Dating : Walking down Diliman’s memory lane

I managed to make it to my dream destination. What’s the worst that could happen?

At first, I thought that walking into this university would be pretty straightforward. That it would only be a matter of taking one step after another, carefully looking down the ground so as not to trip. I managed to make it to my dream destination. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I did not hesitate to enter the Academic Oval where the gentle breeze led me. It seemed surreal to be one with all walks of life, and I was even fortunate enough to stay when the others could merely pass by. That was what my freshman self thought. I was idealistic and sure-footed, sometimes even drifting among the clouds with happiness.

The oval is right in the heart of the best university in the country, a place brimming with hope and promise… until it is not. Surely, someone so naïve is bound to get lost in the thick of it all. And I did lose my footing eventually. I took a hard fall from my original course, which meant I would be leaving this place earlier than I had planned.

This was a failure I never took in stride. I would brush the dirt and concern off my shoulder, assuring bystanders that I am alright. Just a scratch. People stumble all the time — why whine about it? It was far easier to make a joke out of myself, because I was so damn laughable anyway. But deep inside, I felt something in me broke. There festered a bitter truth: I am not capable of everything I set my mind to. This is the fractured reality I have to live with from now on.

But how could I? I am treading even more carefully, scared of hurting myself again. Yet it is difficult to keep a straight face when I see other people effortlessly outpacing me — jogging, cycling, driving, driven. Friends invite me to exercise around the oval with them on Friday afternoons, and I appreciate the gesture. I am too ashamed to decline their offer outright, so I always promise, maybe next time. Sadly, I never find it in me to keep up with them.

This was a failure I never took in stride. I would brush the dirt and concern off my shoulder, assuring bystanders that I am alright. Just a scratch. People stumble all the time — why whine about it?

A lot of students would probably tell you about how UP Diliman transformed their lives. I agree with them wholeheartedly. The campus has slowly transformed me too, even in the subtlest ways. The gentle breeze teases my hair. The scrumptious smells waft into my nose. The bustling sounds of the city are music to my ears. The fallen leaves swirl at my feet. For a moment there, the world is at my fingertips. I see everything with my own eyes, but I cannot quite believe my dumb luck.

And yet not a lot of people would readily admit that this campus casts harsh shadows. The sun glares with hostility, its shafts of light impaling me through the trees. The humidity is suffocating. I am short of breath, plodding from one dry affair to another. My tongue feels like sandpaper scraping the roof of my parched mouth. I thirst for more. A drop of hope, an inkling of meaning. Anything at all.

At the end of the day, the sky still bleeds crimson. The Academic Oval is a rat race, and we are its savages. They often say UP is the microcosm of the Philippines. I daresay it is also the microcosm of the real world — behold it in all its existential glory.

The pain I try to hide is excruciating, and it eats me up inside every waking day. Nobody prepared me to witness my dreams catch fire and my plans go up in smoke, until all hope is extinguished. To what end? My story is but a single tragedy out of many. The world keeps spinning, and there are worse political problems. People expect me to move on, to walk past the ruins, to skirt around that gaping hole on the way to CAL and pretend nothing has changed.

Years later, I am still lost, even though I should have known this place like the back of my hand by now. One misstep after another. The best punchline during my darkest hours involves hurling myself in front of an unsuspecting car in the oval. Just hit me, hit me now and be done with it. Anything to stop myself from constantly walking in circles. The 15-kph speed limit is my only saving grace; it is too slow to deliver a fatal blow.

The Academic Oval is a rat race, and we are its savages. They often say UP is the microcosm of the Philippines. I daresay it is also the microcosm of the real world — behold it in all its existential glory.

I would definitely not miss the agony, anxiety, and uncertainty that comes with being a student here. Not the unforgiving sun nor the torrential flood after it. I refuse to spend more days sobbing pitifully in the Sunken Garden, all because I got off the beaten path and went through the fires of hell for it.

Yet I could not deny that there are still things that I would miss. For instance, riding my father’s car to and from my college whenever possible. Showing my mother around the university, who is listening intently as I recount my college tales. Greeting friends and acquaintances along the way, even when we have to go our separate directions.

Sitting on a bench in silence — it did not matter whether I was in front of AS or Vinzons, Alone/Together-style — only that someone special was beside me, sending frissons down my spine. Ordering pancit canton from the kiosk, walking to class, or sipping coffee in Vargas with my best friend, the various times during which we exchange heartwarming stories, quips, and ideas. Best of all, gazing at the oval from the CBA entrance alone, casually observing passers-by nearing the end of a miraculously good day.

They almost make me believe in miracles again. Almost.

Life in UP Diliman is difficult, but I learned to live for these fleeting moments of tranquility — overcast skies that signal impending rain yet shield us from the overbearing sun. I am grateful for the cool wind and the foliage of trees. They offer me solace for a short while. The rest is a blur.

If there were something I could impart to aspiring Iskos and Iskas, it would be this: UP Diliman, like the rest of the world, will never treat you kindly just because you are struggling. This microcosm will have its way of making you seem small and insignificant too, swept away like the dust that settles in its corridors the night before. The derelict buildings and their timeworn façades could not care less if you walk out their doors one last time without so much as a backward glance. Chances are, your name will never be etched in the sidewalk like the selected few.

Life in UP Diliman is difficult, but I learned to live for these fleeting moments of tranquility — overcast skies that signal impending rain yet shield us from the overbearing sun.

This is why as you scuttle along the Academic Oval, I hope you find the people that will give you strength along the way. I hope you learn to be kinder to yourself, even when the rest of the world seems bent on making your life miserable. When the time comes for you to lose it all, arms outstretched in your selfless act, I hope you find yourself in the end.

I will tell you when this grand gesture finally happens for me. For the meantime, I shall take a moment to stop and smell* the sunflowers at the end of the road. I hope you do too.

*If you’re curious: They don’t smell like much. At least my nose couldn’t pick up on any distinct scent. Let’s just say I’m exercising my artistic license here.