A Sentiment of Voices

I hate to admit it, but indeed, I am born to hold her in my arms. It’s that unfathomable fire, a creature so impossible to tame, a destined feeling that runs in my blood; whatever it is, it clearly tells how and why it captivated my soul into her ethereal beauty. It’s the passion – a feeling so wild and intense – that burns within that made me into someone who cannot survive without her voice. It has been there since I first held her hand, and the way I felt after, and the way how her hand fits mine. I cannot really define how prophetic the magnitude was since my maiden moment of embracing her; it was very much beyond proportions. The epiphany was intense, yet serene in an unexplainable manner. Perhaps I have been exaggerating myself, or perhaps I could’ve stated it using the simplest of words, but I have known how exaggeration alone can explain the wildest things, and that such things cannot be described by words alone. It is worth more than that, or perhaps it is of no worth at all.

But our fateful meeting was one unexpected punch, or shall I say, something that came out of nowhere. It occurred in the most unlikely of places - one might even think as a place common to all, or even a living pandemonium. The day had long passed my memory, but in one way, I can still recall clearly the events that led me to love her uncontrollably.

Someone once said, "Loving two individuals the very same way as you love the other is possible." Someone asked him how.

Five years ago, my hunger for love and its mellifluous melody started to grow insatiable. It was a feeling that was once dormant but had turned to something that deviated within my young but mature heart. I’d been distracted in so many things because of this hunger - a hunger that seemed to last forever unless something would finally satisfy its desires. The unfortunate part was that neither no one nor nothing dared to. Time passed by as it grew immensely. It surpassed my emotional boundaries as well, turning to something I described as a sweet, fiery sensation. Yes. I admit, I have always wanted something new, something exciting, and perhaps this untitled entity that had been growing within me could be the answer. I wanted the way I felt in those days. But it wasn’t always easy to go with its flow. The disturbance it brought with itself made me restless and often irritable, and though these things were perhaps its side effects, in one unique way, it had changed my ever-lowly character. Nevertheless, I knew I somehow needed to partake something; the problem was that I didn’t know what it was.

Despite these things, I somehow managed to keep it to myself, and to the one I already pledged my loyalty to. Yes, I was with another the time I felt these emotions (“Ohhhh… Now I see the catch,” you tell yourself silently), and hiding the contradicting feelings I had wasn’t only a difficult thing, it turned out to also cause an unpleasant hassle every time I and my lover met. Perhaps, now you see the entire picture of the scenery, its setting, the situations involved or, if you’re that good in predicting things, the plot of the entire story. Believe me, it’s too cliché.

It was midsummer, and although school was out, my schedule still stood hectic because of our everyday meetings. I wasn’t obliged to be with her everyday, and even she, herself, didn’t want it that way. We were neither required nor forced to. But the fact that we, two, had a commitment to each other made us into two beings who were reliant on one’s presence. And yes, I do love her –did love her, and I knew she felt the same. It was a willing response that interchanged between the two of us. We were connected by a vow, by affinity, and in so many things I cannot describe. I didn’t want to end our relationship just because of my psychological deficiency, and doing so was literally suicide. I was dependent to her beauty and to her presence, and she needed me more. Knowing that I was in a feeble state, I told her that whatever happens, I would never abandon her; but perhaps the only reason why I uttered those words was because I wanted to establish a foundation in me for the sake of fidelity, and perhaps to keep myself away from any distraction or any sort of temptation to love another, yet I knew deep within that I was only deceiving myself. “It won’t be long before someone finds out you’re a vulnerable target,” my conscience whispered with a hoarse, deep voice.

I thought I wasn't prone to such things, I thought I could get over it easily, but it turns out, I was wrong...

I sat in our couch one late afternoon. Like any other day of the week, it was commonly full of my childish frolics and daily routines. I was at our residence with one of my older cousins who stayed once in a while to watch my little sister and her naughty brother (in case you’re wondering, I’m referring to myself) whenever my parents were out of town. And damn, boredom was in every corner; it was an amalgam of accompaniments of the ever-monotonous sounds of nature and the searing heat of the sun, and in no time, it turned the day from radiant to grey. “Kulang na lang lumutin tayo dito, Ate!” I told my elder company. Worse, the power had gone off suddenly. It was a deadly one-two-three punch of exhaustion, power failure and cacophony; you could just imagine the look of our faces in that instance.

I lied in my room, with so much time to spare - all wasted because of delirium. Running off with no options, I decided to leave the house and go somewhere else. Instantly, I hastily packed some food in my pocket and changed my clothes to suit the heat. After which, I was ready to set off. But just as I was about to leave, someone unconsciously caught my eye. It was a sudden, unnerving occurrence.

There, seating in our living room, was a stranger. But it was no ordinary stranger. She was undeniably voluptuous and beautiful, evident in both her appearance and her mystifying aura. The strands of her hair fell perfectly from her neck to her body, her figure was slender and flawless, and by the time I heard her voice said ‘hi’ tenderly, it immediately caught me, without any sort of delay. It sounded so angelic and soothing, yet complex in a way only the wisest can only understand. And in that moment, I somehow forgot that she was someone I do not know, in fact, I literally forgot everything. I was drawn to her without a cause. It seemed like I knew her and saw her long before. I bounced back from my reminiscence and turned to my cousin who was busy preparing our snacks.

“Who is she?” I asked trying to hide any clue of admiration in my voice. “Oh, a friend brought her here. She’ll be temporarily staying in our place ‘til he’s not around,” she answered.

“Who’s ‘he’?” I questioned puzzled,

“My friend! Ugh!”

“Ohh… I see…”

I and my cousin babbled for a while before going off in separate ways in our house. After a short pause, I changed my mind and decided to stay since the electricity had returned and for some other reasons as well. I looked back in the living room, she wasn’t there, “Maybe I’m a little sick,” I told myself. Looking outside the window, I saw people pacing towards the resort to escape the heat; I was too lazy to walk another step that time. I went inside my room and lied quietly in my bed, and, for some reason, fell asleep soundly. Deeply, I was still thinking of the stranger I saw earlier. “Will she be the reason for my downfall?”

