titles of sad singers. She once called me her Lilac Wine, mine I’d call her Sweetheart the Drunk. Now, as I type those words, I can only think of Jeff Buckley and the water he drowned in to.

All photos were taken with D’s film camera at Siargao Island


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