Category: Prose
Theme: Time
Synopsis: They say that wishing had something to do with time. She believed that time is a lethal weapon, so she used it, not knowing the consequences of her actions.
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Time meant everything for everyone. It gave us some reassurance and also pressure. Reassurance that we had all our time to do what we wanted as long as we were breathing, and pressure from those things that we wanted. How ironic, right?
How come there was a sense of relief and anxiety at the same time? Couldn't we just feel as if everything surrounding us with time would not change?
Every morning at eight o'clock, my mother would call all of us and say, "Breakfast is ready!" My father, who was already sweeping the leaves that had fallen from the branches of the trees, would walk inside not forgetting to rub his feet on our doormat. My sister would wake up, greeting our puppies a good morning.
The feeling of sluggishness came over me. I didn't want to get up, I didn't want to leave my bed...I didn't want to wake up.
We had been doing this every day and nothing changed. I was sick of it. Every time I looked at their eyes I feel like my vision started spinning like I was in an amusement park’s one festive ride. My stomach churns and my legs would feel weak like paper. I would instantly cover my mouth, trying to prevent that feverish feeling. I wanted to close my eyes forever and never see them.
"Good morning. Now move faster, you'll be late for school," my mother said as she was placing a plate with fried chicken and rice. It was my favorite food but somehow I was also starting to get enough of it. Over and over again it was that breakfast.
Later at lunch, it would be sinigang and I was so sure of it. In my morning class, our teacher would ask about a question we wouldn't be able to answer, or at least my classmates wouldn't be able to answer because I knew the right one. After that our History teacher would just straight-up collapse because of his hangover.
The traffic light would malfunction and it would never turn green so a traffic enforcer would come and manage it. My dad would say, "Really, this generation is a bit disappointing. How sad is that, right?" And I would reply, "It's...the traffic light who has a problem. Not our generation, dad." Every time...
I could already smell that nauseating scent even from outside our classroom. Our first teacher was very proud that someone finally answered her unwanted question after all the classes she asked that to, that was why she didn't give us any discussion. All of the things that came out of her mouth were praises that I heard again and again. I was already jaded by those compliments that she gave.
Normally a child who showed such excellence would want to be praised, but not me, I feel seasick whenever she said her compliments as if the things they said were a sea waiting to devour me. I didn't know how to swim, thus the anxiety every time they open their mouths rushed over me like a wave ready to slap me on the shore and take me back again to drown me repeatedly.
I wanted them to stop saying the same things, I wished and prayed to all the Gods existing in this world that they would say something different than before. Even an insult from that teacher would make me happier than ever.
"Sir!" There he goes, passed out, and all of us worried whether he was still breathing or not. "Call our school nurse!" our bright and smart class president ordered, but I stood up, walking towards our teacher in front. I could feel their gazes fall upon me as if what I was doing was some kind of show that could either entertain or annoy the hell out of them.
"He'll wake up in a bit," I said. This was new. It was true that he would wake up after a while, holding his head saying, "Ugh, hangover." We looked at our teacher while he stared at me who was sitting right in front of him. "What a nice day isn't it, sir?"
My heart beat faster as if horses were running, racing to reach the final end. I clutched my fists until I could feel the blood running out of them, even so, they didn't care. Even if the blood dripped like water on the floor they continued talking to each other. Right, when I stood up they just looked, our president who somehow hated my presence never said anything.
Now please...please say something else. Don't say those words you normally say. Don't say the words 'get back to your seats.' But all those hoping was for naught. He stood up straight, looked at me in the eyes, and said the words I didn't want to hear. "Get back to your seats."
I could feel my hand tremble. I thought that the deep wound on my hand was the cause of it, but no. The feeling of anxiety mixed with fear and nausea took over me. My whole body trembled and I couldn't control the way I walked to sit back on my seat and stayed silent for the rest of the day.
I went back home, silent. That familiar sickening smell of sinigang came up to my nose teasing me, telling me that whatever I do would not work. Never. It annoyed me to the point that I started to hate even that poor innocent food. "Welcome back." My mother's face greeted me with a smile that I couldn't take to looking at any longer. My mind might’ve surrendered but not my whole damned body.
The surroundings started to silent down and only the wind outside could be heard through my bedroom's window. I stared at those shadows that covered some of the streetlights illuminating through that frosted glass. As if my hand had its own life, it moved upwards and reached for that damned alarm clock. I couldn’t fathom why I did this stupid move. If only I was not that childish to even wish. If only I didn’t give that stupid wish to that being, I wouldn’t be here.
Tick...
God, I hate that sound. That ear-shattering sound I could hear even if it was only faint. No normal person would hear a clock ticking as if it was right beside your ears. Was it really wrong? Was it a mistake to wish for something I really wanted? When the whole world turned their back on me, did they think about how I would feel? So why did that little wish make my life feel like fire from the pits of hell?
Tick...
Tick...
Tick...
It stopped. It finally stopped when I removed its battery from the back. "Ha..." The unknown feeling seeped through me slowly and surely made me feel happy. These disgusting emotions I was feeling were welcomed by my whole heart, by all of my being that I found it scary, yet I didn’t do anything.
Because of that overwhelming happiness, as I liked to call it, I couldn't leave my bed when dinner time came. No, I didn't want to. I wanted to preserve this unknown over-happiness that I was feeling. Unbeknownst to myself that I would soon fall into a deep sleep.
Tick...
Tick...
Tick...
Tick...
"Breakfast is ready!"
Tick...
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Published by: Julianne Andrei F. Batiao
Time published: 12:42 pm
Date published: January 10, 2022
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