Today, I heard that phrase again.
It's almost identical to what we used to say. I still remember how, on the way to the home you gradually grew to hate, we swore that in the future, we'll all be living together.
On the corner of the street where the two of you lived, we'd excitedly ramble about our dream house–for the four of us. Laughing about how funny it would be if we called each other by our nickname, only for all of us to respond.
At the time, I thought life was truly worth living. Because I finally had something to look forward to. Because you made me become the fourth member of the group. And I thought I finally had somewhere to belong.
Summer... no, summers came and passed. I don't remember how we gradually grew apart. Maybe it's when one of us had to transfer out–and it's crazy how I initially transfered in. Maybe it's life being funny, and maybe it's because I intruded in your three-person world, that someone had to leave just so I could stay.
But things were just not the same after she left. With just the three of us, it became harder to meet. But I never forgot. Or maybe I did. But whenever I heard your favorite kpop songs, it's you who I remember.
Unconsciously, I remembered your birthday. I still remembered how old you would be every year. I remembered where you live. I remembered your mother, your sister, your cousin. I remember everything about you.
So when I heard the news about how a 22-year-old woman died one day, and how it was HER cousin, I immediately knew. I frantically searched for your name. Hoping and praying that it wasn't you.
I hated how I had to search our old gc only to tell everyone that you're gone. I hated how I cowardly held off on going until it's the last day of your wake. I hated ever having to go at all. I hated how, despite not having walked that road in 9 years, I still remembered where the next turn is. I hated how the muddy ground had turned into something I didn't recognize, and yet I still knew where you were. I hated seeing you in that tarpaulin.
But most of all, I hated how you looked in that coffin.
Because what I saw doesn't resemble you at all. You, who've always loved to be pretty. You, who taught me how to use makeup. You, who didn't want anyone to see you in a mess.
I couldn't see any trace of you.
"Pakiramdam ko bigla na lang syang magpapakita, tapos sasabihing 'Ma, joke lang'."
That's what you mother told me. After seeing my face and embracing me, crying. After recognizing me as the one who looked like you, and shared the same nickname as you. "Sabi ko na... sabi ko na." Like she still remembered me, the kid who just became your friend one day.
Over the years, I can't count how many people I've planned a dream home with. Whenever they'd propose about the idea, I couldn't help but remember how our circle planned it first. I always end up thinking that it might never come true. I'd think about how we gradually grew apart and lost contact with each other.
Today, I heard someone propose the same thing. But unlike my cynicism before, this time I froze. Because I remembered you, and how our plan will never really come true.
Because how, when the one who wanted it the most, was the one who left first?