Yesterday I found myself standing in the middle of a road. I don’t think I’d have noticed, really, except I heard a sudden loud honk and when I looked up there was a truck right in front of me. It was an odd experience. I’m usually a very good pedestrian – not good in the sense of being rule-abiding, but good in the sense that I usually know my way around the city’s more crowded and dangerous streets. So to find myself in the middle of a road, not knowing how I’d gotten there – it was a bit strange.
I had been thinking about my room in my parents’ house, that’s why I zoned out. That room – my room, I suppose – I’ve only ever slept in it a handful of times. When I left for college, that part of the renovated house hadn’t been finished yet, so there was no chance for me to stay there and actually feel like that space is mine. And now, whenever I go home for a vacation, I don’t like sleeping in that room. I always end up waking in the middle of the night, and then I’d see the shadows dancing on the curtains, their silhouettes long thanks to the street lamp right outside the window. So when I’m home, I insist on staying with Manang and Inday. My room is always empty.
How funny it is that here in Manila, the space I’m renting for an astronomical amount is tinier than the room I have for free at home. I could always just give up on everything and decide to live on the second floor of my parents’ house – they’d take care of me, for sure, and I’d never have to clean or do my laundry or worry about what I’m going to eat for my next meal IF I’m going to eat at all – but that would also mean eight o’clock curfews and the nagging reminder that I’d decided to give up.
So yeah, I ended up standing in the middle of a road in Quezon City, wondering about all that.