tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
As far as i could remember, my earliest memory is when I was inside the taxi, rotating the handle of the window. My mother told me that that is the same day when I got an accident, that led me to the hospital.
My most highlighted memory is when I was hiding at the stairs, crying for my sisters won’t allow me to get out of the house.
This is my the first time to write on this site; and might also be my last. Many events are preventing me to do what I want to.
I just want to narrate how’s the day a while ago.
I woke up at 4am( Actually by my father), ate my breakfast, took a bath, and so on. Basing upon my lifestyle , being the so-called GC in the classroom,; life is just a cycle this day.I have to travel once more in my life for four hours.
I rode on a tricycle, and waited within thirty minutes, this time it was maddening since I am living in a bucolic village, yet the traffic jam transpires. My anger rises when I found out that the road is being constructed. How poor barangay! I have already anticipated what would it look like for another ten years. Like a squashed cake— leaving several accidents per year.
Ah, five more minutes, and it was over. I get off the steel engine, and went near the old bridge. I heard blasphemes on one jeep, arguments on the other; so I didn’t get in, also for the reason that both are full. It was still dark, but I felt anxious since I had to get to Intramuros before my finals grade in PE became 5:00. We would have a practice.
Five jeeps passed— all of them are full. So I decided to fill in the hiatus where the passengers could walk when they had to get off. I uttered syllogistic words, and one came.
I went to Tejero where the bus terminals are located. Finally, there is one left. At the time I saw two colors- green and red; I became worried since that already gave me an idea that that’s busline involved on accidents at NLEX recently. I heard rumors that this company is corrupted, that is why many problems arise on their work. There was a time when it stopped at the middle of the seashore on late nine; I was so mad at the driver— he didn’t gave a refund for my fifty pesos- fare.
But this time, everything seemed alright. I sat near the rear of the bus, and started to pray. It was my ritual whenever i travel alone. Man was seated beside me, and he got a bit annoyed because he (might be) is rubbing his arms next t mine. But anyways, It’s fine. He got out earlier than I did.
I was two hours inside the bus.
I looked at the watch. Six-thirty. My goodness, I might’ve been late. That means, I might receive a five in the final exam! Feeling very fearful, I hurried walking at Manila city hall to catch up the jeepneys , but first I got past through the underpass. As usual, I saw stacked garbage at the side, which is really awful to once it diffuse. There, I got company: men and women in uniforms also looked irritated , and waiting for the jeep going to Round Table to arrive. It has been ten minutes while we are waiting; hoping, but to no avail. We became deaf on the dispatcher located about a meter away from us, telling to get in there so we could go.
convinced with the late-aged man, we get in.
I got off, and saw no other person familiar to me. I already knew they would do it to me. It’s the eighth time I was the only one who attended the meeting, and went home enraged.
"Prepare yourselves, you might not want to see me when I’m angry," I told to myself.