How to Always Smile (Notes)
2007. You lose your book in PreCalculus. The thought of your mom scolding you scared you. You didn’t tell her. You just look for the book subtly, making sure your mom won’t know you lost it. You cry at the idea of you leaving the book at the jeepney. You cry all night over the book. You realize, the next day, that your block mate brought it home with him.
The Human Security Act was released. You wonder what terrorism exactly they’re trying to hunt down. You think of the things you want to hunt down too.
Long Test 2 results came. You waited before all left the house, and you cried.
2006. You didn’t cry at school this year. All are surprised.
Eraserheads songs are once again played. You hum to the beat of Maskara.
2005. Your class forgot to turn off the electric fans. This is a big no-no. You hate it. You say you’re the one to blame.
2004. You met boys, for the first time. They do exist! You thought you didn’t care. But you cried about them, and you just can’t stop.
Scientists say they have cloned human embryos.
2003. Your teacher scolded you. You cried, of course. Your cousin spilled everything to your sister. She didn’t have to, but she did. Why did she do that? All you know is that you hated it.
2002. You can’t control the class. You wail. One bitchily said, “Iyakin kasi.” And you barked back, “Ano yun, ano yun? Sinong iyakin?”.
A new theory opposing the Big Bang is out.
2001. Erap was impeached. Everything seems chaotic.
You learn to crochet. The single chain, the double chain. But you can’t do the basic. You cry. Your grandma comes to your aid, and you’re humiliated. You don’t need any help. Cry again.
2000. You run for Assistant Rapporteur for the student council. You’re pretty confident you deserve to win. But your rival won because she was prettier. You didn’t cry, or at least in front of them. It was your first defeat.
1999. Henry Way Kendall dies.
You forgot to bring something home. Your mom scolds you. Your cousin, with his flabby tummy and sweaty armpits mock how you wipe your green, sticky snot. You hate his smelly feet, and you go inside your room. You cry that you’re crying. And you cry that you can’t stop crying. And the worst part is, you cry because you’re crying about crying.
It is endless.
1998. You read about an elephant, and you have to draw it. You’re too proud to trace the elephant, but you can’t draw. What must you do?
Cry.
1997. First day of classes. You don’t cry anymore. But you did, when your teacher asked, “O ano, iyakin ka pa ba?”
1995. It’s your first time to go to school. New bag, new shoes, new everything. You cry out to your sister’s class everyday. Her teacher is annoyed. You’ll meet her someday. You bring orange juice for recess. It spills. You cry, you scream at the top of your lungs, “Juice ko! Juice koooooo!”.
1993. For some reason, your mom scolded you. Everything is just so blurry. All you can recall is that you cried and she said, “Kung hindi ka titigil diyan, bibigyan kita ng iiyakan mo.”
You stopped.
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