The Free Verse

"Good morning classmates. I am Marcus, an exchange student from the Philippines. I am 19 years old, majoring in Creative Writing. I hope to spend the semester with fun and learnings with you. Thank you!"

I can feel the tension building on my knees. Good thing I finally finished introducing myself in front of the class; I can just walk my nervousness away.

Their clap conceals the awkward rhythm of my breathing, and I thank God for helping me fake my confidence. The room is filled with Koreans who must be all in the faculty of English. Only few of them seem to be glad I am here because only a few of them smiled at me as I struggled to walk normally to the last seat of the room. I don't know I should feel ostracized but knowing that I am the only one seating at the last row makes me feel unwelcomed in the class.

"Thank you Marcus for that wonderful introduction. We look forward to studying with you in this class." The voice of Mr. Hwang is warm, but it sounded insincere at some point. The shift of attention is fast when the door suddenly swings open into a near crash!

I expected a clumsy person to spring behind the door, but the sudden revelation shows a tall, muscular, and tanned guy who must have opened the door with his foot rather than with his hand. He bows to the professor before continuing to walk towards me. Towards me?!! A rush of adrenaline kind of brought me back to my senses. Although his entrance is noticeable and grand, I forced myself to keep my eyes on the floor until he passes by my place.

I count down to keep myself put together. I know in few seconds, he will be gone. The throb of my heart demands to be felt as my chest pumps slowly but loudly.

Three.

I can see his shadow approaching the aisle.

Two.

His sneakers are neatly white, and so is the skin of his ankles left uncovered by his tight jeans.

One.

I close my eyes to savor the relief of having succeeded. I release a ton of air to unload the heaviness on my chest. I endeavor to make it discreet as possible, and right after the air release, I sniff the same amount back into my nostrils.

I unleash a smile as I open both of my eyes to transport me back to reality. But the figure that I witness is not the one that I expect.

His right arm looks hard and intensively muscular. The veins that sit under his skin are embossed and that mere view assures how much muscle he has underneath that shirt. No matter how I try to stop myself from ignoring the current situation, the tension is just heavily unbearable especially when all my new classmates start to look towards our direction.

I raise my sight to meet his eyes. The dark lashes that border the shape of his eyes make his stare intense but not rude. His eyes are deeply dark and the white part of his eyes balls makes it even like jet black.

He gestures his right hand again to show me he is handing me something. The jerk in is hand puts me back to reality, and it must have taken me more than 10 seconds to wake up from my delusion.

"I don't have the whole day to hold this for you." His voice just seems to shake the hell out of me. Now, it is clear that he is standing there because of me, and I need to make sense why.

His eyes shift from mine to his hand. It is a plastic card that appears to be a dormitory card. As soon as I grab the card from his hand, he spils the details in a swift.

"The room is 408. Fourth floor. New Men's Dormitory near the rear gate of the university." Then he walks away to the back seat opposite to where I am.

The happening is very quick that I barely comprehend it at all. My classmates start mumbling things with their seatmate. They are obviously about me or that guy, and what just happened between us, as evidently seen in the way they glance at every time they say something.

The instructor clears his throat. At that same time, the whole class brings out a piece of paper for the first writing activity of the semester.

"In 5 minutes, you are to write a free verse that will reveal to us a portion of yourself that you want us to know about. After which, I will call names to read their outputs in front. 5 minutes starts now."

In the first few minutes of that time, I wonder what part of me I am ready to reveal to these people. Culturally, we are different, but that difference does not guarantee that they will appreciate the uniqueness I possess. Should I talk about the goals I brought with me to coming to this foreign land? Should I write about the ethnic beauty that runs through my veins? Or should I poetically explain about my gender? That I am not specifically attracted to a certain gender of a person? That my heart throbs for a person who has an enchanting personality and amazing kind of intelligence? And if I were to uncover that, will I be ready to face the consequences? Will I be accepted?

And with only a minute left to write, I opted to free myself because I know it is the only way I can be at my best.