From Our Readers: Wish
The night gets darker, making the stars of the summer night sky more vivid in my tired eyes. I get back to bed to get a better view of the vintage clock, which hangs beside the framed photo of two young people flaunting their high
school diplomas. We seemed to be really happy back then.
Two minutes before the clock hits 11:11.
I'm a hundred and twenty seconds away from my only hope. I close my my eyes, and pull the heart-shaped pillow beside me—the pillow you gave me on our very first Valentine's date. As I wrap my arms around it, I feel my heart beat faster; the way it does when my chest touches yours. It almost felt like we were hugging once again, except that I couldn't feel the presence of your arms on my side or your fingers on my spine anymore.
One more minute.
I am not the type of person who makes wishes before blowing birthday candles. I don't whisper my hopes to fallen eyelashes or floating dandelions. I usually just pray, and let things be. But this time, I'm desperate. If I have to back up my prayers just to ensure that I'll have what I'm currently craving for, I will. I will, because I miss you.
My heartbeat gets louder and faster as the remaining ticks ring in my ear.
I glance at the clock once more.
"I hope and pray that, once more, I become what you wish for."
Anna Biala is a 2nd year journalism student from the University of the Philippines Diliman.