Nights like this

There we were, sitting on the cool AS steps with the hazy twilight hanging above our heads and the roar of the jeepneys orchestrating with countless conversations of students. Two of us were in our high school uniforms, and the last girl in the group was sporting a pair of shorts we'd always take into controversy. We were asking ourselves what would happen if there was a zombie Apocalypse in school, and we were associating it with the game, "Dumb Ways To Die." We debated on who would die first and who would survive, the other girl in the uniform usually being picked to turn into what she called the "Father Zombie." While the adorable characters were singing and dancing in my phone's brightly-lit screen, we identify our deaths with them—the other girl in the uniform pressing the red button out of curiosity and the girl wearing shorts grabbing her toast with a fork. I, on the other hand, would be the stupid one who took off her helmet while in outer space. 

In the middle of Shontelle's "Impossible", I look up to the purple sky tinged with dark blue. Then, absent-mindedly, I say, "I love my friends." One of them replies, "Let's have more nights like this."

Nights like this—carefree, relaxed, nothing to worry about except the deaths of teeny little characters making fun of their stupidity. Nights like this are what I crave for. Nights like this are what I love. Nights like this allow me to escape the real world, hitting me like anodyne and taking me to a realm where there are no dark histories and pressing problems. Nights like this with people you are happy with, with people you have learned how to love. 

I want more nights like this. I badly need nights like I long for more nights like this. Because these nights become burning coals in the blank pages of my life. These nights drown in a spiral of memories as they ignite me. As they fuel me. 

As nights like this become ME.