Waiting and Ticking
At the moment: Unexplainable sadness
When I was in grade school, a bomb threat surfaced one lazy afternnon (during Filipino class) and since bomb threats during that time weren't that common, the administration took the safe side and made us all go home. The air was thick with caution and paranoia as students marched like entranced zombies out of the building. Everybody was given a chance to call their sundo to come pick them up since we were practically little kids back then.
As routine, I waited in the small guard house for the tricycle service to pick me up. I waited and watched my scared schoolmates leave the school with their equally terrified parents.
I waited.
People who passed by me looked at me with utmost concern on their faces. They bombard me with questions of concern but would leave in a minute or two even without a reply from me. Self-preservation.
I waited until the school was practically deserted. The air was dead and taunting as that little voice in my head whispered.. "You're going to die... everyone's gone and you're the only one who'd blow up" Even the school guard who was supposed to wait until everyone has left the school pressured me with incessant inquiries about the time my sundo will arrive. He was probably very anxious about his own life too. I, on the other hand, was quiet yet delirious with fury. I hated the driver for taking so long. I hated him so much I wished him dead or better yet, I thought I'd kill him myself when he arrives. It's self-preservation talking. I was so persistent on saving my own life that I'd kill others just to save mine.
When the tricycle service finally came, I ran towards it without saying a word. I cried all the way home as I felt the panic and hopelessness rush out of my body like diarrhea. I cried my heart out but quickly wiped my eyes dry when I got home. I didn't say a word to the driver nor to my parents. I just went straight to my room and doodled drawings on my notebook. The next day, I completely forgot everything. Even the murderous intent I had on the poor tricycle driver. It's like that memory was pushed deep into my subconscious, turning the one-day old memory into a distant dream.
But little did I know that THAT particular event will completely dictate my attitude towards waiting. I didn't notice it but as I grew up, I became more and more impatient. I despised waiting and refused to wait for anything or anyone. Whenever I was asked to meet up with someone, I make sure to be late for at least 15-30 minutes. In my mind, I'd want to get there on time but I unconsciously end up delaying everything so I'd arrive later than the person I'm meeting up with. I'm really serious about this. As self-centered as it may sound, I like things to go at my own pace. I want everything to be ready exactly the time I want it to be ready. And in inevitable times wherein people make me wait, I go as far as seriously hating that person. However, the hatred lingers only until that person arrives. When that person arrives, all thoughts of anger and frustration leaves my system.
Pretty much like how my anger towards the tricycle driver dissipated after one night of sleep. It's nothing personal. I just don't like waiting. Maybe I'm not mad at the tricycle driver himself, maybe what I really despise is the thought that I'm waiting for someone to arrive.
Whenever I wait, I feel like a bomb is ticking and if the person I'm waiting for doesn't arrive on time, the bomb will explode sending my limbs to several parts of the Philippines. That's why I hate. Please understand even though it seems ridiculous.
When I was in grade school, a bomb threat surfaced one lazy afternnon (during Filipino class) and since bomb threats during that time weren't that common, the administration took the safe side and made us all go home. The air was thick with caution and paranoia as students marched like entranced zombies out of the building. Everybody was given a chance to call their sundo to come pick them up since we were practically little kids back then.
As routine, I waited in the small guard house for the tricycle service to pick me up. I waited and watched my scared schoolmates leave the school with their equally terrified parents.
I waited.
People who passed by me looked at me with utmost concern on their faces. They bombard me with questions of concern but would leave in a minute or two even without a reply from me. Self-preservation.
I waited until the school was practically deserted. The air was dead and taunting as that little voice in my head whispered.. "You're going to die... everyone's gone and you're the only one who'd blow up" Even the school guard who was supposed to wait until everyone has left the school pressured me with incessant inquiries about the time my sundo will arrive. He was probably very anxious about his own life too. I, on the other hand, was quiet yet delirious with fury. I hated the driver for taking so long. I hated him so much I wished him dead or better yet, I thought I'd kill him myself when he arrives. It's self-preservation talking. I was so persistent on saving my own life that I'd kill others just to save mine.
When the tricycle service finally came, I ran towards it without saying a word. I cried all the way home as I felt the panic and hopelessness rush out of my body like diarrhea. I cried my heart out but quickly wiped my eyes dry when I got home. I didn't say a word to the driver nor to my parents. I just went straight to my room and doodled drawings on my notebook. The next day, I completely forgot everything. Even the murderous intent I had on the poor tricycle driver. It's like that memory was pushed deep into my subconscious, turning the one-day old memory into a distant dream.
But little did I know that THAT particular event will completely dictate my attitude towards waiting. I didn't notice it but as I grew up, I became more and more impatient. I despised waiting and refused to wait for anything or anyone. Whenever I was asked to meet up with someone, I make sure to be late for at least 15-30 minutes. In my mind, I'd want to get there on time but I unconsciously end up delaying everything so I'd arrive later than the person I'm meeting up with. I'm really serious about this. As self-centered as it may sound, I like things to go at my own pace. I want everything to be ready exactly the time I want it to be ready. And in inevitable times wherein people make me wait, I go as far as seriously hating that person. However, the hatred lingers only until that person arrives. When that person arrives, all thoughts of anger and frustration leaves my system.
Pretty much like how my anger towards the tricycle driver dissipated after one night of sleep. It's nothing personal. I just don't like waiting. Maybe I'm not mad at the tricycle driver himself, maybe what I really despise is the thought that I'm waiting for someone to arrive.
Whenever I wait, I feel like a bomb is ticking and if the person I'm waiting for doesn't arrive on time, the bomb will explode sending my limbs to several parts of the Philippines. That's why I hate. Please understand even though it seems ridiculous.
ice cream sold by sorbetera at 9:47 PM
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