Nikki,

Heya. So, is the high back yet? I hope it is!

This is new to me, the whole typing out a P-letter. Then again, you're not like any other rectora I've written for (and I meant it when I said if I could pick a co-rector, I'd pick you). You're a whole lady apart, and like how you always got the "breaking news" on my life, you get the first ever P-letter typed out!

So let's start. Game? Game.

I want to thank you for everything, Nikki, for the 2-3 years I've known you since I kissed your feet. I think it was lucky that I became pretty good friends with you at a time when my life wasn't set right. Conversely, you had your trying moments too.

Stuck in my head was what I remember how you became near to me: the one funny conversation we had heading to A38 (if I can remember), when I was driving and you were telling me about frustrating shit. Yet despite the drama all the while you were preparing to sponsor your friends, and spent nearly all your money for their P-night. Then there were the YM conversations when I would tell you about it, and how we came closer. Hell, one of which was even a "live feed", with you helping me say the right thing during a very painful exchange.

And you were there, like (almost) always. You pulled through.

And I pulled through too; it was because you were there for me that I made it through a lot of dark days. And it was because you let me in too, that I was able to make it for you. I often prayed to Jess to send people angels to look out for us. I think, this time, Jess decided to do away with winged mythical creatures or what I thought was "just luck". He sent real people. He sent you. And I hope somehow, at some times, He sent me.

It wasn't always gloomy - we had fun too. I remember A36 with you composing the hit single "Pedophile Si Ben." I remember you springing me to Starbucks Promenade on my 24th birthday so I could chill with you and the Agustins - never mind that you had your own stressful morning at the Ateneo Football Field with Fred, you were there for me. I remember dinner out after Ateneo won the basketball championship, I remember going to Galleria with you and Grace and Cy, and karaoke at Josh's birthday, I remember editing your yearbook write-up. They may not all be much long term, but they loom large, still, even if they're ancient and old thoughts now.

Honestly? I miss being there for you. Things are different: we operate around different circles, and we spend time with different friends. We're always at Days, but we've got our own lives running too. Our time talking now is shorter, our attention more divided, our feet directing us differently to different paths. We’d look out for each other less - we’d just care for others more now, I notice.

But to me, Nikki? You'll always still be "first to know", even if, well, I can't find you, or seek you out, or even if you can't be told what's happened to me first. (I’ll still tell you; I trust you, after all.)

You're one of the brightest, most powerful reasons why I'm still staffing, why I still believe in Jess, and why I still believe in Days. I look at the times you've told me, about how hard things are for you, and how you still held on to Jess, still forgave, still forced your bitterness away. I remember how you cared for me, even when I was a jerk, and how you were there for others when nobody was there for them too, and how, each time you credited it to Jess.

At days like these, I can't help but feel like I'm standing in front some lovely work of art, or some grand Wonder of the World, or the most gorgeous lady on the planet. How you love people makes a big guy like me feel small.

And it makes me say "Jess, kung kaya niya, kaya ko pa."

So. Even if Jess needs me and needs you to look after other people now, I want you to know for every day of every year that I breathe, yes, I think you are so fucking awesome.

This letter can't really express it, but I tried.

I love you Nikki. Till next time.


-Raph
a24, sd1

Rain Song


It's okay, you say,
as I lift the umbrella over your head.

I like the rain, you said,
your curvaceous body taking space beside me
as we walked, overcast clouds overhead.

I put the umbrella away, watching the sky
sink into gray seas: the trees
the seaweed and you and I
no greater creatures than fish
awash near a concrete Katipunan Avenue coast.

It is near dusk, and the drizzle
doesn't let up, and we
are closely walking.

Rain calls people closer, I say,
watching everything - friends and lovers
under umbrellas.
But since we didn't use one, what were we?

You ignored me, pointing instead
to oil-slick rainbows on streets,
with your small slippers under your feet like the pot of gold -
little things I notice not right away.
We walked and you were near,

and your soft hair smelled like earth,
like soil that will one day
cover you, cover me,
cover our bodies on our deep descent down.
It's true:
your hair smells of death, of endings, of destiny.

Then and there, watching little things,
I watch water wash over our cheeks, necks, backs,

and my hands want to do the same,
my fingers like falling fire,
your breath the hearth I will call home,
your skin sanctified like a last supper
my mouth craves to consume.

But it is raining,
you walk forward to shade, and I
am always, always
a few steps slower,
a few steps behind you.


current music: True Faith - Bukas Liligaya Din Ako

The Apology



Nelli,

Heya.

I have a confession to make: I have never, ever, ever kissed a girl.

