. I would just like to share a short story about
which I wrote a couple of years back. Let the celebration of the
They say that music is the common language that is understood by everyone in the world, and a song is the language of the soul. No wonder good and popular melodies are produced by great minds and meaningful feelings. But like every story, a real story is behind it:
behind every song, is a soul.
Kyle Andre Montemayor is an aspiring composer, and a frustrated writer. At the age of 24, he has already received numerous recognitions both in school and writing contests for his skill in writing. But he’s not an author in profession, nor a musician, he is a call center agent – a commoner who sleeps at daytime and works on the graveyard shift.
Inside his studio-type condominium unit around 3:00 AM at the 14th floor, room 143 of Vivere Suites, Filinvest Corporate City, Alabang, Muntinlupa City, Kyle sits at the rightmost corner of his room. Alone, he sits on a swivel chair beside his messy, wooden study table; in front of him is a pen, a piece of paper, and ink blots all over it. Illuminated only by the bleak light of his one-year and eleven-month old lampshade, he stares into nothingness, thinking. As the unnerving feeling crept all over the veins of his body, Kyle realizes that this is his first time to do such a thing. He is to write a song –
his first ever song. But his mind is blank as black. He can’t think of something to draw inspiration…
Not until.
Last night, on the eve of Valentine’s Day, the unexpected happened. His two-year old boyfriend broke up with him, and the reason, he doesn’t know. Yes, Kyle is gay –
a bisexual. Their two-year rollercoaster-like relationship has finally come to an end. And worse, he thought that their supposed true love was worth the effort to fight for.
Two nights ago, around 7:35 PM at his condominium unit, Kyle and his boyfriend was busy cuddling each other on the swivel chair. It has been a month since they saw each other, and the only reason why his boyfriend was there is because February 13 is Kyle’s birthday. When they were just about to lock lips, the familiar sound of an opening door filled the silent, romantic condominium air. And next thing Kyle knew, his father has already started cursing him and his boyfriend, and his mother stood still on the door, stunned, with tears falling down her aged cheeks. Kyle tried to explain and explain, he fought for the sake of the two years he had invested on loving his boyfriend, but his father’s answer was a hard punch on his right face, a curse, and a spit. After those awkward and scandalous moments of his life, his parents and boyfriend left, and he knew what’s next to come: he is no longer a Montemayor.
Just this night, upon arrival at his work in HSBC Ortigas at around 8:40 PM, he thought everything would be normal. He has accepted the fact that his parents could not accept his being bisexual, but he still questions the sudden break up of him and his boyfriend. He thought positively, that maybe his boyfriend was just still afraid of what happened on his condominium last, last night; that maybe his boyfriend needs to think and rethink and then would come to realize that their love is strong: that maybe his boyfriend needs space after what happened. He knew his boyfriend, he knows that they love each other very much – that’s what
he knew.
As he pushed the up button of the elevator on the HSBC building’s lobby, he waited with a positive vibe that everything would be OK in a matter of days, hours, minutes, and seconds. But after a few seconds, the elevator door pushed open; and after a split second, his world collided and crashed right in front of the two most unlikely persons he would want to see together. In front of him stood two persons, both on their casual attires; a few seconds ago, the two were sweet and holding hands, now they both wear frightened faces with bulging eyes. One was Kyle’s boss, a self-confessed gay, around 30 plus; and the other one was his boyfriend – the love of his life. He did not let them to speak up, nor to step out of the elevator; instead, he ran as fast as he could. He escaped the humiliation, the reality that surprised him. He got a cab, rode on it, and turned-off his cellular phone.
Now here he is, at the rightmost corner of his room, sitting on his swivel chair beside his messy, wooden study table, on top was a paper, a pen on his right hand, illuminated by the first gift of his boyfriend. He turned to the only thing he knew that comforts him – writing. But unlike his old masterpieces, this time he wants to write a song. After reminiscing the past events of his semi-charmed life, he began to push the pen on the ink-blotted paper… he began to write.
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On the morning of February 15th, 2006, a man’s body was found at the 14th floor, room 143 of Vivere Suites, Filinvest Corporate City, Alabang, Muntinlupa City. The authorities discovered the body around 7:00 AM, it was hanging from the unit’s ceiling, with the swivel chair almost under the man’s feet. In the man’s right hand was a pen, and on the study table beside where they found the swivel chair and the body hanging, they found not a love letter nor a suicidal note, but a composition. It was Kyle Andre Montemayor’s first song, A Love Letter For No One.
