To all of our days

Photo by Franz Martin Dizon/THE FLAME

AS THE day starts, my mind impersonates an empty hall. The deafening silence haunts the liminal space. 

The passion that was once ablaze within my body dwindles. Truth be told, fatigue has scalded my body as if I was burned down to a cinder.

Today is a bit different; after weeks of loaded internship duties, early mornings and late nights, there is something to look forward to—a gathering.

There was a time when my friends and I filled the rooms of our building, gossip and laughter occupied the corridors. A long time has not passed but nostalgia has now replaced the halls that were once a place of mischief.

My friends start to arrive at our meeting place one by one, dark circles are visible under our eyes and yet the eyes glimmer the moment we all fill the chairs and start chatting among ourselves.

I listen to them laugh and gossip about anything while they lean on each other. The heaviness upon my shoulders vanishes into thin air, with nothing but the gleeful noises surrounding me. They make the same high-pitched noises they made during the earlier years of college, but none of us think of it as a bothering concern.

In the middle of warm smiles and faces, I realize that companionship is indeed the longest confession of love. The distance between us may grow, but we have long known the steps that lead us back to each other’s arms—the steps that lead us back home. F – Ysabel Sacramento

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