Mess

I don’t think I have a personality. I just reflect the personality of people I choose to surround myself with. And even though I resonate these, I’m still a bad copy-cat.

If overthinking and anxiety is a personality, then I’m already wearing it to the bones. Engraved in every neurons and hormones in me as I surf through waves of blissfulness and feeling of impending doom. Iced with social awkwardness on top which is inversely proportioned with my confidence, I hope people would have the idea on how my soft attributes would by synonymous to a walking disaster.

But I’m learning to love myself. A bit late than the usual and much later than what your self-help books would suggest. I’m accepting more parts of me that I thought I can never accept. Like how my dreams reflected my anxieties and fears, and thinking how they could be used to gamble a win in a lottery. Or how I get through days of overthinking knowing that there will always a day after where I would have pure peace and mental serenity.

Now these may seem to be self-centered and sound oblivious to those people around me, but I have come to terms that self-healing is indeed a selfish act. And you need to heal yourself first and be whole before giving yourself to others. It’s okay to be selfish before becoming selfless. Or else you’ll be left with crumbs of your non-existent personality and fragments of your broken self.

Epilogue

We have given up the things we thought that matters to us. Now we’re left with empty words and broken thoughts of what could’ve been if both of us aren’t too shy, prideful, nor coward to say what we needed to say. We’ve let our own ego destroy what’s best to us by stealing away the thing we’re both good at: expression. 

We have (or I did) raised questions (to myself) with answers that I know I couldn’t formulate on my own. I have let them imprison and bind me from pushing forward for the thing I would not (or would I?) regret later on. Sure that those differences and incompatibilities are nothing compared to what I believed we’ve reached simply by talking. And we haven’t even made much “deeper” connections yet.

But I guess it’s too late to think about it all now. Despite of all the things we wanted to say, despite our urge to speak out, despite our desire to be heard, we ended everything in an absurd way: in silence.

Visions of the Past

It was your decision to call it quits during the second week of the advent. You reasoned out that the infidelity you’ve made was just because of a previous act, which may I remind you, a baseless allegations coming from your part.

It was a conscious act of flirting, hooking up and seduction in which you fueled by rage and false assumptions. You did it without hesitation and reluctance despite knowing such would mean a slap on my face. You did it because you thought that such would be the best reciprocate of the disloyalty you believed I did.

And here you are in front of me standing proud with your claims and your crooked reasoning that never even gave justice to what you’ve done. And you have caught the perfect moment to strike me back while I was unstable and been hitting rock bottom for few weeks now.

To tell you honestly, it wasn’t your unfaithfulness that caused me pain. It wasn’t your allegations that made my heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t your doubtless declaration of a sinister act that made me step back. It was your outward motive of revenge that made me broken to pieces just because of your inability to trust. A revenge directed towards a heart I thought you’ve loved and cared so much. A heart which never ceased to love you.

“If you want to break up now, might as well do it while I’m depressed. Pagod na ako..”

Anamnesis

I remember those nights when we never cared for the next sunset. As if the only full moon of the month is our last. We drove around to open night breeze inching towards the fancy restos and antique shops along the road away from your crib. I looked at you and how you’re rockin’ your bedside hair that speaks ‘ain’t giving a fuck’. You smile at me back treacherously as your scent imprints and lingers on my dreams that night. Yes, I never told you, but I’m digging it all.

I remember how you wanted me so bad in your bed and still let me do what I want. The way your body responds to every touch, to every whisper, to every kiss thrills me within and sends me to euphoria. You have given me the freedom and the same liberty I admit I denied to you when I refuse to consider the truth. It was those nights where I believe that I did own you, and I submitted myself to be owned. That you were my fortress. My shield. My strength. But all of it came to rust once doubt from my heart spread out across my body. An every inch of me questions everything about you.

And sunrise came, I had to go. I woke up with swollen muscles, doubting thoughts and crushed morals. The exhaustion seeps in despite a restful night followed by the question of “what have I been doing?” And “what do I really want.”

I may not like what I’ve been doing. I may had struggled before. But I like you for sure. 

And tonight, maybe I’m just tired. And I’m missing you. 

But I don’t want you back.

Chess

There’s the person who “just loved” and the other who “just loved and got hurt.”

You celebrated a year of blessed love. Of genuine trust, honesty and selflessness. Of compromises and sacrifices. And you’ve proven that the love you both had was built on the strongest element to withstand decay and other variable forces outside your own. 

