immediate reactions

My eyes hurt from bleeding so much tears. I honestly look half-dead since he left. I can still smile, but, yes. It hurts. It’s just that I really don’t like being left behind. He said I’m emotional. I didn’t see any reason for that behavior. It was stupid and reckless as mick would have put it. I cry and I admit it. I want to escape to the unknown and leave behind everything that’s hurting me. Including him… probably.

It’s no use. I can’t even get rid of myself, not hat I’m trying really hard. Of course, I have options left. But it’s only to let go or deal with it. I still have a week left to change my mind. I don’t want to deal with another heartbreak or unanswered phone calls. Probably, he never really cared like I thought he would. It’s hard to keep on believing that he still loves me. Maybe it’s just half-true.

I don’t expect him to care so much anyway. It would probably be useless - immature… I would be indifferent and probably, I would never understand. I just want things to end, the hurts to go away, and the tears to stop falling.

I hate it when he says he loves me but I couldn’t feel it. It would never be the same way again. Is there any other reason for me to hold on?

Sometimes, you just can’t find the right words to say when the person on the other line starts sobbing and sniffing. hearing someone cry makes me hurt. It’s probably because I’m much of a crybaby. I relate to most people a lot. And yeah, it does hurt.

Times like these make me want to rush to some place else where a big, huggable pillow and a really comfortable blanket is waiting for me. In other words, my bed. I admit, I cry a lot. It helps ease the pain… and maybe, the loneliness too.

I don’t really cry for myself. It’s sometimes for others who tend to freak out especially if they’ve done something really dangerous. I cry for broken people who can’t fix themselves, for scholars who doesn’t seem to understand time management, for pre-occupied and really pitiful individuals. I’m probably one of them, anyway.

I’m not so sure if I really understand them. It’s just that I know because I’ve been that way one time or another. I don’t elly care what happens after. Usually, people smart up, but mostly, they just give up - like me.

It’s just hard to go on. I once hoped it won’t end. Now, dementors are sucking the happiness out of me. That’s just it with life. You don’t always get what you want.

Well, I’m not really talking about immortality. That case doesn’t really apply to mortals like me which are typically “intoxicated”.

I’ve been thinking of death more than just a few times this week. No, not the suicide thing like wrist cuts and loops dangling from a nail peg in the ceiling. It’s probably more like being alive yet cold and indifferent to the world.

I may feel that way right now - completely dazed. My mind was wandering back to the beach moments when he would just sit beside me on the dock…silent. Yet listening. It’s not like I expected things to turn around just so I would find myself sitting beside him, holding his hand. I’m not much of a romantic. I can’t even probably call it love.

My eyes are still clouded with tears after the reality hit me. He had changed. My face burns at that actual thought that I had been careless enough to not notice the gaps as we went on. I’m drifting farther and farther away from him because I had allowed it.

If this is supposed to be death, then I’m leading myself down into it. I’m not happy. Is this the feeling of being intoxicated? Like you don’t care what comes out of your thoughts and your words? Like you don’t want to put yourselves in situations that would lick you entirely to let people know what you’re really made of? Like showing them you’re too weak to fight on?

death just comes.

Maybe, not like the way you expected it to be, but it’s there. It’s coming. Reality struck me. I had to leave the only angel I had truly loved to go on with my passions.

The passions must really be intoxicating me. Either way, I had to choose. Should I, or should I not let go?

This makes no sense. I should stop right here.

 

True Love can be in actions instead of words

 

By Ma. Glaiza Lee

(Manila Bulletin, November 28, 2008)

 

“How long have we been friends?”

 

That question broke the silence. He had been sitting in the sofa for the past hour or so. I couldn’t see him, but I felt his presence. I don’t know why or how, but I just knew when he was around.

 

He had not made any sound because he knew that it was forbidden to make any noise when I’m reading a book, especially now that I’m just learning how to read in Braille.

 

I am partially blind. My blindness wasn’t congenital. It was cause by an accident almost two years ago. My family and I were on our way to Baguio when a delivery truck hit our vehicle. The truck driver was drunk and he lost control of the steering wheel.

 

Splinters from the window shield pierced my eyes and damaged the cornea. We consulted several doctors, and they recommended a cornea transplant. Just a few days ago, we received some good news. My doctor found a donor whose eyes perfectly matched mine, and the operation was scheduled a week from now.

 

I turned my head to where Daniel was sitting. “What’s wrong with you? Lately, you’re becoming very mushy,” I joked.

 

I’d noticed it, but didn’t pay much attention. I was busy with school and the coming holidays. But, Daniel wasn’t himself these past few days. His voice was not its usual cheerful tone. He sounded exhausted.

 

These past weeks, he failed to fetch me after my classes ended, which was really unusual. Ever since we became friends, he hadn’t missed a day. We were friends ever since “we were conceived” as our parents put it.

