Catharsis

My dear friend told me once, “I just want to be better than my last work. It doesn’t need to be perfect, just that I grow with every work I put out.” At the first instance she said this, I quickly said that I think it’s just an attempt for you to constantly validate yourself. Paano kung wala nang better work than this one? Susuko ka na ba?

It took me almost a month to understand what she meant.

I was asked by my mother to sort out a lot of my stuff from grade school to college that were stacked in our house in Pampanga. Sorting them out, I found a lot of things, like my grade 6 drawing book full of stick figures (because I suck at arts), some failed quizzes in Calculus (hehe classic), and some writings/poetry slipped between pages of readings and notebooks. I took them out and put them into one stack. There were about 20 papers full of ideas, and they’re all very poignant. Shet, sadboi talaga ako. It brings me joy to see these again. I mean, they’re not eureka works, it’s just that within the academic and serious setting I’m having (or at least I think I’m having), I actually got to stop for a bit to express myself. This made me realize that even in the most mundane moments of life, there is a silver lining. I leaf through readings and see a poem about a certain concept in the reading and make it into a poetry. I see a torn out page from my math notebook and find poetry dedicated to derivatives (don’t ask me, it’s wack). It’s funny because I forget about these moments, but as soon as the words locked my eyes, the memories and the moments poured out. It was refreshing.

After I finished sorting them out, I took a quick scan and realized that they are all unfinished works. Some are cut mid-sentence, others lacking a stanza or two. It’s always been like that for me. Even if I remember writing them, I remember not finishing them also, which reflects on the way I write also. My Google Drive has tons of writing prompts, but I never continue anything. Admittedly, it is difficult to continue if that sliver of inspiration at that brief moment took off for good. No matter how much you press and bang your head against the wall, it won’t come back if it decided not to.

Which brings me to my friend’s point. These writings depict the various points in my life. But no matter what I do, I cannot continue them further, because the moment has passed. But then again, these works made me grow as a person, and so I have to remember them fondly. So what did I do?

Impulsively, I stood up, grabbed the stack of papers, and went to our backyard. I got a little wooden stool, and sat in front of a pile of ashes of leaves (picture). I sat down and read all of my past works carefully, in them remembering also the memories I had. These made me grow as a person. They weren’t the best of works, they weren’t perfect. Thank you. But I think it’s better if I just read them for the last time.

So I stood up, grabbed a matchstick, and started lighting all of these works, one by one (Sorry if it’s unsustainable, but all of these works were written behind numerous scribblings, crumpled papers, and torn out readings). I think my point of doing this is not just to become poetic (“Wow sinunog niya past unfinished works niya cool naman non shet”). It’s more than that. Burning them, for me, ingrains it better. I do not want actual words to reflect, because words can be manipulated and arranged to sound better, but the feeling of using those words in those moments are important. It doesn’t have to be perfect. If I didn’t burn them, I might run the risk of changing the story and manipulating that moment to sound more poetic. I want it to burn in my head. Those moments. Because those moments, and the feeling of those words, are those that count and last forever.

Therefore, I say rest in peace to these works. I won’t wish for you to last forever, because you already do.

03/27/20

12:30AM