Hi.

How are you?

An introduction so cliche, yet that’s what I wouldn’t want to say when I would see you again. It’s 3:49am, and unknowingly, after watching a tv series, I was up all night thinking about you… and what you did to me?

For some, highschool is their fondest of memories. The climax to one carefree life bridging childhood and adulthood over one hell of a life as teens. Most people would want to get back to this poignant part of their life, and a part of me would also want to. But not first year high school. Not at the time when I met you.

Fourteen years. Fourteen. And yet, I could clearly see your face and I still remember your name. A name so common it always reminds me of that one hell year. I was the smallest of the class. A kid so scrawny and short-statured could easily hide from a bush or a post or a classmate. But, no. Clearly, you have already set your eyes for a target, and that kid can not fight back. How much of his allowance had you taken from him in totality? Does it come close to a hundred? I am sure it wouldn’t come close to a thousand. His daily allowance is only five pesos or ten when his parents have some extra from selling vegetables in the market. Just enough for some biscuit during recess to drive away the hunger from the morning class. Or so he thought. He would never know what’s coming for him that day… and the days after that.

Do you remember your assignments? How many of them have you answered? I hope it was much more than what you made that kid write for you. He wouldn’t want another punch coming down that little face of his.

Do you remember the name of that other person tagging along with you? I don’t, but I do remember his surname. The kid never understood why he always tagged along with you. Just like that kid, he was small and thin, but he was lucky never to have felt fear.

Going to school was the hardest. Every morning you, along with your “sidekick”, would block the kid’s way from entering the the classroom? Was it fun? And so he learned to wake up at five to be in school by six before the security guards open the classrooms. Well, at least he had ample time to study. Too bad the afternoon is of another story.

The best parts of that year was the roll call. The class adviser would call each student for the attendance sheet. Hearing you name called thrice was the climax. One day, two days, three days… you never came back. When the teacher announced that you dropped out of school, the class was worried. But not for that kid. For some, it would sound like the kid was a heartless, self-centered boy, but he never cared. That kid would finally have the chance to at least breath. To live the day and get over each class run smoothly. To meet new friends.

So… how are you?