 

I didn’t see it, but I knew he smiled at my joke. He sat beside me, and I felt him look me in the eyes as if I would be able to see his face.

 

“Elisha, if there will be a time when I won’t be there for you… it isn’t my intention,” he whispered. With a quizzical look, I ask him why he was telling me these things, but he didn’t answer and just hugged me tight.

 

***

 

A few days before Christmas, I was lying on the hospital bed, dressed in a hospital gown and getting psyched up for the operation.  I had waited for this time, but I was so scared. My family and I were hoping the operation would go smoothly.

“I can’t wait to see your face again,” I told Daniel who was sitting by my bedside, holding my hand. Sometimes, he would squeeze it as if telling me that everything would be all right. He took my right hand, and brushed his lips on it.

 

“I can’t wait for you to see the world as I see it,” he whispered in my ears and dropped a kiss on my forehead before I was whisked to the operating room.

 

It had been a week since the operation. I was able to see again, all the colors, lights, shapes, and everything around me. It was like leaving the darkness which has enveloped me the past two years, and finally dwelling in the light again.

 

It was Christmas. Strangely, Daniel wasn’t around when I first opened my eyes after the operation. I asked my parents, even called his house, asking if they knew where he was. But they couldn’t give me a straight answer.

 

I couldn’t wait to see Daniel. Maybe, he was just preparing a surprise for me. It was typical of him to do that, I thought. And I couldn’t wait to see what it was.

 

When the doorbell rang, I was ecstatic. I was pretty sure it would be Daniel and his family. I kissed Daniel’s parents as they entered. I looked behind them to see Daniel, but he wasn’t with them.

 

I peeped outside the gate, maybe he was just around somewhere. But no, he was nowhere. I looked at his parents who were standing beside my parents at the patio. Why did it seem there was sadness in their eyes?

 

Before I could open my mouth to ask them where Daniel was, his mother handed me a gift wrapped in silver paper with a red ribbon. When I opened it, it revealed the cashmere dress I’d always wanted. Only Daniel knew about it.

 

A card fell when I pulled the dress from the box. My name was scribbled on the envelope. I knew that handwriting. It was Daniel’s.

 

“Dear Elisha,” the letter began. “If you are reading this, then I will be very happy because it means the operation was successful. I just wish I was there to witness it, and share that special moment with you. But I won’t be there. Not because I don’t want to, but because fate won’t permit it.

 

“Remember that summer we spent in Baguio? You looked very lovely in that pink dress and yet you were crying because you couldn’t go out and play in the rain. It pained me to see you crying so I did everything to stop you from crying and wipe the tears away. I promised from that day I would do everything to make you happy. I would protect you and shield you. No one and nothing would hurt you, if I could help it.

 

“We’ve known each other since we were born. And you’re my best friend. We’ve shared everything and anything. My days are not complete without seeing you. I’m always anticipating those cute smiles and I love hearing those hearty laughs. They brighten up my days. I always wanted to be the one to put those smiles on your face and be the reason why you laugh.

 

“Yes, Elisha, I’ve been in love with you since that summer…” Tears started to fall. I didn’t know. I have no idea. How could I not notice it?

 

Don’t blame yourself. I did everything to keep it a secret. Don’t get mad. I know we promised that we shouldn’t keep any secrets from each other. I’m afraid of rejection and that you might not feel the same way and soon, I would lose even our friendship. I couldn’t take that so I kept it.

 

“This was hard for me, not to be there to share the milestones of your life, hold you when you’re afraid and pick you up when you stumble. But my time is up. I can’t stay much longer, even if I want to.

 

“Three years ago, I was diagnosed with brain cancer. It was already on its final stage. The doctors couldn’t do anything. They gave me just a year to live. I lasted for another year because of you. The thought that I would leave you alone strengthened my will to survive, if not prolong my days.

 

But he was already calling me. He had given me much more than I hoped for. It’s time I go back to him, and stay with Him. This is not goodbye. This is just a temporary separation. We’ll see each other again… in another time and place. Take care of my eyes. I’m sure they look lovely on you… Love, Daniel.”

 ***

It’s just one of those stories which really touched me. I hope you liked reading it though it’s quite long… tc!

What was I thinking?

I’ve never wished for this. I mean, I could have been something else but a teacher. 3 years in college haven’t taught me enough. I kept staring at the yellowing manila paper thinking about the decisions I made. It’s probably too late to shift now. If I do it, where would I end up? I’ve never really had plans… big plans… I just wanted to see the world, sleep outside a cottage by the bay, watch fireflies in the evening, count stars…

I’m a dreamer and I admit that. Teaching? Well, I hope it’s really for me. I just can’t waste 3 years of tuition fee and school expenses just because I want to quit. But, I’m tired… Probably, I’d just go back to sleep. Then probably, I’d have big dreams after.