the untold story of july 24.

It was one of those tiring days when all you want is a ride home and a welcoming seat. But because life is hard, you have to fight for what you want. And because you’re too tired to fight, you just surrender to the world’s unfair paradigm.

For the second time around, sumabit ako. Translation: I hanged. Second level of translation: I made sabit. Saan pa? Eh di sa jeep. I honestly don’t know what to make out of the experience. One side of me is telling me to be ashamed of it, since it’s the habit of those penniless guys who doesn’t want to pay the fare; since we associate this habit to laborers, carpenters, and the like; since we strip a person off his dignity when one does it. I have to admit, my self-esteem touched the ground a bit. But it was also that time that I felt proud. Not because I was proving machismo, but because I was able to hang on – firm and unmoving. Takot ko lang.

Mama was in her mocking tone when she found out yesterday what I did. I didn’t know how to defend myself aside from arguing that they wanted me to be home ASAP. If she only knew how my bag was cutting off my shoulders’ blood circulation and how I imagined my arm falling off because of my bag’s weight (no exaggerations), then she’ll be able to appreciate the effort.

Today, I once again rode a jeepney with its entrance blocked with three men. All of which were trying hard not to fall off eventually. I felt their starkness towards each other, on how they (unconsciously) tried elbowing the other men to win space. I saw the screaming veins in their hands creeping to their arms because of their heavy packs. I felt the invisible sigh of comfort for every passenger leaving their seats – awarding them their hard-earned comfort. I felt I was sharing their grip with every abrupt breaks. This time I can say, I was able to relate. Mahirap sumabit sa jeep. Accept this fact or dare to prove it yourself.

Photo Source: Sarah Geronimo, sabit sa jeep.