Of Lost Dreams
Among other things I am so grateful for in life, it is being able to meet and experience the kind of lasting friendship I was able to feel with my former high school classmates. Everyone in the school at our time knew that the NNHS Quezonian batch of 2001 has the kind of bond and loyalty no other batches has ever been so brave to profess—the bond that was willing to defy even the highest seat of power of the school’s administration, in as far as our young ideals are concerned. And after four years of tail-biting with the admins, they acquiesced to the fact that we are indeed, inseparable in so many ways.
That was what we were in those days. We do things together as a team—as a group of young souls uniquely put together into one crazy circle fighting to make our presence visible in the world we live. We lift each other up and stumbled down together.
October 23, 2014, I was informed by a former high school classmate and a good friend that one of our classmate in high school has taken love addiction to a new level. Eboy, 30, our former frail and shy music-lover friend has just shoot himself after an argument with his girlfriend.
Yesterday, we lost him.
Our hearts break for the loss of one man who has so much promise but more because we did little to help him feel he wasn’t alone after all these years. How we manage to get in touch with the rest of our estranged classmates and yet failed to see that one man here was probably begging us to help him is beyond words to describe. We are devastated as hell.
We could not fully fathom what people are going through but we take responsibility for the indifference which could have had saved him from thinking of ending his life. Who would have known of his struggles? Of his dreams? None of us left would ever knew of the answer. So much life wasted and dreams shattered.
As we mourned for Eboy’s loss, we find the courage to forgive ourselves for not doing enough of what we could have had done. We could have had help you become the musician you aspired to become or the great father to your kids. But we failed.
Eboy, wherever you are, we are sorry. No. We are terribly sorry.
And just as I wrote this, another friend is going through the same struggle of fighting for his life. Albert, just keep holding on. Miracles happen everyday.
And Teddy, always remember that your struggles are never permanent. You, being Bipolar, does not make you less of a person. Do not make the same mistake Eboy did. We will fight for you. With you. Just hang on.
We will fight together like we used to.