My room's in so much clutter. I've been trying to clean up my abode. Next thing I knew, I was back to reminiscing. Recalling memories. I don't have any idea of how mushy can I get. Yes, I'm a bit of corny and mushy and soppy and all that to say the least.
I was taken by a piece of drawing. It was but an oddly piece of draft done by the very person that could make me burrow into the uncanny sense of losing. Ah, the drawing! It's not the best that I've seen. It isn't very much eye- catching. It may, of some sort, worthy of a petty praise. But it struck me! A whole lot.
He was one of the smartest guys I know. The one with that seemingly sheepish smile that could mask what he's capable of. The only person I know who could munch on "baringon" for a whole day. The one who prefers to play on a stack of "kawayan" and never worries about being tripped down. Those chinky slits that hides mystery. Not until he left.
I was, anyway, grateful for having to spend a part of my lifetime with him. Who never fails to assure you to study always. Who introduced me to the world of four- wheel's and yoyo's. Who would always be "pikon" whenever he loses in a game. Who would bet his neck that I could be able to decipher the language of numbers (he might be furious, I still can't). Who, for some reasons, get me furious for beating me out a number of times. I could never beat him and never would I dare to bet him. Not until he bid goodbye.
It wasn't much of a budge that he's suffering from leukemia. I was always glad to find out that I could pluck his hair in one strike without him being hurt. I would always have to challenge him in copy- whats- in- the- board race and would lose. I would always have to take notice of how odd he grips a pen. I would take time to brag about knowing new yoyo tricks and piss him off when in fact I don't just in the satisfaction that I get him furious. Not until he parted.
It was a loss. He was a loss.
If things would go my own way. If he was still bound here on Earth, he would create changes. I bet my head on, He would be GREAT. And, the next thing that's not far from surprise, he would beat the ass off me.
I would have not flunked my math subjects. He will be there to teach me and answer anything that I couldn't. I would have, at least, develop a minuscule of an artistic bone in my anatomy. He will be there to rant about my masterpieces. I would still have a lunch partner and would be choking on a mouthful of "baringon". I would have someone to tag as one of my closest, truest friends. But then again, I can't.
An endless apology for not being there through your hardest and trying times. Sorry, for not being able to ease your pain and sufferings. I regret the things I've done that had hurt you. I know you hear me. I know you feel me. Me and the people that appreciates and loves you.
Not as time will change would I forget a brother that had taught me the sensibilities more than a four- wheel and yoyo boy could have. The one that introduced me to a world of warriors and war itself. He is a warrior. A warrior that never backed out nor surrendered. A warrior that has proven his worth and value.
Warrior. Invincible.Victorious.
TYRON
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