Time Calls Me Home

It's been a long long time since I've written and even now I don't have any intention of writing. I am practically staring at the keyboard without anything to say, to write eventhough at times I have a million things to say. There is not single soul here where I can just blurt out anything to, without feeling guilty, misjudged or misunderstood. I have been here in Manila for a couple of months, and though I could get used to the big city lifestyle, God knows I want to go home.

The way I've been raised and the way I have handled myself with people really helps alot with my initial adjustment here. And I am streetsmart enough to distinguish the crooks from the innocent bystanders. I was overwhelmed though, walking one day through the busy, colorful streets of Quiapo, to see an ocean of faces, each going their own way, not noticing each other, as if everyone's existence seem non-existent at all. To see a lot of faceless people cramped in one place is rather sad. In a city of 10-million strong, everyone is a stranger. Everyone is alone. And that is sad.

I get-by day-to-day in a monotonous routine of going to school, meeting the same people who I will leave behind in a few months time. I miss home a lot. I miss that small town I left behind. The place may not be as exciting, the women not as exquisite and sophisticated. At least the place hasn't lost its heart. Not everyone there is waiting to pounce on the weak. People there have faces. Faces recognizable through unintroduced acquaintances. They may be nameless, but definitely not faceless. So here I am. Waiting. Waiting for time to take me home...