Ten years ago, I feel so invincible and indestructible. No baton, shield or threats of incarceration can break us. They will never break us. Not the hypocritical school dictator, not the local police, not even feudal god himself. We paint the town red, crimson red, scarlet-like, warning the unrepentant, giving notice to the coming. Words were shouting, written, angry, splattered on ugly Manila walls, reeking with piss and shit. Words, though sometimes alone, were never really alone. A reminder that the imperishable remain imperishable and unconquerable.
Ten years ago, I feel I can take the whole world, deny it and refuse it, rip it apart, rip it to pieces and rip the rotten cadaver out of its propertied soul. I scream so loud that no boundaries can limit it, no stupid blog can confine it, no restrictions and imposed margins can scare or mellow it, no politician can interpellate it.
Everyday for the last ten years, I can hear my scream echo in every street corner, in every diploma mill, in every factory, in every music and poetry, joining with other screams, with other roars, flirting with peril, like a bullet forever on a ricochet, coveting the impossible, demanding the unattainable, celebrating the orgy of the great unwashed.
Now, I’m 29 years old, ten years after. I'm sitting on the edge of the cliff, pondering, wondering, looking. Was it all worth it? Do I still feel unbreakable, undying and unyielding?
"It is always raining in my mind."
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Was it all worth it?
You bet it is. And we are just warming up. Hear us roar louder. We will spit on the cradle of this ‘new democracy’ and mock it again and again. We will never be satisfied. We will never be contended. Yes, we will destroy your ‘world’ and build a new one instead.
Screw you. We're still here.
Emman Hizon, 29, and still angry.