Every event that had happened before led in the molding of my present character. I was neither prepared for it nor expected something would draw the line between who I am and who I was; and yet, I still couldn’t comprehend why the littlest of things can do so much interference, so much change. I was deeply in love with so many things; I had to settle for something and identify which are the things I want and the things I needed most. Despite my contemplations, it still leads and ends in two things: trust and loyalty.

The sun, in its erratic presence, stood low in the sky as the breeze brushed gently against the curtains of the windows of my bedroom. I was awakened by the creaking sound of doors as people started to prepare for the evening in our house. Half-asleep, I subconsciously thrust myself up and stretch some muscles to keep myself from going back to bed. What I hadn’t realized was that I had a visitor with me.

Beside the other bed, the stranger, whom I met earlier that day, lied in the cushion soundly. I was in a state of awe and wonder as I stared at her sharply but with respect. She looked at me without uttering a word, and without hesitation, I immediately sat next to her and began introducing myself. After all the words I’ve said, she still seemed to linger in silence, like she’s mute or something. I didn’t understand why. In disappointment, I murmured silently and quietly walked away from her presence, thinking she wasn't interested or perhaps she had no idea what was going on. But as I was about to stand up, she gravely looked at me, it was a cold response only brightened by the glimmer of her hair. I was confused, or somewhat puzzled, like she wanted me to stay. I slowly went nearer to her, and, without warning, she wildly pulled me closer and touched my hand. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, “What do you feel?” I closed my eyes; in disbelief, I saw and felt things I never felt before in my entire life, it was very much indescribable. I held her closer, touched her hand, and gently brushed her hair as my hand smoothly slid through her neck. And from then on, my whole life changed…

A newborn passion started its way into my soul. Like a furnace, it consumed me entirely; the irony was that, as it continued to burn and feed on my flesh, it made me feel more complete and confident. This other became my inspiration in everything, even in the things related to the one I first loved, where the love that was once eternal started to fade into oblivion. The stranger would not only be the cause of my downfall, but would also take me to a whole new world, as well, to a whole new me. But the truth was hard to face, for I was being torn between two beings I both love, two beings I madly need.

Time passed by as my infidelity played a fair game with me. My own self was divided between the two of them, and neither saw how drastic and imbecile the scenery was. The stranger knew of my situation, but she often would discard the topic every time I’d talk about it; it seems that she wasn’t ready to provide me any solution. But the other one had no idea what was going on. It proves that I had been standing long in perfidiousness and ambiguity. I had broken every vow I had for her, every promise I pledged, and the worse part was that she knew nothing about it. The only thing I could do was to balance both my emotions and time, since they were both special to me, and I couldn’t clearly decide that moment. Decisions were practically a useless matter in those instances. In truth, everything felt worthwhile, like nothing was wrong. But trying to hide the truth is like trying to mix oil with water, it was of no use, it was futile.

In this past occurrence, the clear problem I knew was that both of them, in reality’s realization, were never mine, and perhaps, will never be. They were often with others’ company, which had always made me jealous. It was a feeling of rage, uproar and melancholy every time I would see them with another or each time someone would touch their hands the very same way I would. But I knew I have no right to appear with the real things I felt, since I never once owned them even for a single day. Of course, I was aware that I, myself, was deceiving the two of them because of the distorted situation, but I kept on hoping that someday, all these would be solved. I kept hoping that someday, everything would turn out right, that I could finally stand with pride in my heart not because of my experiences, but because I’ve been able to unveil the truth. But how can I achieve such things if I, myself, am not willing to sacrifice? Pain crouched deeply within me that night.

It was my 13th birthday, and I had been waiting for that day to come. I knew something special would happen that day, even the sky told me the same thing. I stood there with a smile, knowing I have finally entered my youth, that I have finally finished the transition from being a child to a teen. Joy flowed freely in me in those sweet minutes as my parents embraced me, it was more like a sign of recognition. Friends came in to celebrate with the victories I had as a man, presents were everywhere, presents that were more than just material things. As I was enjoying myself it those instances, my dad told me to come with him to town to fetch an unexpected visitor. I was curious, but it seems that I knew what he is up to. He drove slowly but with deep assurance that I would be surprised, I only kept it to myself that I knew his thoughts. In a while, we were there, and though I was right with the assumption I made secretly in my mind, I wasn’t prepared for the real thing.

Yes, she, the stranger, stood there outside our automobile, grinning at me. I assisted her in the back seat of our car as we drove back to home. I looked at her in amazement. She was dressed in her finest, shimmering like a newly cut diamond, flawless in every angle, her hair flowed in perfection down her neck, and her stunning figure captured my eyes. It was wonderland, a glimpse of paradise; it was every man’s dream. But it didn’t end there. I nearly fell unconscious as she whispered the words I’ve been longing to hear since I first met her, “You showed me the love I deserved. From this day forth, you’re mine, and I’ll be forever yours…”

That day ended, though I wished it never would. She was the best gift, the perfect present I desired for; and without a doubt, my desire animated into something that exists in the fabric of reality. The words made me forget all the problems we had, all the misfortunes I encountered, and all the saddest moments I had since I was a child. It was a burst of the happiest feelings, as I woke up and emerge with her hand in mine, as I embraced her tenderly in my arms. I was happy not because she finally answered my call for her love or she learned to love me the way I love her, but it was deeper than that, something I couldn’t explain. I have seen that the fewest of things are more than enough, and with that, I laid with her with a smile painted in my face.

But it was far from over, and indeed not the usual ‘happy-ever-after’, for fate and reality had yet to strike for the last time.

I both expected for the best and for the worst. I was now in the verge of a critical decision, and I knew I cannot forever hide the truth from the one I loved first. She started to notice that I have been meeting with her rarely as weeks go by, sometimes, never in a week; she started to see that I was no longer visiting her that often the way I did before. And the most disturbing part was that, every time I would touch her hands and caressed it the way I always did before, it started to feel that something was different, something changed, something was definitely wrong. I knew she felt the same way. It was a feeling of sympathy, as strangeness roamed in an attempt to show I pity her for my frequent absence. I thought I would be able to tell the truth, but it was harder than I thought.

