Last Friday, some friends decided to celebrate the end of the week by meeting up for a few drinks at a small bar in the city. I would've preferred an empty room, a warm drink. I liked the wooden table, the quaint, warm lamp, and the bat carved out of some lightweight planks and mounted on the far wall.
Bars, I found, were occupied not by people but by their human noise. A Caucasian woman standing in front of the restrooms in five-inch heels and a black, lacy top reached over and laid her warm, damp palm on the small of my back as I picked my way to the water-closet. Her uneven, bruise-red lipstick coated her laugh. The stage--a platform painted black and shoved into the far corner--serviced the L-shaped dining hall, not large at all, only a few meters across and crammed full of long tables. The seven-man band's lead singer's sounded like he recorded radio canned laughter. Sitting at a table in front of us, five women bent over one of their own, commiserating over Sally's newest sob-story. Not that they could hear her.
It was the noise I despised.
What is the point of being together--and traveling through two cities in Friday rush hour traffic--if the most substantial subject you broached in our three hours together was your preference for a particular kind of cigarette and how long it took you to finish a stick. With the same slim hand you crumpled the empty Lucky Strike boxes and flung them against the table, violent with some inarticulate outrage. I've never known you to parade your scorn so openly and so proudly.
Watching you made me tired.
The most I can do when I run out of kindness is to be silent and still.
I arrived in another room another city with pockets weighed down with the same growing poverty of kindness. I shared a table with several strangers and a few acquaintances. From now on, I will assume that in the company of adults, no one is required to participate in conversation. I'm so tired of feeling responsible for other people's comfort. I have to learn my limits and to be more judicious with the way I spend my energy and time and words, because these are all so difficult to take back.
For a long time I've wanted more restraint. I think what I wanted was to run out of rope and to reach the end of my patience and all the utter bullshit from people I have to keep forgiving. Ayoko na. Kayo naman ang makisama.
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