Bangkang papel.

The moment I knew we'd all be here, there was a burst of light that spread inside me. Maybe it was the familiarity of seven walls, the length of time spent inside them, the thrill of something new. Maybe it was excitement about being where I first learned to love the sun, where I brought then the coolest people to eat lunch with, where I left broken because I thought it was not time to leave. My best friend once told me, "Okay na kasi 'yon e." I wanna tell her now, "Okay na nga."

Or so I thought. I never thought the bad things might occur again. My mom always told me I forgot things only because I wanted to. She has never been wrong. One of the few days I've been here, though, one ugly moment came to me. It was crazy back then, someone was perhaps a rebel. I pushed the thought away right then. Things have changed already.

My history professor once claimed history cannot repeat itself. People and places could be the same, she said, but how to bring back time? I was in awe. Was. Because logic doesn't convince me now. Because even the lines are the same, even the words. And it's hard not to look back.

What harder is, though, is to remain to be the third person. I've felt anger myself, I've clenched teeth too. I've felt pain nudge my rib cages too, and I've counted one to ten many times. Often I just didn't want to do wrong. I just wanted to let the moment pass so I could feel good that I did not allow the bad to get the best of me. But for more than a few times I felt alarmed too. Because if I gave up, if I lost zeal to try to right what wrong there was other than in me, what would become of you? If we all grew tired of your circles, when would you learn your straight path? Anger is tempting, I must know. But right now I am consumed by pity. Because above all anger is the fact that I love you.

Let's tear your paper apart, set it aflame.