Posted by: minz | February 2, 2009

Dear Ghost (of the Past),

It was a split second between me leaving the table to check on a tennis game on cable tv, and your call. Ordinarily, I’d have kept my cellphone close as I tend to get insecure when it disappears from my line of vision. Ordinarily, as well, Santi doesn’t care to pick it up when it rings or sounds off a text message. Ordinarily, for the past five years, I’ve never kept your name in my phone-book because seeing your name anywhere gives me the chills.

But the other night was far from ordinary. My phone rang while I was away for a millisecond. Santi answered it after reading your name flashing on the screen. ” GP calling”, it screamed. I had finally put your name in my phone book last New Year’s day, when I decided to give friendship with you a shot. Last Friday, it got me in trouble.

When Santi went up to me shouting that you were on the other line, I thought he was joking. Why would he want me to speak with you? And why on earth would you insist on talking to me knowing that it was my husband who answered the phone? I will never know the answers to that because the two of you, and how you seem to put up with each other given our history, totally escape me. Ang plastic nyong mag-brod!

That’s not the point of this note, though. After I spoke to you and gave you the information you needed (Was that the real reason you called? Seriously? “Sinu bagong GP ng Arellano?”) , I put the phone down and that was when all hell broke loose. It didn’t help that Santi had a bit to drink that night. And I was tired. It was all to easy to pick a fight and have it end horribly. That’s what happened to us, because of your call. He wanted to know why you’re still calling me, why I had your name in my phone-book.  To which I replied, “E baket mo sinagot at binigay mo pa saken? E di sana you asked why he’s calling and told him to go to hell!”. I jumped out of the car because I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to be alone. 

There I was, running out of Tektite, knowing full well that Santi will not follow me this time. I chucked my heels and looked for a cab. I was walking down Exchange Road when it dawned on me how many times in the past I found myself in that situation and how excited I’d been knowing that nobody knew where the hell I was and that I could drive straight to your place. No excuses, no explanations needed. Just you, me and the night.

Once again, I found myself caught between the moon and Quezon City.And this is how it went.

The thing about letting go of something you never had is that it creeps to you ever so slowly that you don’t realize, until that very moment,  you’ve done it. I looked at my phone and your number. I got the feeling you were still somewhere in QC, drinking and making merry. For a second there, memories of me driving like a madwoman to get to where you are flashed by. That night would have been easier. I could have simply hailed a cab and given your address. I looked at my phone again and your name in my phone book. My heart wasn’t raging…anymore.

 Quietly I resigned myself to the fact that I was a fool to think we can even be friends because , really, there is nothing left here for me… to give you. How do I say it? I’ve…gone. Moved along. I don’t love you. Anymore. Kahit kunti. And I say that without the litlest trace of anger or regret.  That is why we can’t be anything but old, familiar names in phone-books. I’m happy with the friends I keep, I hope you learn to be, too. 

I’m putting it out here so I can have this day memorexed. The day I thought would never come but did, thankfully.

That night, while walking down Exchange Road, I looked at my phone and called… Santi. Told him, I couldn’t find a cab and that I wanted to go home. He is my home. The only home I’ve known.

You were a fantasyland I frequented everytime I desired to keep the flames of my youth alive. I liked it so much that I dreamed of staying there for good, but  wasn’t allowed to. You kept me at arm’s length so that you can be Peter Pan and stay a kid forever. Realizing that it was all for naught, I chose to grow up and I  haven’t lost hope that you would, too.  Check out and leave Neverneverland…it gets awfully lonely there even on Friday nights, doesn’t it?  It’s not too late. After all, look at me? Minahal pa kita ng sobra nung lagay na un.

 If you ever get to read this, I wish you’d find a home , somewhere warm and lasting, like the one I’ve found with Santi.

But wherever that is, I’m afraid it is not with me. I don’t visit where you live anymore. 

Goodbye, gp.


All my best,




  1. A M E N!!!!

  2. amen na tlga dapat mama. kung dati type ko pag kinukulet nya ko, ngaun ABALA NA CYA.

  3. I got goosebumps reading this.

  4. story of my life, sister. Told you, if you so much as smell a brod of mine from a few feet away, steer clear 🙂
    Sometimes, they can be…pricks.

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