The past week was both peaceful and erratic.

And I guess I would be expecting the same pattern to occur in the coming weeks. Things I thought would be serene for me for I have chosen to dwell in the silence of my thoughts than to welcome any more of your threatening presence.

In layman’s term, my life was pretty much normal and boring so to speak for the last week. Except for a few deviations in my usual routine that would include a brief encounter which would eventually led me back to my melancholic state. And at that moment, the sand castle I’ve been patiently shaping with my bare hands, that is my life, went crumbling down to my feet much to my horror. Just like a snap of your fingers, it was all gone. And here I am looking more dejected as usual than the time you left me sprawled in the floor with all your seemingly harmless confessions.

Now I ask myself, can I possibly go on each day, ignoring the pain that is crippling me inch by inch when just a slight trigger of your memory could paralyze and kill the remaining sanity I have within me? My friends told me to move on. But to hell with those words. Moving on. Such an overly-used phrase (or advice) from friends who probably ran out of things to say to comfort and cheer a friend who is obviously in shambles. But for someone who is consoling in pain and self-pity, moving on is not an option. For a dejected, rejected and pathetically broken-hearted chick like me, a part of me is still foolishly hoping for better things to come my way. Better things meaning my own description of a near-perfect dream where everything is legal, right and acceptable. Where unconventional things become ordinary to everyone’s senses. And where fear hibernates only to the deepest of the unconscious minds and is only exclusive once a threatening loss becomes imminent to the other. But I know I’m going way too far than what reality feeds me now. You’re pulling me back, shaking me off from a deep trance and slapping me as hard as you could with your innocent presence that is an unspoken reminder that this is all we could ever be. Nothing more, nothing less. I should have known that ages ago. And so, look at me now. I’m a terrible mess. Reminds me that I should never brushed up with love again for it could be very treacherous especially if blended with emotions. It has become inflammable. But well, I’m not exactly in good terms with my Chemistry subject, you know. The more I try to simmer down the brew, the intense this madness has become. I just couldn’t think of any more antidote to this sweet poison that is slowly consuming every inch of a soul in me. This sweet poison, ironically as it seems, is the source of my oxygen, the physical make-up that amazingly and automatically send my lips into a flickering smile and the beautiful lyrics that put life into my heart’s million beats of melody. Now tell me, how could I not resist a little pain and suffering from this madness in exchange for this blissful moment?
I just want to break free. To inhale freedom and exhale it with my dignity still intact. If only I could accept my inner flaws then maybe you could finally see me. The real me. Behind all this disguise. I could not go on forever like this in a day, making lame excuses just to evade the truth, covering up a mask to conceal the tears brimming in my eyes, pretending to be invincible by laughing off sad songs and playing along with my friend’s 20 questions and relentless curiosity over the apparent tragic demise of my heart. It’s funny how all of these is happening to me right now.
And all I ever did was to follow the beats of my heart.
What could have possibly gone wrong?

Is it too late for me now?
Am I going to suffer the words I left unspoken from my mouth and slowly watch you flee with the rest of the world?
Or am I ready to risk more than what it takes for a shot at happiness and peace of mind that will eventually last a lifetime?
It’s my call.
But like right now,
It’s all written in silence.

 

December 31st, 2008 by pissedoffchick Marie Joyce B. Negapatan is a proud alumnae of Far Eastern University Institute of Nursing Batch 2008 who aspires to become a psychiatric nurse someday. She is a registered nurse and a frustrated writer who spends most of her time writing poems and sentimental thoughts in her personal blog using her pen name "The Pissedoffchick".