Late Night Conversations #047

"I want to kill him," he says, "he's suffocating me."

We have been talking since midnight, and it's already two a.m.. He speaks of the burden of having to be the character of Kuya Bodjie, and how he hates carrying that weight all the time.

"I am not Kuya Bodjie," he declares, "I am not fucking wholesome."

He is a warm, reassuring voice on the other end of the line. I'd grown up watching him teach good manners to Pong Pagong, how to pronounce the letter ñ to kids everywhere. Ten years later, he's become a friend to whom I can spill little heartbreaks to, who makes fun of my ex-boyfriends' names ("robot ba sya," he laughs, "may antenna ba sya at kailangan mo sya lagyan ng langis?), who tells me everything will be alright, as long I go with the flow.

"Yang mga party-party na yan, he gruffs, napagdaanan ko na yan." That is only when his age shows, all his 50 years giving levity to his words. He is a rock now, letting himself be washed over by time and circumstance.

"You're young, it's only natural for you to be restless," he explains, "it will come when it comes."

Till then, I will wait. And live.