One night, I decided to visit her in her room. I crawled silently ‘round the terrace, I was alone then with no time to lose. The walls creaked loudly, and the wind blew with strife as I crept slowly in the midst of a dim, moonlighted hallway. The lights were out, it was seven in the evening, and darkness wrapped the place. As I went nearer to the door, I could hear the sound of weeping, the sound of a sadness. I knew it was her. Without dilly-dallying, I twisted the knob stealthily and peeped through the opening. My heart was torn asunder for no reason as I saw her lying in pain and desperation. Anguish seemed to dominate the ambience, and yes, it was unbearable. Seeing her that way, I made myself to unconsciously go nearer to her to show that in some way, I still did care. I embraced her and held her hand for the last time I would ever hold it that way, and from that moment, a tear fell from my eye. She cried silently all the more, but the very voice I heard since I first loved her still remains to be constantly unparalleled.

I knew deep within that that day would come the time I least expect it would. Yes, I can forever hide, but I cannot forever escape Truth’s vengeance. And there we were, in all the tears we both shed for the love that had completely faded because of a stranger, lying as we sang the last song of our hearts, the last song we had for each other. “Why haven’t you told me about this stranger? Why do you have to keep it hidden from me for all this time? I never thought you’d do this. I was wrong with you. Why? Am I not enough for you?” She exclaimed panting from tears. Despite the epiphany, I kept silent and sat without a word; I was thinking of so many things that I wasn’t able to comprehend what she had been saying. The only word that came out from my lips was ‘sorry’ and looked away, trying to escape the look of her face. She had so many questions, and I knew I was wise enough to understand them, and yet, I couldn’t give a single answer. I somehow had the thinking that I was forbidden to talk, and let her mock me for my insolence and untruthfulness. “You broke every promise you had for me,” she finally said, then silence followed after.

It was already late, and I was still there, still reflecting on all the things that came to past. I knew how wrong I was before, I knew I caused her so much pain, and I definitely understood why I was led to that very place by fate, itself. Many things had already happened, and I realized I could no longer change anything. The best thing I can do was there in front of me all along that night: atonement. With all the experiences we shared together and the love that once burned in the center of our bond, I went nearer and humbly knelt before her to ask for forgiveness. “…I’m sorry for all of these,” I uttered, “I know I did so many things against you making me unworthy of your word, but say your will, and I shall live with it. I loved you, but it’s really the other I need, and with all my heart, I can no longer take the feeling I had for her. I know it hurts you more than the way I feel, but examine me, and you’ll see that I greatly suffered for you in the past, and seeing you this way is so much unbearable. I hope you’ll understand that I can no longer go against the true will of my heart. And if it is a ‘farewell’ that you want, then so be it,” I paused for a while then concluded, “But please stay with me, I beg, even for a friend. Yes I needed her, and yes I love that stranger. But it was you…it was you who...”

She looked at me with those puffy eyes in a face I will forever cherish. The wind hovered over the windows of her room, cold as it was, as she stood silently from her place without a word. She wiped her tears as I stood there daunted with perplexity, still she didn’t say anything. Then she cast a look at me, and gently whispered, “Sing this last song with me.” We sang together like before, it brought memories of our first meeting, of the first words we said to each other. It saddened me knowing all these would end that night, and it had to for the sake of the truth. But the melodies we had will forever remain embedded in our hearts, and the memories will forever be graceful. We ended the song, a song I especially made for her. It was a moment of incomparable serenity, simple yet unexplainable.

An hour had passed since I saw her in pain, but then, all of a sudden, an awkward smile drew itself on her face. I was not quite sure whether I would smile at her, too, or show some sympathy or something; the emotions were mixed in a very complicated way. “It is enough,” I told myself as I stood up, released her hand, and grabbed the book where I wrote all the songs I had for her. But then, in the midst of the eeriness, she suddenly grabbed my wrist; I turned around and saw tears streaming down her face, but the weird part was that, she was smiling. “I don’t get,” I said; it was the last time I heard her voice that day, but what she said struck my soul indelibly that up to now I can still feel the striking power of her lips. “Thanks for everything. You showed me something no one can ever replace, and for that I’m happy, indeed. And whoever this stranger is, tell her my gratitude for letting you feel worthy of love. I hope she’ll love you the way I did. But I want you to know that I’m here, ready to sing another song for you…” I looked back and smiled, then in the faintest whisper, I heard her speak the very word that haunts me from that day forth, “…always...” I looked back, and she was gone asleep.

I returned home that night, bringing a bitter-sweet experience with me for the rest of my life. My parents invited me to dinner as soon as I entered the living room, I said I still wasn’t hungry since I ate some food before I left, then asked them where she was. They said she was in my room, “Kanina pa siya naghihintay ‘dun sayo!” My mom interjected hilariously. But indeed it was true. The stranger did wait long in my room; she asked me where I’d been as soon as she saw me. I told her everything that happened, she quickly understood and said she was very proud not only to me, but to her as well. After which, I told my parents about that night, and they, too, looked up to me finally in assurance that I finally learned and instilled the values of becoming a man. “I’m glad you finally decided and chose what your heart truly desires, my son. I’m so proud of you,” my dad uttered as they both hugged me. It was both the happiest and the saddest day of my childhood, in some way or another, I, in all my childish character, learned to be a man because of that experience, and of course, in an unknown process I cannot define. Yes, the feeling of telling the truth hurts; yet, it is one of the greatest feelings a man could ever feel. I slept that night not only with my new lover in my arms, but with pride and success in my heart as well.

