Defeat is not the end of it

Before my third class I felt like undergoing an absolutely fragmented sense of nostalgia. The question is, are you afraid to step forward?

Defeat is not the end of it. That line made the rounds of my head throughout the entire day - from the moment Nadia (surprisingly) gave me a hug, to the moment I ruined my enlargements, to the moment I found myself talking to Meg out of the blue, to the moment I playfully grabbed Osang's hand when we passed by each other, to the moment our talk recording almost got ruined. I don't know, but I'm certainly not calling it motivation, or at least not entirely. You know, it's as if all the things you've seen today didn't make any cohesive sense.

Then again, it's as if things have suddenly surfaced for one more time. It's when you realize that you have to look at things in a different way as opposed to the last time you changed viewpoints, and quickly make sure that you've equipped yourself. True, suddenly-already-taken Karla is getting me to play a homosexual in her PSA because I made quite an impression, or I've been receiving (automatically dismissed) death threats again, but beneath the labels are subtle reminders that I haven't been moving on as quickly as I supposed I should have been, at least for myself. But come to think of it, really...

I guess I've constantly fed myself with memories. As if they were any happier, but at least it's a fleeting reminder of how ridiculous I acted with situations that are otherwise common to you. With the handful of events that happened today, I wondered whether I've actually attempted to do something about it, and thankfully, I have.

Tracy was here today, and apparently she has spent the entire afternoon with Derek and Miss Salvador - surprising despite the fact that she has shifted from AB-CAM to AB-LIM. That was a chance for us to pick up on where we left our conversations off, although election talk has left me constantly lost because of distractions. Maybe talking with her makes me sound sensible for a minute, or because I've been receiving death threats precisely because of that, but I realized that my spoon-fed nostalgia meant I had an anchor to stab myself with. True, I realize what the term context actually means. I was surprised I got the hug but I consoled myself by thinking that it was one of the most powerful scenes of the year - look, a helping hand is all I can offer, even if it's just there to console what usually cannot be. And today, I realize, there are reasons to hold on. Defeat is not the end of it.

I still don't have my back against the wall. I can still bounce, although obviously I cannot afford to do so, at least in the future. Right now I'm not talking about it, and maybe that's why I insist on thinking it hasn't made anything equally significant. But then again, when I realized I told Tracy that it isn't anything about what I felt, but about what I think must have been - flipped differently, of course - I realized that, hey, something has happened. And all I can feel now is some sort of sadness because, inevitably, the landscape has changed and I've become quite used to it. Or maybe just a little bit, but it's inevitable I adapt to it - maybe by sticking to the past, or looking for someone new to hold on to.

I don't care whether it's black, bright or similar - defeat is not the end of it.

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