Its just one of those evenings.

The vehicle glides through Leon Guinto effortlessly. I wait at the Pergola, admiring the Christmas lights lit only during the evenings. For some time, Anna and I converse with each other and talk about our plans for the next year. Parents wait for their children, and you see their beaming faces. A child runs to her mother, as the latter envelops him in a tight embrace. I cannot help but smile. After a short while, I receive a call from the driver of the vehicle, indicating that he is already waiting in front of Gate 1. On my way to the exit, friends and acquaintances wish me a Happy Holidays. The guard even lets out a grin as the last school day of the year comes to a close. As I ride the vehicle that picked me up, no traffic challenged us at Gil Puyat, and I arrive home safely. I ride the elevator to our floor, and as our door opens, I smell a whiff of a delicious feast. But instead of sitting down by the dining table, I head to my room and open my closet. A selection of beautiful dresses await. They are all brand new; I bought them a week ago. The shoe closet is not bad either. They equal the dresses inside my wardrobe. I shower, dress, and put on makeup. The driver waits again, only this time at the parking lot. He takes me to the heart of Makati, where my High School friends and I have planned to spend our Christmas night out. We catch the last full show at the cinema, and have a hearty dinner at a nice restaurant. After a while, we decide to go somewhere else and go dancing. Sometime during the night, we run into the boy I like and his friends. We converse to know more about each other, have fun, and anxiously wait until the next time we see each other again. My best friend wishes me a good night, and I promise to fill her in on the details the next morning. The night ends in complete euphoria.

Those were my expectations. This is reality.

Leon Guinto is a mess. I wait at the Pergola, where screaming grade-schoolers, noisy teenagers, and anxious parents cloud the beauty of the evening sky. The PA system blares with the sound of the guards’ voices calling the names of the children whose parents have been waiting for them. Anna already left, and what I have to make up for it was a text message explaining why she needed to leave early (to which I do not blame her, naturally). The child does not run to her mother, and when she does reach her, the mother complains that she has been waiting for more than 30 minutes already. I see familiar faces, but no one stops to say goodbye and wish a happy Christmas. I do not have the luxury of having a chauffer pick me up. What I have is the sad misfortune of having to cross Pablo Ocampo, expletives running under my breath, because, apparently, cars are more important than pedestrians in this country. Gil Puyat is a little better, but still messy, and the driver of the jeepney I am riding does not know how to quickly maneuver his way around. I do arrive home safely, but the kid who threw a seemingly harmless paputok in front of the tricycle terrified me. In the elevator, the light flickered, and the mats are still dirty. When I finally arrive at our unit, my parents and siblings have already eaten half of the meal. My sister had to go through a lot of coaxing before she shared her chocolate cake. My closet is one big mess, and its a miracle I can still find my way around it when I need something to wear. I have really beautiful clothes, but they are not many. I need more time and money to shop for more shoes. I do not know how to put on makeup and even if I do, I do not have much money to buy the really good ones. I am going home alone, and I am not the type who willingly goes out at night to party. The next time I will be available to see my High School friends is this Friday, and even then, I am not yet certain if I can meet them. The boy I like has a girlfriend, and even if I did get the chance to speak to him, I would freeze and just smile. All the more if I run into him with his friends. The last text message I received from my best friend reeks of annoyance, and that was at five o’ clock in the afternoon. It’s now 15 minutes to ten. The night does not end in a euphoria, but with my fingers running over my laptop’s keyboard, trying to finish an entry so I can finally continue writing my paper on stylistics due on my professor’s e-mail at 12 midnight.

Its just one of those evenings.

The Peace Camp was a little bearable. I was able to persuade the anti-social Patti to come, and add an extra entry to her convo-card. My blockmates and I spent an afternoon together — something we have not done in a long time.

Its just one of those evenings. I think I am just fine. But even then, I am still fine.