Five years came to past since that night, and ‘til now, the love and passion I had for the stranger remains unchanged and withstood the test of time, proving my loyalty and fidelity to her… and of course, still ever-loyal to her. Before, people would say, “You cannot possibly serve two masters, Jasper,” and some would even ask perhaps in jealousy or with a motif to put me down or irritate me, “Bakit dalawa? Dapat isa lang. Mahirap kaya ang magmahal ng dalawa,” and even some would comment about it in awe and disbelief, “Cool. Maybe you can also teach me how to love two individuals, too!” or “How the hell did you do that? Hindi ka ba nagsisi?” Whatever the case was, I only answered them with silence, or sometimes, with a humble smile followed by a deathly grin. Yes, they were right - it’s hard to love two individuals, or using the common quote, ‘One cannot serve two masters’, since, technically, I did serve two masters. It was difficult, but it was possible, and it was probable in so many ways. Regret? I can say with confidence that I haven’t regretted a single moment, both happy and painful ones, I spent with either one of them, or any ‘mistake’ I have done against one of them in the past; for it wasn’t a mistake at all, but more like lessons to be learned and remembered. I cherished every single sentiment I had with the one I first loved, and left her with temporary pain but with perpetual joy. And to the stranger I’ll love ‘til the very second I will breathe my last breath, I vowed to forever serve her in loyalty as long as our lips can still sing the songs love entwined for us.

Time lapses by quickly, and often I would recall the past when I first learned to love using my heart when I was a child. The stranger has been with me all this time, although now the color of her complexion darkened a bit, still her unparalleled beauty still roams my dreams. Her hair, the very signature of her beauty, would always fall perfectly from her neck down to half her body, shining like diamonds from afar. Weird but every time I fiddle with her hair, she would sing a song so lovely to me, and up to this day, it still mystifies me why. Since then, I always love to brush my fingers through the strands of her hair, and often, I would pull out some unintentionally. She would fake a cry with pain even a toddler could withstand, and I would just smile at her, and kiss her in the cheeks, telling her, “Don’t worry, it would replace itself.” And how could I ever forget her voice, angelic as it is, though I’m used to it, it still gives me the same feeling of amazement and wonder every time she would poetically speak to me. She was lovely as a whole, and her soul and mine dwell as one, like we were connected in some manner. And yes, I hate to admit it, I am born to hold her in my arms, not only that, I’m destined as well to love her forever.

And yes, the past has been azure and picturesque as always. I, with the stranger with me when we would stroll around the campus where our residence resides, would often pass by her apartment, in its old age, as the walls creaked with the sound of insects and dripping water. At times, I would still walk to her and visit her in her room, and we would talk of the past and remember our songs as well as the songbook I specially dedicated for her. She was wonderful as ever, in her elaborate beauty, marked by the fitting chubbiness of her body, with the contrasts of black and white in her shadowed face. Her elegance and majesty was incomparable as well, she was no ordinary princess, like someone you can find in places. She was as rare as gemstones are. And those fingers that once was almost always in contact with mine, and her voice, so powerful yet heavenly in a way. A voice I was once addicted to, a voice that kept me singing for days when I was still a little kid, as I bragged about how beautiful she was to my parents. It was one of the most beautiful at the same time, moving feeling someone like me felt. Heaven, itself, dwells in us in the past as we sang the very first songs I learned together. It was simply memorable despite the anguish we once went through.

This very moment, the very time I wrote this sentence, the stranger lied in my lap, sleeping like an angel; and the other one visited the two of us in our sanctuary, sitting behind the wooden door of my bedroom and looking at me in delight and sheer salutation. I was not only happy for all of these, but thankful as well to the One who gave me the ability to love the two of them without making me look an infidel, and for the courage as well to move on with my life with the one I truly love forever with me, the one my heart longed unknowingly before, the one my heart needed when it felt an insatiable hunger for love's harmony, the one it really desires. Since then, my soul has been dwelling with the truth, and I hope it always will. Before I end my tale, I would like you to know that yes, I still love the two of them, although I love the stranger more than the other, not because they were both beautiful, but because they both showed me the essence and beauty of music.

Yes, I love the stranger with all my heart and in all that I am, but I cannot deny the fact that it was she who taught me how to love truly in the first place. With all the passion, with all the style, and with love’s emergence and revival in the midst of us, the three of us sang the first songs I first wrote, together in graceful chorus. It was a symphony of the most beautiful pieces I have composed both in the past and during the present; it was melodious in every possible definition. The song had ended, the music died down, and the notes gradually lost its accent then went to decrescendo. She left me and the stranger together alone, seeing how happy we were together; she bestowed her best wishes and a message of how thankful she was for everything I left in her memory. The love we had completely faded to the unknown, but our past memoirs will always be something I can freely tell to all of you. But now, I have finally committed myself to the stranger I crazily fell in love with, for her hand and mine will never part again.

So you see, my friend, loving two beings is indeed possible, perhaps in mysterious ways we cannot understand. And yes, I still do love these two princesses equally in one way or another, even until this very day. It is not a matter of whether you love the other more, or you love the first less, it’s a matter of which one you’d chose to be loyal with ‘til the end of time. Through the stranger, I showed that I can be someone I was not before, and unveiled to every one how strong and true my emotions are for her and only will be. And now I finally proved myself worthy of her love, and nurtured my endurance and passion. I may not be that good in showing her how special she is, or how much I loved her, the way others do, but one thing I’m sure of: I’m distinct, my style is unique, and no one can love her the way I do. I will never forget how to play and sing with her, the solitary nights I spent with her just to hold and touch her fingers; and most would call her piano, but for me, she's more than just an instrument, she's a living entity in my heart.

But I will never stop carressing the stranger I'm forever loyal to, a stranger with a thousand voices, mighty yet angelic in every possible way it resonates, like the sound of a choir of angels, in its multitude and majesty. From then on, I knew nothing can seperate us again, nothing can ever come between the unbreakable bond of our passion, of the love we built together. Her fire consumes me inside out continually since it ignited, and my hunger for her voice will never be satisfied. She gave me the salvation I longed before since I was a child, and now, I'm complete, not because of the absence of lies and deception that once wounded me, but because of her lasting presence.

