Stack Bananas

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A: So, Dave...

D: ...

A: Good to see you back, son. It's been a while since our last session so... tell me what's been going going.

D: A lot.

A: Care to talk about it?

D: Well, I'm good, you know. Same old, same old.

A: I see you're still hesitating to open up. We've talked about this. Come on. Nothing bad is going to happen.

D: Yesterday, Gab, my classmate, loaded me up with things to do for a production.

A: Go on.

D: She's executive producer and I showed interest in being an anchorman so she assigned me to be one. But I know a few tricks our crew can use behind the backdrop. I offered to do some technical chores as well; like making the logos, sound effects, stuff like that.

A: There we go. Was opening up a little, difficult?

D: Not really.

A: Then keep going, son.

D: So I was at school and my friends, well most of them, had plans after class. Gab said I should go home right away to start working. Instead, I stopped by Cubao again to stroll around aimlessly.

A: Dave, I think it's best you stop associating negative reasons for things you do on your own.

D: I'm not. Really. I don't know why I end up going there now and then. I heard on TV that walking around a mall seeing all you want to buy releases dopamine, a bodily chemical that makes you feel good. It's the only rational explanation so far.

A: Well... what do you do? I mean, what do you think of when you're in there? How do you feel?

D: Normally, I think of all sorts of things. From why people wear the clothes they do, the way they do--to daydreaming about being a rich million-dollar-a-single rock star. Speaking of what people wear, I put together a few ideas in my last visit.

A:  Yeah? Like what?

D: See, I'm planning to buy new shoes. My old ones look totaled though they still wear good on dry ground. I walked around Gateway looking for a decent pair, then I noticed how different people have different tastes in footwear and clothes in general. Then I concluded that how people dress, is a pale reflection of their personality. I have a classmate, Daphney, who wears flip-flops and plain shirts to school on most days. Both explain her personality in ridiculously expressive ways. She's what I call an alpha-female. Her flip-flops signal that she isn't afraid to get noticed and be out in the open. Her plain shirt suggests she doesn't care in general how people receive her, thus, shirts and blouses on the grotesque, Rajo Laurel side of fashion doesn't appeal much to her. On the opposite end, I have a classmate, Jason, who fashionistas from head to foot on most days. He's quite the introvert; a silent personality who keeps himself, to himself. With limited socialization, it's basic he grows sensitive to the little he gets. His Chucks, neatly tied and spotless, say how vulnerable he is to social weather; How it is important that people have a good mental picture of him. His traits and Dapney's complement each other. They don't collide. So, it's no surprise they grew close as friends over the past few years.

A: Whoa. I should take you as my therapist. Kidding. Ha ha.

D: Way to unwind, huh. Well, if what I said appears on some runway, next-top-model show, I don't want my name mentioned.

A: I don't think anyone takes you seriously enough to... believe you.

D: What do you mean no one--

A: It's--

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D: --and that isn't all there is.

A: Why such a negative opinion about people?

D: It isn't negative, I just don't think reality is stable. But that's my--

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D: Yesterday, I saw my classmate, Kent, drawing a bomb with a flame beside it. They were miniature and they both have faces so you'd know they were asleep. The lesson was boring and I wasn't taking in anything so I decided draw with him.

A: Okay?

D: He drew the bomb leaning against the flame. Its fuse lit up all the sudden and everything became panicky. I told Kent I'd draw the ending and he let me. So I drew the bomb's fuse growing shorter but instead of screaming for help or alarm, I made it sneeze facing the flame. The its fuse died down, but there was nothing left of the flame but a few embers and the shoes I drew to visualize it as a character. Finally, the fuse lit up again and the bomb panicked once more--that was my ending.

A: That wasn't an ending. It sounds like a brain dead suicide bomber meeting a potato.

D: Well, it wasn't meant to be the next comic hit.

A: All right. How is it relevant to our topic?

D: Little did I know, the bomb and the flame would be me and Kent in a little bit.

A: It was catchy though.

D: I found words written on another piece of paper, behind the one I was drawing in.

A: And?

D: I thought it was scratch for some article he was working on, but I wanted to read it anyway. Turns out it was a poem. Upon seeing the sight of me reading it, Kent went frantic. He reached and grabbed for the paper almost desperately, enough to let me know something was up. I let him have it. I managed to read only the first two lines.

D: He went back to his chair with a peculiar expression in his face. I've seen it only once before.

A: And that time was?

D: Another classmate, Charisma, was digging Youtube for disgusting clips from Saw and Texas Chainsaw Massacre to piss me off. Kent was watching, too. A few minutes later, Kent headed to the boy's room for a change of clothes. He went back pale, shaken and drained, carrying the expression I'm talking about.

A:  What happened to him?

D: He said he was too disgusted. But I thought otherwise. Maybe his blood pressure dropped or his heart palpitated somewhat. Maybe it was indigestion.

A: So his expression was of alarm--not of anger?

D: I don't know, man. But it reminds me... of a rabbit running from a bald eagle. I once had a pet rabbit and that's exactly how it looked when it was scared.

A: What do you think caused this reaction?

D: Again, man. Again,  I don't know. Maybe he was trying to keep the poem from being read. He later said that he has a side he doesn't want discovered. Well, he's 18 and a private citizen. I let him be.

A: And this little incident affected how you see people? Aw, come on, Dave. You're being too malleable.

D: What do you mean I'm too malleable? Have you seen how I've been with my parents?

A: Why do you take malleability as a negative point? I think it's just a branch of insecurity.

D: What does my sense of security have to do with this? We weren't talking about me in the first place. Shit.

A: Easy. Maybe if you cut down on that shit word. You know, that's--that's a bad--

D: I'm not attacking you...

A: I didn't say you are. It's just--I just think--

D: ...you piece of shit.

A: All right. Okay. Last time we--

D: I heard somewhere that we are all just watching one another from their little boxes, from our little boxes. I recognized it as true. We all have a side unknown to everyone. It's up to nobody but to us to face ourselves at night; to recognize whose reflection it is looking back in the mirror. This world is a cold place, but then again, it's just how we see it. If you were to let all your negativity out in the open, who in their right mind would want to hang around you? We're all just actors. Earth is our stage, the sun our spotlight, the moon our symbol object, and the mountains to measure how high we're willing to take things. What do you think I write poems for?

A: For artistry. You--

D: Because telling anyone how you feel is a fucking waste of time. Well, mostly.

A: Now I can see the influ--

D: Yeah, this isn't me talking.

A: Phew. I'm glad.

D: ...

A: So, she was telling me you went touring...

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A: Dave, I think it's better you do away with your ideas. They can be negative and destructive at times. They don't work in the real world anyway. You're just crazing up. Enough stacking bananas.

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D: I... why confine my...


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