It was the fifth of the month and like the usual, we were
both on our way home from school. The only new thing about the evening was that
another friend was walking with the two of us. Ever heard of the cliché, “Three
is a crowd”? Well, not only have I heard of it, but I damn felt it that
evening. The sidewalk wasn’t as wide as I hoped it would be, leaving me with
two options: either I let you walk ahead of me, making me feel like a third
wheel or insist to walk together and then maybe get hit by a ten-wheeler truck.
Of course, I’m not that stupid. I chose the former. And so,
the story continues with the three of us walking on the way to where we wait
for the jeepney.
“Actually, the book was published way back in the 90’s,” my
dear cousin bragged. As if I don’t know that. “The Giver” was written by a Lois
(Not Louise, FYI, dear cousin) Lowry. Our friend didn’t share the sentiment
with me and seemed to be in awe of everything my cousin said. I don’t know if
it was just plain sarcasm on my friend’s part, but it doesn’t matter. That is
much better than only having a cellphone (that has even no load!) to keep me
sane throughout the evening stroll. Then, a familiar feeling came over me. The
whole world suddenly became a blur, and all I could make out were the hazy
flashes of lights from the sidelights of the cars that passed by the highway
and the figures of my friend and my cousin laughing out loud, talking together.
I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life.
I began thinking, “What do I have to do to be like her?”
There was my cousin, with this discernible light around her… I’ve always wanted
to be like her. I tried to be the crazy one, so that people would somehow
notice me, hoping they would love me. But there she was, loved by everyone, and
she didn’t even have to try too hard. Then, there’s me—the crazy one, the weird
one, the KSP one, the talented one… Some people said she was insecure of me.
Maybe she is. I cannot deny this one big truth though, that although there is a
huge possibility of her being insecure of me, there is this even larger reality
of me being more insecure of her.
I watched her footsteps. What do I have to do to be
like her? I thought.
And I continue to think of that up to now.