Memory Hitch

Memory hitch.

I hate it when i do that.

It means that something will change, something will be lost forever.

It is the moment when i take in as much as i can in that specific moment of time where i connect it to an object or a person that i may not see ever again to help me remember them whenever i see that specific .object

I did it back in grade school. Weeks before graduation.

I remember that moment.

I was sitting in class and suddenly, the reality sank in to me, all at once. Everything and everybody that i am seeing now, would not be the same tomorrow, next week, next month or maybe ever. I won't see this place after graduation, but most of all, i won't see my friends everyday, anymore.

I took in the fact that there is a small window at my left, splashing bright light among us. I remember looking down at the floor and just thinking what will happen after i graduate. I remember me and my friends having random conversations as if nothing big would happen in a matter of weeks.

All my memories of grade school are stored beyond a small window.

I graduated and nothing was the same as before.

We moved to another place and i went to high school.

New faces, new places, new life.
It was all well.


I gathered years worth of memories.

Memories i'll treasure forever.

And then it happened again, a few weeks  before graduation.

The feeling of reality suddenly creeping up inside is just unsettling.

I was, once again, sitting in the room during physics class.

I took in the fact that there is a small green notebook at the floor, waiting to be picked up by its careless owner. I took in the fact that my armchair was creaking and brown. And that my teacher was discussing something but her words were overtaken by my thoughts.

A little green notebook holds it all.

I graduated and went to another place.

I went to a university and took the course that i liked.

It was, i would say, a bland experience. At first.

All my movements were robotic due to homesickness and my studies.

Go to school, study, have lunch, go back to my studies, go at the dorm, study more, sleep. And then the process repeats itself again the moment i wake up the next morning.

My daily routine is, no other word for it, bland.

And then Camps happened.

Someone melted a whole box of crayons and splashed it across my empty canvas of life.

Seeing colors being messily spread across a canvas doesn't mean anything to anyone.

But it's something to me.

All of a sudden, that blandness i felt was just.... gone.

It was all gone.

I get excited everytime i go to school knowing that he's going to be there. Where as before, i drag myself to my classroom just to attend the first period.

He is my daily motivation.

My inspiration.

At last, some meaning was injected to my boring college life.

But unfortunately, nothing really lasts.
I hate myself for not paying attention to him much more earlier.

But i hate myself even more because i did so when he is only a few months from leaving because of their OJT.

Every time i see him, i think about what would happen after he goes.

What would happen to me?

Would he take away all those colors away too and leave me there, being back to my bland routine?

The thought of the person that somehow gave color to your life leaving is really terrifying.

And the thought of it just makes me damn uncomfortable.

A month from now, that person would be just....gone.


I won't see a person walking around the shop in the most indifferent manner i could think of.

I won't see a person driving around the campus in a Volkswagen Beetle.

I won't see a person wearing a black, race event souvenir t-shirt making the silliest laugh i've ever heard.

I won't see a person grinning in  the goofiest fashion ever.

I won't see a person swinging his arms back and forth lazily in the air.

A month from now, i won't feel giddy anymore walking inside the shop.
A month from now, life at the shop would be just......bland. Again.

A month from now or so, that person would be somewhere else being supervised all the time while working. Not just for the experience, but for the grades as well.

And a month from now, my heartbeat would return to its original,yet bland,rythm.

All of those thoughts just flooded up my mind and.... Damn.

I might not see Camps ever again. For the rest of my life.

The whole senior year of our course is dedicated entirely for the OJT.

And graduation comes after that.

The odds of seeing him after college is just so slim.

And then it happened again.

Memory hitch

I took in the fact that his Beetle is parked in front of the shop. I took in the fact that above the Beetle, a tree branch with only a few leaves on it is waving with the wind. I took in the fact that the sky was clear blue. I took in the fact that i'm leaning  at  our prof's car because our class was cancelled.

It was a three hour period and my dorm was only a five minute walk away from the university. So my instincts told me to go to the dorm and just take a break.

But i didn't

I chose not to.

I chose to be in the shop, in close proximity with Camps. Just trying to steal glances as much as i can, knowing that one day, i won't be able to do it again.

Heavyheartedly,

 I took in the fact that Camps is wearing a black shirt, and he's right there, working on something with his classmates.

I took in the fact that his hair, which sweeps from right to left,  turns into a shade of brown under the sun.

And i took in the fact that the person that makes me flash the most meaningful smile i could is standing there, only a few feet from me, completey unaware that a another person in the shop is admiring him from a distance.

My heart sank.

I realized at that point that i don't need to hitch him to anything. Because everytime i enter the shop, a weird feeling suddenly burns inside me and i only know one person who could do that.

I don't have to see an object to remember him, he is on my mind the very moment i open my eyes in the morning.

And that makes it all even worse.

After a month, i would be drawn back to the dreary world of blandness.

After a month, nothing would ever be the same again inside the shop. Ever.
For me, that is.

My next semester would start off with a longing sigh, waiting for the familiar burble of a Volkswagen Beetle that would never really come.


Farewell, Camps.



 Farewell.


-Ian