Yes, I may break loose yet another strand of her hair... or sloppily brushed my hand down her neck like I always do, and yes, someday, death may come upon us...But until eternity exists, her voice will always be the sound, the melody love cannot survive without. She has always been there for me, whether for the better or for the worse, she was always there, ready to sing another song for me, and I will always be there for her, too, ready to sing with her in any key she desires. And since the day I met her, I have been calling her by her name, a name anyone knows, yet a name that brought serenity and wholeness in my life, a name my soul needs, something that has always been a part of my dreams...And whatever happens, I will always call her by her name, the alias I have always known...I love her, and I always will.

Though I have known her that long, she still remains to be the same stranger to me, in all her priceless beauty, in all her charm any man cannot resist, yet masked by the mystery she possessed, and the unexpected things she keeps on telling me. She'll never grow tired even if I needed her to sing a thousand songs I desire, and I'll never grow weary even if she wanted me to stay with her 'til the break of dawn. It is because of these things why my love for the stranger has never once faded, and my passion for her remains to be both immeasurable and uncontrollable.

Summer of 2002, I met her in my bedroom, soundly sleeping as I woke up beside her; and from that day forth, all things changed. But still, I wake up every morning just to see her lying beside me, though now, she's embracing the one who showed her the love she truly deserves. A love more than the love a man could ever give to a woman.

I love her... my inspiration, my singing duet, my source of passion... My all-consuming fire...my heart's very whisper...my spirit's very voice...and my ever-faithful friend...

My… Guitar…

A Tragic Comedy

(The Sequel)

“Visions eluded my sight; visions that are haunted yet sacred. Love hovered lowly, and the embers carried by Zephyr out of its flame shimmered flawlessly in the eerie haven. I stood under columns of crystal ruined by the elements, elegiac but proud. Then, I conceded…”


Lightning. Yes, lightning. A flash of it can be seen from the east and west at the same time. Without a doubt, light is extremely fast. And conclusively, lightning is a product of this source; yet its beauty is never revealed wholly without the aftermath: the sound of thunder. Yes, thunder. Though it comes with delay, the dramatic phenomenon is never complete without its rumble. Most would see a thunderstorm as something chaotic and destructive, but only a few dig deeper to appreciate its beauty; even scientists, themselves, assume that life would not have existed without such force nature can only create. Now, you wonder about its relevance? I, myself, wonder too.

…

The wind blew gently upon the meadows of the school as I reminisced silently in the midst of a still, rainy afternoon. Often, I’m with my friends, howling in the hallways at the top of our voices, but I began to realize that perhaps, life isn’t always about delight. For certain periods of time, they were my only source of laughter and imbecility, but perhaps this was the best time to be alone, to reflect and contemplate. A tinge of sadness could be heard in my voice, and even in some hours of the day, not one would even hear me utter a word. I forced myself to pretend nothing happened, but the elegy seemed to rewind in my ears, which would violently clasped the last traces of happiness within me. Neither the mind nor the heart could find the pieces of debris torn down by the charge against my fortress, for even these betrayed their master and escaped before the siege, leaving me vulnerable and naked. Yes, I was glorified by them before, but in the end I was ripped off my reign and pulled down into the darkest of chasms. For once, they served as the only armory I had; at the same time, ultimate and trusted weapons kept for security; they were priceless and came only a little short of the standard of perfection. Often, both would cooperate and empower every turbine in my body; but for that instance, they were independent and even prevented themselves from interlocking. Every time I faced my reflection, I see a creature eating dust and gnashing its teeth, left to decay under the hallows of the unknown. Oh yes, it was horrendous, the worst nightmare one may experience. But these descriptions define only a tenth of the entire picture, yet perhaps it’s enough to give you a thought of my play’s ‘happily-ever-after’. At first glance, it portrays itself as a paradox. But the true irony behind the façade is the unconditional acceptance I had only for her.

I write with sheer symbolism, sometimes in a grandiose manner that might be confusing. But one must know that my statements are facts, and not out of embellishment. My advice is that one must immerse oneself deeply into the truth; for the resonance of death screeches through the pages, roaming in the shallow shores of lies and obscurity. The mission I have to carry out is to express everything with honesty and sincerity, and ensure the revival of a lost heart. Let no one be disturbed by this tale, for the verses speak of love alone.

…

Graceful as she seemed to be, deception still engraved itself in my imagination as I looked upon the visage of my dreams. As my eyes locked on hers, a sudden effusion of undefined emotions radiated wildly within my self, shutting down my system without any form of warning or precaution. And the only thing I got from crawling through her static territory: a grave look. Yes. At least, trespassers are not executed, but rather welcomed in a bitter way. Now you see, it’s not easy to fall in love with someone belonging in the highest standard of extremity, not that they often show no hope, but their actions depict some kind of nothingness. And to vanquish this nothingness, one must apply vigorous effort that can rather be fatal than helpful to the caster. In other terms, it is suicide. Out of such events, I began to realize that she was the only lady who made me look like an effete mortal, a useless being trampled in the threshold of her grounds. Although it was the first time I felt brutality in loving, I manage to again adapt with the rotations of the carousel. The best thing was that, all these circumstances simply vanish into thin air when a snapshot of her smile is conjured. The more hopeless my love becomes, the sweeter her words taste; this, itself, sounds strange in a way that it never made details looked hyperbolic. But the reason why her apparition managed to captivate my heart so quickly remains a mystery that may never be unlocked. And metaphorically, as lightning flashes sharply from east to west, so did she, who was once a representative of the unknown, start to dominate my world in an unimaginable rate.

