enVELOpe (1988, for Ylsa)
Nancy ko,
I don't even know how to start this without sounding like a siraulo, but then again, when have I ever not been? It's been months since I last saw you, but it feels like years, like a whole putanginang lifetime has passed between us. The stairs of Tandem feel different without you--emptier, lonelier, like it's missing a heartbeat that only you could give. And I hate that. I hate that you did this to me.
Before you, I thought I had it figured out. I thought I was wild enough, free enough, punk rock enough to be untouchable. But you--Diyos ko, Nans--you made me feel everything so much more than I ever wanted to. I didn't want to care about anyone or anything, but you walked into my fucked-up world with your fake leather jacket, fishnet stockings, and your ridiculous anarchist ideals, and suddenly, it was like everything I thought I knew wasn't enough anymore.
I watch the same kalyes and eskinitas we used to stomp through, the ones where we laughed too loud--Too Drunk to Fuck [DK]--and ran from things we didn't have names for. I see ghosts of us in every kanto and hear your soft voice in every Fatal Disguise song blaring from some underground venue. And I wonder--how did you do it? How did you manage to slip into my ribs and stitch yourself so tightly into me that I can't breathe without feeling you there?
I keep thinking about that opening night on the Isetann rooftop, you know, the one. When we swore we'd never be like them conyo chongs--never settle, never give in, never sellout. But you, Nancy, you were always braver than me. You actually meant it. You took off, and I'm still here, stuck in the same cassette loop, afraid to jump. Maybe I'm just not built like you, maybe I never was.
I don't blame you for leaving, but I can't forgive you for it either. Not yet. 'Cuz now I'm left with all these broken pieces of us, and I don't even know what to do with them--even with Rugby in hand. I tell myself I should be mad at you, but deep down, I just miss you. I miss your goth makeup when you'd shoplift black lipstick from the mall, I miss the way your matte-manicured hands shook when you got too excited about some new Crass idea that no one else would ever understand.
I guess what I'm trying to say is--I'm still here, Nans. I'm still in this filthy city, in our Avenida, trying to figure out what it all means without you. And it's hard. It's so fucking hard.
Wherever you are in AmeriKKKa, I hope you're finding whatever it is you were looking for. And if you're not--well, I hope you come back here. 'Cuz some things feel unfinished, and I don't know if I can finish them on my own.
With all the love & anger I've left,
Goody
XOXO
Hoy, Goody!
I got your crappy letter, and it hit me like a bottle of SMB*--which is so effing expensive here! I don't even know what to say, but I'll try not to cry. I wish I could tell you that I'm out here living the Pinoy punk dream, that every wintry December night feels like an Isetann rooftop moment, that I've found whatever it is I was searching for when I left the c[o]untry. But the truth is, I'm just moving, drifting, trying to outrun something I can't name.
You said the cinema stairs feel empty without me, but I think it was always empty--at least for me. I thought leaving would fill me up, that I'd find something bigger than us, bigger than all of our Avenida. But I keep looking over my shoulder, and you're still there, in every crack of asphalt, in every flicker of a neon beer sign. And it hurts, Goods. It hurts more than I thought it would.
I wish I could tell you I'm coming back, that I'm ready to face all the things I ran from, but I'm not. I don't know if I ever will be. The truth is, I'm scared. Scared that if I stop running, I'll realize I was never really going anywhere. Scared that I left the best parts of me behind, in Recto--with you.
I don't blame you for being mad, and I don't blame you for missing me. I miss you too, more than I can put into words. I miss the way you'd roll your eyes at my stupid plans of TNT**, the way you always made me feel like I wasn't just some reckless idiot chasing shadows.
I wish I could be the person you thought I was, but I'm not. I'm just me, and sometimes that doesn't feel like enough. Maybe it never will.
I hope you find something better than waiting on someone like me. I hope you find something and someone real.
Take care of yourself, okay?
Nancy
*San Miguel Break
**Tago Nang Tanginamo