Seven days ago, I lost my phone. When a friend tried to call my number, a voice of an old female person answered on the other line. She said hello, hung up, then turned my phone off.
Six days ago–some piece of news.
Five days ago, the news was no longer news. It didn’t help that it happened the day before. A friend tried to comfort me by telling me that history changes. I told her history does not change. If it were, I would’ve done something to change it.
Three days ago, I went home for the first time in so many days. I left my wallet at the school paper office but realized it only when I was already on the jeep. I was too tired, too spent, to go back to get it, so I turned up the volume on my iPod and decided not to pay the fare.
I sat at the foot of the stairs to the train station for an hour. I rummaged through my backpack, pretending I was looking for my lost wallet. After maybe half an hour, a security guard asked me what was wrong, and I lied through my teeth and told him that I lost my wallet and phone (which was technically a white lie). I said I couldn’t get home.
He gave me a fifty peso bill. He also told me to study hard and take care of myself.
I felt like shit.
When I got home, I told my mother what happened for the past few days. I cannot recall what happened but I ended up sobbing and shouting at her. She also shouted at me. I escaped into my room. Five minutes later, she knocked on the door and told me dinner was ready. I pretended I fell asleep.
Two days ago, I came down with a fever which lasted for about a day. My head was splitting in two. I couldn’t move from the bed, even though I was strangely sensitive to the buzz of the airconditioner, the whirr of the electric fan in the afternoon heat. I drank two gallons of milk and ate expired canned fruit. I did not go to any of my classes.
Yesterday, my fever went to about 40 degrees in the afternoon. By early evening, I was okay. I then tried to watch some happy movie with a triumphant ending on my laptop, but my eyes felt like puffy slits. I could not finish it. I went to bed early.
Today, I returned to school. By the way, my mother bought me a new phone. The first thing I did was text M. “Hi, this is my new number. V.” His was the only phone number I know from memory.
At the train station, I wanted to return the money the security guard gave me four days ago, but he said I didn’t have to. I smoked a cigarette with him before I took the jeep to the campus. I nearly died from the nicotine rush. It was a nice feeling.