It Feels So Scary to Be Old
“Papasok ka ba?”
“Oo, pero magpapa-late ako.”
The night before our classmates’ cliniquing for journalism, this was the conversation with my friend. With half the class involved in journalism or other clubs like SSLG and Robotics, it’s clear that some teachers won’t be teaching because so few students will be in their classes.
Teachers usually let us do whatever we wanted as long as we stayed out of the hallways during class periods — sleep, finish a project for another subject, ask each other if we finished revising the research we already had since grade 9, or simply do nothing.
That’s how we’d get to the canteen first, avoiding the crowds and grabbing our own bananaque. Back in the classroom, it would be filled with endless “pakagat” requests.
After classes, we’d head to the nearby Japan Surplus to browse through second-hand clothes. Sharing an umbrella on the way, we might stop by Jollibee for a bite if we had a little extra money, or just cool off in SaveMore.
Now, watching friends have fun at a music festival through my phone screen, questioning if they made the right choice of strand, or struggling with General Mathematics makes me miss those times; The days when we’d simultaneously say, “Gusto ko nang umuwi,” even before the program started, or when we’d add “Pre” to the end of every sentence while telling stories, even if only partially told, hinting at something personal happening in our lives.
Sharing even the tiniest detail somehow made everything feel lighter.
On the first day of classes, I unexpectedly connected with someone new. Socializing wasn’t as difficult as I had imagined, but there was a sense of unfamiliarity. We went to the canteen together, and it felt familiar — yet it hit me that I couldn’t share my packed lunch with those who also had packed lunch.
These are the people I will get to know, but it doesn’t mean our connection will have the same depth as with those I once spent my days with, doing nothing and everything.
The ones with whom I shared my mother’s dish, the ones I’d make eye contact with and know we were each other’s partners for any activity.
“Whole day ako ngayon. May P.E kami.”
“Wala kaming pasok every Tuesday.”
“Sa Thursday naman ako walang pasok.”
“May Saturday classes ako kaya wala akong pasok sa Friday.”
In the same building, on the same grounds, in the same school, and even in the same strand, finding time to be together after school seems impossible. It doesn’t feel like drifting apart, but is it?
Are we still friends? I think so. The weight of new responsibilities feels so heavy on our shoulders.
Sometimes, it’s hard not to wonder if the moments we had were fully savored, or if we were too busy rushing ahead, forgetting that those seemingly ordinary days might someday be the ones we long to return to.
It feels so scary to be old.
