The Philopino | Jake Crisologo
Last week, I realized just how single I am during my Tour 197 class. The last report has been reported, the last assignments assigned and the last deadline was chosen. February 14th, Tuesday. What I thought was “Ok, sa Tuesday. Gawin ko Tuesday morning yung paper. HAHA.” Then somebody said that we should pass on the 16th instead. Why? You guessed it. Valentine’s Day daw kasi sa 14.
At first I was like, “Ay oo nga!“. Then the inevitable thought came a millisecond after- “How could I have forgotten?” A micro-gasp escaped from my lips. “Valentine’s Day and you don’t even know it. Are you retarded or simply alone?”
Let me be the first to say that I did not judge myself too much after this oversight. I mean, it’s not as if I’mrequiredto know every unofficial holiday there is, especially one as sentimentally, not to mention, as commercially dull as Valentine’s Day. But let’s not ignore the proverbial white elephant in the room. Let us name this elephant Singledom, or Singleness. Or wait, here’s the name: Singularity! Meaning the beginning of the universe- the origin of being alone; when there was literally nothing else in existence. It can also be a fancy name for a state of not being in a relationship. Or, as I’ve said, an elephant.
Well, I’ve been living with Singularity for a long time now. Singularity is a nice elephant, gives you a lot of space. Singularity never gets jealous, or makes you choose between her or beer or vodka, or becomes irrationally emotional or demanding. Singularity is awesome actually. You get to do whatever you want, not being tied to some other human being who’d just mess up your life anyway. Some other human being that makes you so happy. Some other human being that makes you giddily happy with every text message, that even “Kumain kna? ^_^” seems so cosmically sincere and caring and cute and wonderful that you reply “Hindi pa. Hehe. Kaw? :p” whilst you secretly cross your fingers thinking “Sana siya na! Sana siya na…” All that shameless kababawan because you’re in love with somebody. This somebody makes you so happy it sometimes hurts and then they’re gone and it always hurts.
I’ve thought about love many times, felt it many times, felt it being given, felt it being denied, felt it being reciprocated and felt it make me stupid. “What is love?” asks a slumbook, and I’d answer “What the world needs more of.”, quoting some song so whitewashed in my memory it’s almost forgotten.
Then I thought about why we need more love in the world in the first place. For one, it might stop the wars. For another, it might just make everybody happier, simple as a nursery rhyme. In a world marinated to its core with love, we’d all be on a high, stoned or drunk with its juices that what makes people beautiful all of sudden becomes so obvious you just can’t help fall in love each other.
But thinking about it more, the world already has plenty of love on its plate. It’s just that it’s not equally divided among the human race. Some people and some things are loved more than others, some people love themselves too much and some people just not enough to happy.
Captain Obvious says that there are a lot of lonely people in the world because they feel unloved. So many who can’t find each other, who hate people who did, who cry and decry Valentine’s Day as vulgar and capitalist. Singularity, who gave so much freedom before, all of a sudden becomes too clingy. Singularity of all sudden becomes a demon of indifference, an invisible phantasm that doesn’t tell you how wonderful you are or cheers you on to be more awesome. Singularity becomes fatter and heavier, weighing you down as you sit in front of a computer while others she’s victimized are doing the same thing. You’re not alone in your loneliness. The fucking irony of it.
Because of all this loneliness scathingly multiplying in the world, does love really screw us up? Yes, and no. Yes because of its sheer depravity that makes you want so much more of it. Yes because it hurts and it makes you hate Nicholas Sparks for his insipid novels about a promise that can’t be replicated in your life. Yes because it makes you do things for it, sometimes crazy things, enslaving you on a leash of pheromones and seratonin that without it, the world just becomes a hole. Yes because it makes you think that life becomes less of a mystery when you have it. Yes because it makes you too happy to know that you’re actually falling apart inside, the scaffolding of your being slowly being invaded by the parasitic roots of your beloved’s idiosyncrasies that once they’re gone, you feel your world being shaken.
But as true as these yes’s are, no, love doesn’t just screw us up. No because you know that you’d rather feel happy, in all its deprivation rather than be richly miserable. No because it can make you do great things because of it. No because you get to know yourself more, and what really matters when pretty much all you own is gone. No because, as much as love can break you, it can fix you too, or is that too idealistic? No because, while its true that you will be tied to another human being, you realize that you will grow to love the limits of your world, when, at the event that you’ve walked too far, you know that there is somewhere to walk back to- just follow your leash home.
No, because love can make you feel as alive as you’ll ever be in this lifetime.
See more of Jake Crisologo’s thoughts in The Philopino