Yes, the seeds sprouted exponentially, and I was left in a state of surviving the very feelings I had for her, lost in a maze I, myself, created. Everything began to choke me, or if not, entangled my senses in a manner without mercy. And this mere interference caused love to overflow in my cup, but sadly, not a drop touched her tongue. Why? Not one reason is known, and even if answers existed, they would not be in the form of words but rather of abstract images. Oh, I began to see that perhaps I can never decipher her ways, but what I know is that a huge portion of things I offered had only been wasted or kept clandestine. And yet, as her carelessness grew, so did my love for her. The very thorns that caused massive pain and bleeding were the same hindrances that kept my foundations from crumbling, and in a way, even hastened my footsteps. With such power and dexterity love bestowed upon me, I was capable in traversing mountains in a battleground where passion consumed what was left in its wake. In other words I say, courage from a nameless source turned my weak heart into a gallant fighter. With it, I gained confidence and other virtues in my untimely metamorphosis that, hopefully, would lead to the exhilaration of victory. Now you say that perhaps hope is on my side, or is it only something that was previously said, a mere illusion in the end? I thought of pondering further on my thoughts, but soon enough, I saw that it wasn’t necessary. The transitions were fast, and in the process of the catastrophe, the once hidden face of deceit showed itself clearly out of all the questions and the vagueness delivered with it. Yes, a flash of light illuminated my skies for a blink of an eye, but soon I realized that its beauty does not last long enough to keep hope significant. Thus, it doesn’t end with light, but rather with the sound of Hades. And where light was once present, the wrath of darkness soon took over with its growl: thunder.

Thunder. That night, I prayed for certainty, and wished that faith is the only thing I need to succeed. To tell the untold without hesitation is a difficult thing to do, but opening my self to something that can either be an alliance or a conspired assault against me is by far, the most suicidal move I had to do. Connivance was inevitable, and doubt destroyed every tactic I planned. But I knew that if I skipped this part of the play, I wouldn’t be able to tell her everything in the future, and regret would follow me for the rest of my days. So I must do it, and I have to for love’s sake. A regular conversation online was all I need to begin, everyone involved waited patiently for that day, the day I would unravel all the epiphanies I withstood for her. The only bullet I had was the very words I desired her to know; it was written boldly on a black sheet of paper on this very blogsite (the previous blog), a confession of emotions she can only understand. Yes, all the words took me days to complete, a single composition dedicated in saying what I felt for her. Perhaps you read it before, but you must know that my aim was not quality or to acquire pitiful attention whether from her or from the readers, themselves; but rather to kindle the feelings love brought in its arms against all cost. It is a one-shot opportunity, the only option left in the counter. If it hits her directly, the barriers would be broken at last. If it doesn’t, everything ends tonight, and tomorrow would be a day where sorrow would be insurmountable.

A matter of losing the battle might be only steps away, but this was the only thing that could make all the difference. But I began to think that changes can only occur if she, herself, allows it; nevertheless, I have to learn that time can tell everything, and I began to learn that the hard way. Seconds ticked, and a friend confirmed that she was reading the post; out of silence, I could hear my heart pounding nervously, as I thought of the reactions meant to happen. Every passing minute, I would close my eyes even if I don’t want to do so, and whisper a prayer to myself that I would be able to open a stubborn heart. I never wanted to miss anything, and so I waited quietly to settle my nerves, while chatting to one of her friends about the unfolding situations. And at last, after a time that seemed like days, it was done; she was finished. The fabric of reality covered everything once again, but still it felt like I and she was still in another dimension. I expected chaos soon after, but her words sounder rather tranquil. “I read it,” she said, as I came over it for the second time. Then, she smiled. Yes...Smiled. I started to wonder why or what was happening? And why her reaction was sweet rather than being violent? I didn’t know what to say, so I ask her what she thought about it. After a few seconds, a reply came. “Sweeeettt…” written boldly in front of my motionless face. The words she interjected only made everything blurry, but a weird feeling of success a few feet away was felt; a glorious victory perhaps? No. Suddenly, I heard a strange voice out of the eerie ambience, “It’s not done.” It sounded malignant, and I trembled with it. The next thing that happened was indescribable; it was like hell rose up and turned into an eternal nightmare, bound to shut the doors of paradise for eternity. I will forever hate the words I heard that moment, for it ruptured every vein in my body and even tackled my reputation. Now you wonder and ask, “Did I hit the spot? Or did the bullet miss?” Neither. She evaded…

The girl I love most was once a victim of a tragic romance, something murdered by fate in an oblivious past. I don’t have the right to know and examine her forgotten memories, but I can do nothing if all fingers point to it. The story she didn’t have the courage and ability to tell was indirectly stated by another; and I started to wonder why even a thought of what happened during that instance made me weary. Though the lines were common, I still felt disturbed since it came from her, herself; and I admit that I was burdened by her words heavily. It was something I thought she tried to tell me, but I never wanted to listen, until that instance when I was all ears. And as I listened in all that I am, I started to feel the most excruciating pain ever felt in my life, everything shattered from the inside out. Someone out of nowhere said that perhaps its time for her to be frank, to tell me honestly about the true picture behind the illusions. And for the first time, I realized how painful the truth is, but I have to persevere with a mission where truth must prevail; I must. She was the victim, at the same time, the murderer. It was to complex for any means of explanation, and probably it’s useless for the innocent to know. But what I went through that night remained indelible, and as I breathed during those minutes of melancholy, I couldn’t help but feel hopeless and defeated. All the things I built were burned down to ashes as the coldness wiped through my helpless state; and the facts were at last, revealed to me. I couldn’t clearly see if she did mourn with me or if what she did after she knew the way I felt was only an act of sympathy, but it felt fair that in the midst of loneliness, I still have her shoulder to cry on. From then on, I could see that somehow she was my companion and friend; but I confess that I felt rejected by her words alone, and all the sacrifices I did was somehow set aside and left to rot. I realized how my own blood was wasted simply to know that my faith is unreliable, and the sincerity I had for love was nothing but withered grass blown by the wind. Out of anguish, I screamed at the top of my lungs, my final act of desperation out of the last traces of strength in a soul broken by fate. And the only answer I got was the echo of distorted words.