As years go by, the love was undaunted. It stood firm with silver coating and pride as both of you reach for the dreams you aimed in the beginning. But as inevitable as it seem, people change. Whether you like it or not. You get tired and exhausted. You hang on to him like a fortress in which you gather all the strength you need for days to come. 

Then the other one will soon get tired too and manages to do the same thing to you. You cling on each other’s arm; hoping that love would withstand the inner turmoil you both had.

And you, being the perfectionist, the smart one, the self-proclaimed good would not wait and watch the flow of things. You will aim for something different. Something new to freshen up the existing struggle that both of you have been going through. 

You’ll ask for space because you think that such would be the best option that you had, rather than exhausting each other’s strength and patience each night of fighting before going to bed. But you bear inside the love that still exist for your better half. Believing and conditioning your mind that you’re doing this for the sake of both of you.

While the other one, who’s love never dwindled, allowed you to do what you wanted to do. Simply because he loves you. And he trust your decisions and aimed for your happiness more than his own.

And you hold such love and thought in you, and let your wings spread through the vast landscape of freedom that you never thought existed. Soon enough, you soar through higher flight as you see him whole-heartedly  waiting for you to come back and at the same time, supporting you and your decisions. 

But man’s contentment ain’t easy to be filled. 

You still find something lacking. And you seek other free souls for guidance and they’ll be obliged to teach you what you haven’t learned. A bond would soon form, considering the circumstances and the distance present in your condition. 

You fall in love. 

To the one you believe who’s been teaching you how to live your life, who’s been there to guide your every step, who’s been there when tears fall. 

But you, being the perfectionist, the smart one, the self-proclaimed good, knows that you must choose between the two. 

But the guy who’s been waiting ever since, knows the struggle you’ve been going through. And because of the selfless, unconditional love he still had for you, he will give you the freedom you’ve been yearning ever since, for you to find your momentum of flight back. For you to reach your dreams that you believe, too hard to reach with him. 

Now, you may reason out that you just followed your heart and fell in love to someone new. And you can say that you can’t teach your heart. That it can transmit a force too strong to break. As you go along, you heal your ego with a believe that you just did and acted upon what you believe is right.

But. You shouldn’t forget that there’s someone who hold on because of love.

In the end, he got hurt.

La Vie

I know I had a life different than yours. A lifestyle chosen by few, but sustained by some. You sleep early during weekdays, while I work at night. You go out during weekends with your friends as I try to sleep early by moonsight. You celebrate long weekends on the road somewhere unknown while I count the days before I spend my single rest day with you.

Trust me, I appreciate your compromise for the sake of this to work out. But I’m letting you enjoy your life outside the mess we’re about to make. I’m giving you the freedom to do what you want to do, and let you mingle with some of the superficially fake friends and genuine people that you have. I wanted you to sin as early as now and learn the importance of forgiveness while the tension is still too strong for us to drop out. Knowing that I was never a fan of second chances, forgiving would still be easier on my part.

I wanted you to live your life separate from me in order for you to realize things that you do not realize when we are together. That the best lessons are made by experiences and mistakes, of fake people and shitty situations. Of out-of-hand accidents and things beyond your control. I wanted you not to forget the life you had before me and learn how to merge the two without compromising the way you fully wanted to live your days.

And when you are tired and the party is over, when you get beaten up by daily challenges and people I despise made you feel worthless; come back to me.

And I will make you feel home.

Name

“What’s your name?”, you asked me one time when our glances caught each other on the night of the great ball.

“My name is just a word used to identify but not solely define my identity.”, I answered. 

With a smile in your face, you asked “who are you then?”

“I am the shadow in the dark;

With a fading light within. 

Rejected by the devils;

But neither is a saint.

I am the flower on the wall;

Left alone to watch.

Blood-stained petals

Quickly withers in a touch.

I am the last bird during the sunset.

The white crayon in the deck.

Misused. Forgotten without regret

I’d rather leave than connect

I am the mystery left unsolved.

The criminal with no conscience to hold.

The murder which time had dissolved.

The victim left beaten. Dead. Cold.

Who am I? I am someone you just recently met. And soon you’ll just forget. 

Hike

It was a damp afternoon. The gray skies seemed to cry as it succumb the pain that radiates from the earth. Raindrops trinkle on the grass standing a meter high beside the trail we are taking. The softened earth comforts our ground yet challenges our every step as our hike gradually reaches a higher ground. 

We’ve been on this trail for almost an hour now. And you’ve stopped talking as the light rain masks your tears, while the thunderstorms hide your cries of pain from a relationship that just ended. 

