17 Again, Or So He Thinks

People have a way of impacting lives with entrances of all sorts. It can be with a killer smile or a deep, unforgettable voice; with an unexpected act of kindness or a stupid, humiliating moment. Even that first eye contact is already an impact.

But his is different.

I first learned of his existence when he entered my sophomore high classroom with his classmate (also, his best friend) to narrate about their circumcision. Perhaps it is due to the tenderness of that period in my life that his story quickly slipped away from the grasps of my clumsy memory. All I can remember is the muffled echo of laughter that escaped from our chests in response to their incredibly funny nature.

And it ended then and there. I forgot he was actually a part of the people populating this planet. I forgot about how he made me laugh so much that one time. I forgot about him.

That was his impact. Blurry and fragile.

Yet, because fate has a knack for getting things the way it wants them to be, I met him again. This time, we were classmates.

Golly, he’s so darn tall I couldn’t quite believe what my eyes were seeing. Duh, I vaguely knew I’ve seen him before but I couldn’t tell whether he was actually towering the way he was doing so then or he had just experienced an extreme growth spurt over summer. (Hint: A few inches greater than {square root of [square root of 784 – cube root of 27] + 1} feet. P.S. Sorry, that’s all I know on Math. Don’t complain.)

So, he is tall. Alright, I know that already. He likes Fall Out Boy and cheeky girls. He kind of moves awkwardly. He’s the tears-in-your-eyes/pee-in-your-pants kind of funny. His jokes are, well, jokes you can’t not laugh at. His presence is annoying, and at the same time, adorable. He’s kind of a douche, in an irritatingly cute way (but, don’t forget about tolerance and limitations).

He’s not typical.

He hates coffee; bitter, revolting. He dislikes tweeting without any creativity. He has this unjustified disliking for Coco Martin. He claims he’s a Belieber. He loves basketball (and you should’ve already assumed that by now).

He has read Ricky Lee’s Para Kay B, and is recommending it (“You should read it, guys!”). He’s infatuated with UPD’s very own Iskorambol. He’s head over heels for Lea Michele a.k.a. Rachel Berry in the TV Series Glee. He reblogs on Tumblr…a lot.

He values love and friendship very much.

Throughout my nearly three years of having the privilege of basking in his awesomeness, I think I’ve only learned a few handfuls about him. If there’s one thing I would pick out of those, it’s that he’s genuine. His cyberself is almost himself (an innuendo: he stays a lot online, don’t you think?). We’re all liars virtually, in one way or another. But him? He knows what the truth is and wouldn’t screw it up in order to suit his already-awesome image. Online, offline, or anywhere else.

Oh, why am I writing this?

Today is his 17th birthday! (What other reason did you have in mind, huh?)

And his impact on my life is somehow exaggerated by his height, but wait, there’s more.

I’ve learned from him that it’s not the truth that’s a bitch; we are. We twist facts into fiction, distort reality into fantasy. And then we complain, “The truth hurts!” or “reality bites,” when in actuality, we are the ones hurting ourselves with the lies we have conjured.

Somewhere in this winding journey, I realized that he entered my life to take my hand and lead me to the truth. For this, I am always thankful. Also, for an infinite number of more things, but that’s another story. *smiles

© Benedik Bunquin

Thank God for his marvelous existence. For 17 years of ass-kicking living, let’s have a toast!

Some Awesome Quotes of Rus Janry San Diego:

“We’re all gonna die anyway!”
“You don’t check if someone fits the bill. You check if that someone deserves one big check.”

“PANIS!”

Catch him here: Tumblr // Twitter // Formspring

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