Another Shade of Light

Jonalyn woke up from her deep slumber. Her hair was wet with raindrops from their dilapidated roof. She cautiously looked around the area, her siblings were still asleep, succumbed by the coldness of the weather yet only their bodies in fetal position giving them warmth.


She rose with a slow pace not to disturb the peace surrounding their wooden home and carefully went to the kitchen area where she blindly searched for something edible to eat. Nothing.


She placed her modified black garbage bag ala raincoat and placed it on her thin and frail body. She decided to buy pan de sal at a nearby bakery.


The air was chilly and the drops were heavy but she shrugged the two aside thinking that her siblings would be darn hungry by the time they wake up, after all, they can't afford dinner anymore. Jonalyn braved the murky water and the floating specimens around their neighborhood. It was really a common thing in sight and did not bother her anymore.


A few minutes later she arrived at her destination, the neighborhood's sole bakery whose choices include a variety of bread with different colors and forms but of same tastes, a peso for each. She bent and looked hungrily into the glass case with eyes of starvation and greed. She wanted to buy all of them! Each and everyone of those pieces of bread! She would buy them and give them all to her siblings and maybe, if there would be left, she can get one or two pieces to gnaw on to last her for the rest of the day. Only if her money would suffice.


Alas, she snapped out of her daydream and slowly counted her money, their family's money. Twenty pesos. Enough to buy 20 pieces of bread for breakfast but not enough for the whole day. She looked at the pieces of wet coins like a mother to a child, she held it tightly and asked the baker for 15 pieces of pan de sal and 5 pieces of Spanish breads for variety. She heaved a sigh of relief. At least they'll be full for the morning. For lunch would be a problem not for the next six hours or so.


The baker gladly gave her the red transparent plastic where the warm breads were encased and moisting from inside. Jonalyn looked at the breads with delight but she also looked at the coins where she has no choice but to hand them over to the baker. She took the plastic and slid it under her modified raincoat and went on her way home. She clutched the plastic with her life. She was a little anxious for it might slip under her hands.


Once again she braved the murky water and the floating clutter around their neighborhood. The rain has not stopped but dwindled a little. She hurriedly walked a bit faster hoping that she could prepare them their breakfast before they all wake up. The plopping of her torn slippers across the neighborhood was increasing and she decided to make a final dash. She was still clutching the plastic which houses their only means of survival for the day.


Finally, she was able to return to their house safe and sound albeit wet. She carefully took off her raincoat and tiptoed her way across her siblings and turned on the oil lamp placed at the middle of their table. She got four saucers and placed them symmetrically across the table. She always liked it neat and in place. She also placed the plastic of bread not too close to the lamp but enough for it to be slightly warmed.


One by one she tapped her siblings' shoulders and whispered to their ears that it was time to wake up and nearly time for school. The children yawned and rubbed their eyes with their little hands and looked around as if searching for something. They all started to get up slowly from their blackened and torn mattresses and headed to the dining area. Jonalyn finally opened the plastic of bread, the precious pieces source of life, and carefully placed five pieces to four of her siblings, four pan de sals and a piece of Spanish bread. The youngest looked at her with worry. She looked back at her sister and smiled. She smiled in an "I will be fine" way. But still the youngest sister lifted her saucer and slowly handed it to her sister while chewing a minute piece. Jonalyn smiled again and she took the saucer from her sister and returned it back in front of her sister. She looked again at her sister who was still looking a little worried for she knew they weren't able to eat dinner but now is breakfast time, yet her sister refuses to eat. Jonalyn looked away across the dining table and outside their dilapidated wooden house. She walked away from them, walked towards the kitchen, got a kettle, and turned on the faucet.   She will prepare for school too just like her siblings who are all still in their primary education.


She is Jonalyn, 12 years of age, barely out of elementary, head of the family, and a garbage collector together with her siblings.

Crowns and Trophies

A little drama can be helpful.


















Too much is just nuisance.
















Capisce?

Go-To-Guys

He is always there for you.


He always misses you dearly.


He texts you more often than you text him.


He wants to hug and kiss you all the time.


He makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over.


He makes you feel special.


He makes you feel that you are his world.


He is nearly perfect.


Except that - you can't fall in love with him and vice-versa.


Such is the fate of a go-to-guy. Even if he is the most charming, amiable, witty, most friendly, and good-looking guy that you have met.


He will always be a comfort person, convenient to put it in layman's perspective.


We all have one, or rather, had been one.


There is just something dynamic about the set-up, at the other end you feel you're just using him but at the same time you know he enjoys your company. Compensated.


Sometimes people can't help it, we just want someone, nothing long-term, not too much attachment, nor too much drama.