And my thoughts wander how near you are to me yet too far for my reach. And even if I’m able to grasp you, you would just slip past through the gaps of my fingers. Just like the water dripping on the leaves of the trees. They would come in contact, but soon must let go. We always have that tendency; to choose the one who’ll break us. While the one loving us is tearing apart. 

Sunrays slipped through the open sky as we reached the summit. It glitters the landscape drenched by the rain; the leaves, the rocks, the trees. It shines through your glistened eyes as you manage to give a fake smile.

“What a beauty.”, you said. 

“Beautiful indeed.”, I replied as I look into your direction. 

“We’re here, but you seemed not happy. Smile a little.” You said as we settled down on a piece of dry earth.

“We are on a same boat. It’s just that, you can force a fake smile. And I can’t.”, I mumbled.

An awkward silence occupied the air surrounding us.

“I know how you feel. And I’m sorry..”

I felt the sincerity in your voice. Its sweetness and honesty. The reasons why I fell..

“I feel sorry too..”, I snapped back. “If only we could let these feelings go easy.”

You stood up and reached for my hand. 

“It’s time. Let’s be free..” 

Your eyes pierced through me and numbed me within. I reached for your hand and feel the warmth for the first time since we started this journey together. The burden inside me lightens and I found myself standing beside you looking at the vast green landscape. 

Your hand tightens up in mine as I firm my grip fearing that I might lose you as we take a step towards uncertainty.

We’ve escaped the romantic tragedy that love has set for us. And for the first time together..

We are free.

The Dinner

The dinner was perfect. You’ve set the perfect ambience across the room; lime light on the walls adjusted so that it doesn’t overpower the motif you created yourself. With the table covered with warm thick cloth embroidered with victorian details you’ve said that were bought outside the country. At the center of the long table sits a bouquet of wild flowers and blueberries. With plates almost perfectly aligned with the silverwares that you do not even use.

But today was special day.

I stare at my eyes reflecting on the candelabras in front of me. Dark. Hollow. Staring back to me. I can see myself on the glistening wine glass, and my pale face on the steak knife on my right. I looked dismantled, fairly disheveled, with the stink of liquor under my breathe that I’ve been keeping from you. 

You served me a plate of spaghetti. My favorite. I looked at you as you take your seat at the opposite side of mine. Your eyes locked on me with your beautiful smile unhidden between your ears. As if you already know that you’ve outdone yourself this time with all the efforts you’ve made. And you did. 

My face were too tired to smile back. To tired to express any emotions at all. Apathetic. Eyes are dead. With a tear falling down on my right eye to my cheek. I remain silent, staring pass through everything. 

In a few seconds, you came beside me. Hugged me tight with your chest pressed against my dry cheek. You never said a thing. 

You just craddled me in your arms with your eyes closed as the blood started to flow out from the stabbed wound I made with the steak knife on your left chest. The table cloth now splattered with your blood, and the spaghetti that now would sure taste like iron. I never heard any grunt or pain. You just fell down on the floor with your arms slowly leaving my body. 

I had you now in my arms with your last few breathes. You look at me with your smile not leaving your face. 

“I won’t ask. But I understand. I love you.”

It was your last words you mumbled that made tears run down slowly on my face. The floor was now filled with my tears, with your blood, and with the blood from my throat that I slashed with the same steak knife. 

The dinner was perfect. With our eyes dead, locked, staring at each other while lying on the floor. 

Memoriam

I’m tired of writing the same things. Of glimpses of the past. Of memories burried but barely hidden. I’m tired of the same scenarios. 

Of me sitting on one of your bean bags, staring the star-less night sky outside the window of your sanctuary. Of me waiting for the alcohol-spiked drink you made, and drink it whole heartedly as if I didn’t knew it was spiked with vodka or rum. For I needed the courage to do what I have been wanting to do but too afraid to even had my skin pressed against yours.

I’m tired of the remembering the feeling when you kissed me and I was caught off guard; almost dropping the liquor on the carpeted floor of your room. Those kisses that brought me to your bed covered in monochromatic sheets. The hugs I gave that made you feel safe. The sound of your warm breathing on my chest. Sweat dripping on your back. Your moans of desire to have more. 

I can easily remember everything. And me ruining everything in a glimpse of immaturity due to insecurity and misbehavior I displayed.

But everything’s different now. We are not the same person as we were before. We are acting out what we believe is right and just on the circumstances we placed ourselves into. Our priorities have already shifted and we take a different but parallel path with no idea whether it would still find a way to cross in the future. 

Amongst all things, there’s still one that remains the same:

I still cannot forget.