In the middle of that night, not a ray of luminance seeped through my room as I forced myself to cry, to shed tears until blood rushes through my skin. But even in the verge of despair, not a single tear fell down my cheeks. I wanted to just weep for hours until not a drop would fall, I wanted to cry until I knock myself to asleep, but for some reasons, I just can’t. Yes, I have dreams that are left pending, yet that moment, I never felt reluctant in killing myself literally. But such acts would only make things worse or even lead to my doom. The only thing that felt right for me to do was to question myself each moment and utter, “Why? Why do things have to be this way?” I kept on asking things that have never been answered before, and out of an empty self, all shadows started to surround me as I lay wounded on the floor. And still, in such desolation, not one of them entrusted the words I sought for, no utterance was given. Damnation. And though I never dared to seek earnestly for the love I needed most, I did long for ways just to get her closer into my arms enough to alter my demeanor. But in the midst of the fall of my empire, I began to see that even if I don’t have all the answers; and even if my situation seemed dire in the midst of hopelessness, at least I’m still here, standing before you, breathing the very air that almost killed me from within. But time after time, I felt that I hadn’t existed during that night of ballads and tears, and that all the sorrow brought by her words never animated into reality. Instead, they were kept in another abyss, so I may forget all that had happened during that instance. And so in my fall, I stood up; I stood up to look at myself fully as I see her as the worst yet the sweetest part of my puzzle, where all the pieces have gone missing. Without her, I’m incomplete, and my purpose in life will be of no definite meaning. That’s how tender and overflowing my love is for her, against all forces of rejection and hatred that led me to fall down on my knees. In all the nights where I knelt lowly begging for hope, asking that somehow I would be able to hear her speak the words I longed to hear, I was able to see that somehow, even in defeat, I was never alone; and that perhaps she’s always there for me in a sense she’s not conscious about, even if the things I expected most never happened at all. Hope may never be constant or stable, but my faith will never be led astray by things that keep us apart. But nevertheless, I have to accept the vicissitudes embedded in my own romance, and know that she might never caress the emotions I have for her.

Indeed good things come to an end, but the endings mark the genesis of something better. Experiences have never once touched my reputation, but perhaps the pain that kept on haunting me would be something I can never repel. The way she evaded the love I have for her may not be a form of rejection at all, but perhaps something that tells how unprepared we were to be molded by a transcendental entity like love, itself. It seems that she wasn’t ready for the words I said, or probably she’s in a paranoia about the past that could envelope her any moment. Either way, I, myself, was struck by the blow, and maybe likewise in her part and in others prominent in the tale as well. It was traumatic; however, I felt joyous in my failure to lead someone I held dear in loving an ogre. I still couldn’t explain why, but for this time, it never felt strange. The great thing was that nothing was meant to lie in ruins; and besides, I, myself, know by heart that this is a tale that will remain a part of my memory in the latter days of my youth, memories where love never ended. Why believe that love has no end, if in reality, it cannot be proven? And why believe that all things are possible, if love, itself, cannot be felt? It’s amazing how the simplest of things can deplete the greatest faith, but never let yourself be deceived by what your senses can basically perceive. My point is that I can fail and fall a thousand times, but I have the strength to rise up without hope on my side. For I see it as not the end of everything, but rather a pit-stop where one must check his or her status as a person, whether one lacks something or gained things too much. And even if I don’t care with the way I looked stupid or careless in one way or another, I can never consider myself numb and insensitive on certain relational aspects. I’m better unarmored in battle rather than avoiding pain for my own good. But it’s difficult to accept the truth that it’s not easy to love without getting even a nugget of love back, but for as long as I have the strength to attain the last steps of the final line, I must pursue and continue the quest.

Quests. Before, my quests were nothing but places where the residue of fate is evident. That night, I heard her say or perhaps someone on how tragic her past was along with its sonnets, and that I couldn’t understand the reasons behind it, which in turn, led to her evasion. But how could I fail to understand her words, if I, myself, went through all the agony love can offer. Yes, for the first time, I would reveal my deepest secrets, and perhaps tell on how bitter love was for me before. If you know me, then somehow, you’re lucky to be able to know who I once was, and perhaps, you’re in the right place at the right time. But I won’t be surprise if one will feel bored in reading a story that seems to have no ending, but I shall continue with my tale nonetheless. No fallacy, no lies, only the truth. The facts are disorganized due to my faulty memory, but what I think is important is the essence of every experience I and perhaps you, yourself, once felt. Only a few witnessed who I was before, and perhaps even they, themselves, had forgotten everything. What many don’t know is that memories cannot die, but they do wait in slumber. And this dormant state can be awakened anytime by something it cannot withstand. Destiny. In a sudden, I found myself telling all these things to her that very night, and by then, tears started to stream down my face.

My past is not what many see, and the only one who truly knows about every event and detail about it is I, alone. You see, even if these words sound not out of the person people see as my self, the fact is that I can never hide the unobvious forever. And although the things I might say are not aligned with my garrulous character or the way most see it whatsoever, it doesn’t mean that my soul is immune to any form of scar or wound. I, too, feel sadness, in higher levels no one can see or understand. My battered body is marked with ordeals of the past, and serves as evidence on how I was punished by my own deliberate acts. Before, I like to play with the magic of love, playing in a way that I began to unconsciously hurt others; and even now, I admit that my selfish way often unveil itself at times when my self loses control over my own emotions. And even above cliffs where a fall is inescapable, hell still set it gates open each time I’m caught idle or alone before it. The flashback, itself, shows how unforgiving fate slandered me. And as I stood there staring at the horizon, I began to see how great the consequences were for my gratuitous acts; and as I looked down, below lies a grave of all forsaken memories I have.

Flashbacks. Once, I loved a lady; and, as any lover would say, she once meant everything to me. Or perhaps it was only infatuation? And confusion was inevitable since it was first love, and the worst thing is that it was about our selves. Yes, ourselves. Well, it didn’t last long; and in the verge of the events, everything led to our break-up. But pain only felt like a bee sting, and soon, I grew impatient to love once again. Little did I know that I was starting to engage into something ominous and unknown, yet it somehow masked itself as being magical. But I just couldn’t see the way all things started to deceive me. And still, that spark started everything. Then it came, and another, and another; it was a cycle that gave me an insatiable hunger for love, and yes, it was addictive. But the more I started to love with a heart, the greater the pain I had to carry. And I knew that it would come to a point where everything would turn unbearable, and all things would come crashing down on me. What I didn’t know was that it was meant to happen only a little sooner after the first spark ignited all the torches. And the worst part of it was that, in a relationship ultimately perfect and magical, everything about it along with the memoirs had to end drastically.