Go-to-guys are different from flings because flings, as most of us know, do not last more than a month, two weeks the most.


A go-to-guy is someone who you just want to hang-around, sleep with, wake up with an embrace, dress up for work, and go on with your life - simple.


But of course sooner or later it won't work any more. Temporary problem begets temporary solution.


And finally when everything crumbles you tell him, gtg.


Or he tells you that first - simple.

Finale

For our stories are the only ones that we have at the end of the day...

The Need to be Wanted

Don't we all have this longing? That somehow after the club lights fade, the check-in time ran out, the lights in the movie house ended, and the facility personnel closes the comfort room there would be someone waiting for us, wanting to be there, simply just be there, for a conversation.


That after all the rigorous gym activities, a stressful day at work, and a more stressful commuting time, there would be someone for us, smiling affectionately, wanting to hold our tired hands.


For years people like us have wondered and wandered what it truly means to be accepted not by the heterosexual community but of the homosexual one.


Aren't you the least bit curious what makes us why we just cannot seem to be fulfilled?


But what is even more of interest is just how much a person can truly endure or partake in order to be accepted.


Doesn't fulfillment and acceptance root from oneself primarily?


Dating back my yesteryears of me being obese, man, that was how I realized how the world can get so harsh and frankly I felt very um, unloved. But that is now in the past and I may not forget them nor is it easy to learn from them but moving on is what I can only do. And that is what I did. I started to lose weight, exercise, eat the right type of foods, did everything to be in tip-top shape but here is the thing, I still felt dissatisfied, like there was still something lacking, and that was when I had a huge realization.


I realized how lonely we can get and how life can be an oxymoron.


I realized how we as gay people can get so too critical, disoriented and confused, overlapping principles of contradiction.


I realized how sadness can overwhelm one and in turn, one seeks to be happy...in a different, erotic type of way.


That is the reason for Grindr, that notorious application. I was not merely using it as a tool for my worldly obsessions, rather, I was seeking answers by mere observation. I was trying to deduce assumptions. I wanted to know more about these men who are logged-in: topless, headless, nearly nude, smiling, smirking, aloof, buff, skinny, bears, dads, of different faces in different places all for the single objective. And I was able to produce a proposition, a hypothetical one.


Sex because it provides temporary intimacy, a thirst, a gripping hunger, a fleeting sentience.


But this is just my mere observation and perhaps also my two cents on those seeking for something long-lasting in that application that everyone is just raving about only a third distance from Facebook and Twitter.


You won't.


For that was never meant to be an avenue for relationships, well, maybe for text relationships but really, nothing deeper than that.


Well then that answered my question. Hence my Grindr is still there yet is still inactive just from the start.


"Well baby, you know what they say, the prettier you are, the more issues you have." As I frankly told my friend over the phone.

Verdict

Because honesty, trust, and loyalty will always be arbitrary.

Puppetry

"You have condoms?" He asked our friend who was having a spiked pineapple drink.


He disappeared for a while and appeared a few seconds after, holding the drink on his right and a small packet on the left. He gave the small packet to the guy and went to the kitchen, while dancing.


He tore it with craving eyes while I was still pinned down under his body. He set it aside and came near my face.


"Kiss me." He ordered again.


I looked away on his face. "I can't. I just can't." I regrettably told him.


"Sorry, I really am. But you know I had a crush on you ever since we met." He told me while he cupped my face and directed it towards his face. He looked at me with shame.


Boys and their words, their flattering words.


I looked into his eyes and felt guilty. I gave him a smack.


But he couldn't take the smack as an answer.


He licked my upper lip, ensuring that he gets all the area covered with his tongue. He continued to the lower lip doing the same thing.


I slowly started to open my mouth and tried to lift my body a little while I was slowly starting to open my mouth to give him a kiss but he pinned me down and his tongue went inside my half-opened mouth.


My body arched a little. I could feel electricity running all over. And everyone knows electricity causes heat.


He literally placed his body on top of me and got the torn packet near the headboard of the bed.


"What?" I was startled. "I thought this was not part of the plan? I told you I'm not up for it."


He went deaf. He started placing the condom. I was under his body. I was in a bit of panic.


This guy, he doesn't give up. I thought to myself.


He started to position me, lifting my legs, but I refuse. I refuse the idea.


"Please." He looked at me again.


"I will tell your boyfriend." I threatened him.


"We are open."


I knew that. Damn. Useless rebuttal.


He started to lift again my legs, slowly, surely.


I closed my eyes as he did his.


"Moan for me." He commanded one last time.


And so I did while a club song was playing in the background.


That bad girl power I got, I'll abuse it tonight
'Cause tonight got poison on my mind
That power I got, you'll be mine when I strive, feel alive
Got poison on my mind.










Part 2