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Midas

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I vividly remember the time the city stopped for a minute. It was about you. It was about how you wanted to put our city in the spotlight. You succeeded, motherfucker. It was your day and I became jealous of the attention you were getting.

You were known to have that Midas touch. Everything you touched became a hit. What can I expect, you were bullish in everything you held. The first encounter we had a decade ago, the touch you had was a hit. But it was different. Because you fucking hit me in the face when I called you for handling the ball in the middle of our soccer match. Asshole, that’s why it is called football.

I just heard from friends that you graduated valedictorian in high school. You never grew to be the athletic star you dreamed of during our elementary days. But you became this nerd who second-based with almost a third of the hot girls in your school in exchange for doing their homework. You sneaky little bastard.

In college, who would have thought that we were going to be schoolmates. You failed in being a maroon and we just did not have enough money to be an archer. So we both settled in the tiger’s lair.

I never saw you until our final year in college but I have been hearing your name countless times. You were this 5.0 wizard and a student-leader. Off-campus, you were known to woo girls by being a bassist. While here I was, trying to figure out how I managed to survive 36 months in a flood-prone campus without learning a single management theory.

You were planning to organize this big concert. I volunteered because I wanted to do something out of my box before I get counted as part of our unemployment rate. I had to narrate to you that football incident for you to remember me. 10 minutes past and you still barely remember that. So you added me as part of your food committee because I felt like you saw me as an outcast of your circle.

I worked my ass off that I impressed you. You invited me over beer and got to reminisce the past with you. You still cannot remember that soccer match but you can highly remember all our field trips. It was fun to know how you lost your wallet in Biak-na-bato. You laughed when I told you the time I vomited in the middle of the space shuttle ride in that imitation-disneyland in Laguna.

So yes, you gave me an important position in the same event while you were half-conscious. Now I am the logistics head. For the first time, I felt how it is like to be a king.

Despite my visions, I was still that outcast that failed to align my goals with your own. Though I knew I did my 101%, it was still not enough for you. Everything was half-baked. Still, the event was a success that the mayor gave you the key to the city.

But I never went mad at you. I savor the moment that you trusted me with an important position. It was a great learning experience that led me to the event organizing industry. I am on my 7th year and my pay has raised by 60% since then. Every day is crunch-time. Every moment requires a buzzer beater. My career is stressful and toxic but you taught me how to weather it all.

I was meeting a college friend when I heard the news how you were struggling with life. Despite the Latin honor and citations you had in College, you never got the chance to bloom in the world of slavery. You were juggling different jobs every week so that you can pay your rent. Rumors swirl how alcohol became your friend.

I vividly remember the time the city stopped for a minute. It was about you. It was about your untimely death. They still remember what you did. You succeeded, motherfucker. It was your day and honestly, I miss you.


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