stalk-ingly root-ing

I saw you last night.

I didn’t expect to see you there. I thought you were either in our hometown or in another country. But then I guess I’ve confused you with your younger brother who is probably everywhere: LA, New York, etc, (thanks to lookbuk.nu and facebook.com).

I saw you sitting there. You looked so excited with what you were talking about. I’ve never seen hands that animated. Then I just had to bring my gaze to your face, and it stopped right at your lips.

I remember back in our 4th Grade class. You sat right in front of me. You were always so silent, and with that, although you were one of those good looking students in our class, I couldn’t help associate you with that of a parrot. You tend to keep your mouth closed like what a parrot does to its beak. I swear I didn’t see you talk except that one instance when you surprised everyone (including our teacher) when you said a scientific word (that I cannot seem to recall now) that no one else in the class had an inkling about. I thought you were awesome. Our teacher thought so, too.

I saw you sitting there, talking. Your lips have withered, I could tell. You must have smoked a lot of cigarettes and the dangerous whatnot.

My mind went back to our 4th Grade class. You got high scores in Science quizzes. With that, I began to think you were going to be an Astronaut or something. Then one day, we had those short quizzes. It was very difficult that I kept on looking up and down just to keep my eyes away from those numbers with blank answers on my paper. Then I saw you move your hand stealthily to the Science book to its chapter to its page where the answers we were all dying to have were. I stared in disbelief that I sssh-ed you as if you were making lots of noise. But you just looked at me and continued searching for the answers in the book and you broke my heart. That was the time I wondered why you were what you were: silent and deadly—yes, you were, at that time. Then I found out your parents were prominent people and were separated. In a hometown like ours, it was almost taboo. I thought you were just too young to have to go through that kind of setup, and your two younger brothers, too. But silently, amidst all that, I was rooting for you.

I saw you sitting there, talking. You’re probably still good looking, but I can tell you’re not at your best.

We were no longer in 4th grade then when I last saw you. I saw you got in the wrong kind of crowd. I wasn’t surprised, just got a little disappointed. But silently, still, I was rooting for you.

Then I saw you there, talking, with feet crossed. I just had to look away. You reminded me so much of my brother.

And you, I don’t think you saw me. I’d like to think you did though that you paused for a short time when you saw me.

But if indeed, it’s true that you saw and paused for me, I don’t think it would have mattered nor I would have mattered.

What matters is, silently, still, here I am rooting for you.