No bullshit! I've never kissed a girl. No girl has ever wanted to kiss me. Not only have I ever not had sex, I've never had a girl say she liked me (out loud). I've never seen a girl naked in person before. I've never gotten so far as to have somebody think of me "in that way". Yes, I've been offered and I've turned down the more physical, flirtatious advances I've had from girls with one drink too many, but that's as far as my romantic history goes.

Then there was this girl who held my hand one stray evening and made me feel by her words and deeds, by her constant asking of my attention and my time and energy that I was worth keeping. That was Mela. And you were at May's party: you saw how she decided not to keep me, how cold and distant we are now, and I promised myself never to be used up by anyone like that again.

Romantically, I've always been a loser. I've never been great with girls. I know how to get along with girls, have fun and play around and show them a good time, but I've never taken it further than the casual laughter-laded conversation, nor had I found anybody worth giving more to.

And finally, there's you. You, whom I've kissed on the cheek, held hands with, bought flowers for, seen in a bikini, walked together with on a beach, and even shared a bed to sleep with. You who I watch American Idol with, you who slept on my couch, in my car, and in chairs and tables around the house. You who bought me cheese at Santi's, fries at McDonald's, strawberry wine at Baguio and cupcakes at Sonja's. You who shared coffee with me, shared secrets with me, and even tried to set me up on a date with her best friend. All that, in a span of two and three months, when other friends I've made wouldn't dare do these for me all through the years I've known them.

You told me that I was your best guy friend. You told me about the boys you used to date, confided about your history and more. You told me things like how you have a tendency to depend on people, and one of these people you said was me. And you even once said that if things were different, we'd be together and that I really just wasn't what you wanted now.

Of all that, what truly truly struck me was how you said I was your best guy friend. Because nobody ever said that to me before. Nobody made me feel valuable like you ever did, and not in a romantic way, but in a way like a truly deeply affective companion.

And that's because, over the past two glorious months, I've come to depend on you like nobody. I've come to find some validation in knowing that you were always there. That if the chips were down Nelli would still make my day. That you always had the best thing to say about the gloomiest subjects, because you wouldn't joke about it; you'd take me seriously. That you trusted me, and it was a world of joy knowing you did.

None of my friends have been as open as you have been to me. It means so much that you are, that you don't mince words, that you counted me close to you, as I do you.

Then again, my friends will all say the same thing: the closer you get to Raph, the more likely he's going to hurt you. And at times, he won't even realize it until it's too late - you'll just get hurt.

And hurt you I did. I'm not proud of that Saturday at Ate Mott's. I'm not proud of my behavior with you and Gelo at Trinoma. I'm not proud of the doubts, fears, suspicions I've harbored and told no one - how you might be just using me, or taking advantage of my feelings, or that you were being reckless with my heart by dating around, especially when I was still courting you.

The thing is? All these are so, so small, compared to what I did. And while I promised to do you right, I didn't do you right there. For that, I'm so sorry.

You see, I wanted to be ever so closer to you, so much because you've come to mean this much to me that I was so wrapped up in it, that I couldn't tell apart being in love, and being loved, and actually loving. And I forgot it didn't need t o be in that way either.

I took for granted the ways and sacrifices you'd used to make for us to hang out, for us to be friends, and for you and I to get to know each other better. I forgot how attentive you've always been to my every mood shift, my every facial tick, or even the food I'd eat and the way I'd drive. I forgot how present you have awlays tried to be in my life, and how you'd share me yours by meeting your friends and by walking me around Malate.

I forgot that's how you cared for me, when I took them for granted, or took them as something different. That's how hungry I was for you, I guess, that in the end I just took and took and didn't realize I was hurting you, or making things hard for you.

Today, I'm alone at home on a Saturday, and I look outside at the driving rain clean the air like a cool bath. Summer has ended. Time away to think and reflect has been kind. You are right; I do need time away, I do need growing up and moving forward to do.

And as grateful as I was to finally fall in love this summer, I want to start the rainy season knowing I found something better: I found you, my once-constant companion.

All I ask is reconciliation.

If there's anything I promise you, it's that I treasure this friendship we've forged. Thanks to you I've gotten to see how much better a guy, a better future boyfriend, a better child of God I can be. You've been a good influence, helping me lose weight and motivating me to get a job, and plan farther into my future, to chase dreams I want, to help get my life back in order.

And I want to return the favor. I want to make your life that much better, because for this summer you've made mine that much wonderful too. I'm sorry how summer ended on this, but if you could find it in yourself to forgive me, I'd gladly do all I can to make it up to you all the rest of the year long.

There. I've said my piece. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please know that no matter what happens, I'll remember you with fondness, gratitude, humilty and joy.

Thanks for everything, Nelli. Be safe.

-Raph