The Big Two-Oh

 N.B. This is my last exercise piece for Creative Writing 141 - Creative Nonfiction (Autobiographical Writing).  The tall order is "Shifting Forms."  IT WAS HARD, considering there's a word limit.  So if you don't understand this, don't worry, you're not supposed to.

The Big Two-Oh

I wrote it on the survey questionnaire, hand stiffly holding the pen, ink making its way in painful strokes along the surface of pristine white paper; and then, I cringed.  There is not a feeling of remorse with knowing, but with writing where things become permanent than they actually are, it becomes frustrating.  And as I write the big two numbers that define my life, I gaze at the truth that has been with me for several days now but have refused to accept its reality:  I’m 20.  I have crossed the threshold, straight into the great beyond.

It’s been two decades since I first stepped out of my mother’s womb.  It may not be a big deal to some but hearing it—seeing it printed on paper for the first time—makes it more than just a matter of figures.  It is a passage, a gateway into another world.  A “point of no return,” or “crossing the rubicon” according to Julius Caesar.

Nothing could equal the feeling one gets when truth is set on paper.  This is what makes newspapers credible, contracts binding and statements truthful.  What has been written cannot be undone, and what has been written shall ring true from here on end.

*

<blitz_krieg47>       I wonder what comes after?  You know, after all this fuss.

<fuzzy_logic29>       One could only hazard a guess.

<blitz_krieg47>       I know, right?

<blitz_krieg47>       People may say it’s nothing, it’s easy, it’s no different.  But you won’t really know it ‘til you’re there.

<fuzzy_logic29>       Right.  The best way to understand something is to experience it, or so the cliché goes.

<blitz_krieg47>       Sometimes I wish I’m not this sentimental.

<blitz_krieg47>       It just spurs a lot of unnecessary emotions that I tend to harbor.

<fuzzy_logic29>       Don’t be so hard on yourself.

<fuzzy_logic29>       Remember what your philosophy used to be?

<fuzzy_logic29>       Be spontaneous.

<blitz_krieg47>       Be spontaneous.  Haha.

<blitz_krieg47>       Thanks for reminding me.

 *

People say drinking too much coffee will make you nervous.  I say being a full-fledged adult makes me doubly—sometimes triply—nervous.  Not because of the things that I’ll soon encounter, but because I’m suddenly jolted into the shoes of my parents.  Having a younger sister doesn’t make things a teeny bit easier.  Now I understand… I would often catch myself saying.

*

To my dear little sister,

I was very nervous when I took you to your UPCAT exam the other week.  I know I should’ve been a bit more calm and supportive, giving you advice and encouraging you to do your best, but the brotherly instincts got the best of me.  I know I sounded like Dad when I gave you advice after advice, and they may have threatened you; but I’m glad that you’re calm and composed and optimistic about all this.

You are the youngest in the family, and as I begin to exit a life I’ve led for the past two decades, I could only think of you—you who’s the last in the family to go through this stage.  I have my fears, but I have my hopes as well.  I could only wish the best for you, my lil sis.

I know I have not been the best brother in the world, but I hope I could make up for all my shortcomings.  You have not been the best little sister either, but I guess I can’t blame you for that.  I’m just glad we’re as close as over right now.  I assure you, though you may hardly notice it, things’ll only get better from now on.

I have the utmost trust in you!

Forever your Kuya,
JM

*

My sister and I disagree on a lot of things, but one thing we always agree about:  music.  I think we inherited our pop sensibilities from our mother, who’s very liberal when it comes to tastes and preferences.

She may have her own preference for other things, but most of the time our taste in music jives.  I remember one summer when we would religiously tune into MTV waiting for Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” to be played.  We were such teeny-boppers then.

But we’re in different places now.  She’s barely even starting college, and I’m well on my way out of it.  We didn’t even meet halfway.  There are far more things we like differently now, and, sad to say, music would become one of it.

*

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us
It's time to make our move, I'm shakin' off the rust
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
Steady hands, just take the wheel
And every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal for the life I lead

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be, oh
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're 'here' not 'there'
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see?


- One Republic, “Stop and Stare”