A love letter to magazines
Dear Magazines,
Wishing you good health and life in the next few years.
Ever since I first held a copy of you in 2013, I was in love with you. Your audaciousness and glamour struck me. Sometimes, I would be obsessed with you—treating you like my lover who won’t leave me in the dark.
But because of this pandemic, you may well be the lover that will leave me in the dark.
There is a catastrophe right now, and you’re on life support. Admittedly, I have only touched you once in the previous year, which is heart-wrenching. Our finances won’t permit me to feel you; quarantine protocols restrict me from seeing you. And though you’re available in a different format, it’s difficult to fathom this current setup of ours.
Maybe I’ll just have to be nostalgic of the good times, when everything was still normal.
When I see you stacked on my shelves, I remember how difficult it was to get you. It would take lengthy conversations to persuade my mother for us to be with each other. No matter what the circumstances were, I would make sure that we were together every month.
My classmates would be irritated by my deep devotion to you. When exchanging gifts at Christmas, I only wanted you. “Really?” they would ask, stunned. But after six years, they became accustomed to us being inseparable.
My relatives would also be irritated. “Why don’t you want clothes?” they’d ask. But all I wanted was you. One time, I even insisted that my aunt look for you in a pharmacy.
Wherever I was, I wanted to see your aura and allure. I wanted to sniff that addictive mixture of chemicals that permeated your pages. I wanted to touch your fragile glossiness. And even if you were wrapped in plastic, I felt your beauty was never covered.
I was giddy every time the cashier lady would swipe your barcode and wrap you in a paper bag. That was the signal that you were officially mine. That no one would prevent us from being intimate with each other.
And when I opened you, the world would suddenly stop. I’d be brought to a place where I had never been to before. We would talk about a million things.
In 2015, we were obsessed with the AlDub phenomenon. You didn’t stop talking about it. I was a diehard fan, and so were you. You magnified every detail of Alden’s and Maine’s lives, weaving the pieces that would ultimately be the nation’s favorite local fairy tale. When I heard that your main story was on them, I quickly grabbed you as if I were The Flash. And when the stapler that bound you loosened, I pasted you back tight using scotch tape, just to preserve and protect you.
On another occasion, we discussed the year 2017—a year defined by the reckoning that sexual harassers met around the world. You labeled sexual harassment accusers and protesters as “Person of the Year.” I read you from cover to cover. You gave me insights on how sexual harassers should be held accountable for their actions.
Oh, how wonderful it is to recall our memories.
Now, our relationship has reached a breaking point. Will this be the end of our seven-year relationship? I want to hold on. But how about you?
We’re facing huge obstacles in our journey. Some in my family despise you because you’re unimportant to them. And some in your own family now doubt you because you’re slipping away from relevance. Even before the pandemic, your fortunes had begun to reverse. The number of people who support you has become abysmal. It seems that many are beginning to move on from you.
Like any other relationship, we’ll just have to figure out where the wind will bring us. We will now be sailing through uncharted waters. If the next few years will be calamitous, I guess we’ll just have to hold our hands together and pray to God that the worst won’t tear us apart.
I promise I’ll be here in times of your pain and struggle. I’ll do my best to see and hold you at every chance. No pandemic will ever hold back my love for you.
For better or for worse, I’ll be here. For richer or for poorer, I’ll be here. In sickness and in health, I’ll be here.
I will love and cherish you, ‘til death do us part.
Love,
Edj
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Eduelle Jan T. Macababbad, 17, is a freshman college student living in Taytay, Rizal.
Visit inqyoungblood.com.ph