She was once, the only girl I loved truly, voluptuous both inside and out. And the way she caught me tells how amazing she could turn everything upside down. In short, she’s perfect, at least for me. And the great thing was that, our relationship had no flaws, and love flowed freely into us; only a few obstacles stood before us, for even our own family never interfered on our bondage as one. These things once led me to think that perhaps she’s the right one for me and I'm the one for her, but I realized that perhaps even heart so loyal could be that wrong. The feelings I had for her turned obsolete when fate, itself, started to again strike a blow that proved to be so fatal, that even a memory of that night of December 2004 still echoes pain within me, a pain that remained hidden and once known only by my self. Yes, that dark, cold night, I started to wonder why I felt some horror coming. I couldn’t think properly and I started to feel restless. What I didn’t know was that a storm was yet to come, a force so powerful that everything with it trembled when I tried to withstand it. The culprit on why I felt such horror is still unknown up to this day, the only thing I could remember is that I started to wonder on why it was late night and she still haven’t called me. I felt hunger, but I couldn’t eat unless everything would be clear. But the shocking news that came soon after from a friend destroyed all that was left in my sanity. It was an accident, an incident that occurred in a street where she was only trying to get herself home. Yes, it gave me some answers, but it only led to so many questions that kept on haunting me like the ghosts of men who died in battle. She was involved in the accident, and I heard that she was in a critical state. Time, itself, stopped as I tried to calm myself down amidst the nightmare. But it was too late. That very night, she died. Yes… Death, itself, had separated us. And even now, I could still remember the way I wept that night, it was so unbearable that I almost ended my life.

From then on, I kept on asking God why He would allow such thing, that from all the joy I felt from the perfect harmonies she attuned for me, everything would simply vanish in one night. But my questions were never answered, and for that instance, I felt the pain that awakened the way I was before; I felt regret on the things I did and things I could have done for love; I felt a presence that told me the things I could have said to show her how much she meant to me. Could it be some form of punishment for all the wrong things I did in love? Or is it only His will to change the way I am? I may never know. But it’s difficult to understand why such a force like Death would strike simply to separate me from someone I thought would be my companion for the rest of my life. And yet, it was still acceptance that gave me the courage to move on.

Reality. As I told her my own tragic tales that night no different before, I started to wonder if I still deserve that punishment that very minute in the midst of all the tears I shed. And from then on, she was perhaps unable to utter anything in our conversation online, perhaps she, too, was struck by my own past that can never be compared to hers. Like before, I don’t need any form of pity or sympathy, I only want to fulfill a vow that I would express myself entirely through this crap. But I knew that she somehow shared the same pain I once felt nonetheless, and yet, I still wondered if she would understand my words. And though our experiences are in a par, the way we reacted to the circumstances is a matter we only knew in ourselves. She might have understood the meanings, but perhaps the essence of each is disregarded. I can’t judge her or assume anything out of the ordinary simply because I don’t know her that much, but the bitterness of the events gave me some of the pieces once lost under the depths of love. Out of the escalating scenes, I told her that if she turned out to be a memory only meant to be forgotten like all the others, then perhaps it’s useless to stay firm on the floor. But all the words only trapped me in a bottomless pit, and everything I had started to abandon me. I was isolated from reality; but that night had to end.

Time rolled quickly as I tried to forget all the turmoil laid in the recesses of the past. But I started to have dreams, dreams that somehow foretold the future in a disturbing way. It was late afternoon, and all the hectic activities ended at last as I packed my things. I and a friend decided to walk down the street of our school to catch up for any transportation to the other campus at the same time, to have a little chatter. But our topics started to lead once again to a past I have surrendered to the flames. The prophecies were told, as another assault had started to invade me secretly. He showed me details that were confusing, but nevertheless, it made me realize how blind my conscience was. Although it never explained a single thing, at least my slumber in some other things rather that the indispensable emotions I had for her was awakened by the early warning. The concern opened my eyes to many things I never took concern of; our chatter (which somehow seemed like a debate), proved how even the closest of friends can stab you from behind. I understood that the aim was to help me realize how insensitive I was before and the mistakes I should have recovered, which was somehow good, but the way they were to execute the plan was a violation to the ethics of humanity. The plot against me was out of an evil conspiracy. They could perhaps confront me about the matter, why then they have to strike indirectly? Yes, the matter made me think of how I had been acting lately, but I never cared about what they want or planned to do. It’s only one senseless matter compared to all the other things I have to take with careful action. But it was enough to tell me that she, the odalisque who still holds my heart, can never be easily used by someone whose goal was perhaps vengeance alone. Revenge is sweet, but atonement is sweeter. It only gave me an idea of how firm her foundations are, and how strong she is as a paragon in her own life. Yes, she’s as graceful as a dove, but she’s as vile as a snake. And I love her the way she is.

Love is infinite, and it cannot be easily laid down to anyone who doesn’t deserve its embrace. Forgetting what had happened is a thing of the past; acceptance is what I need most. When I proposed to write this sequel, one of her friends reckoned, “Baka makalimutan mo na ‘yan ‘pag sinulat mo na.” But how can I forget something that left a scar so deep that it can never subdue completely; the emotions never subsided, and everything compelled me in one way or another, as if I've been trying to make the wrong things the right one, which is something very hard to achieve. Since then, I started to believe that love is the only remedy for all these wounds, but I still couldn’t see why many of us gamble our heart for something that can destroy one’s reputation. It only proves how dedicated we are for the ones we love most, and how we could make improbable things to happen. Someone uttered, “Pare, its time to move on…”, and another would say, “You must pursue. You have to put everything into action.” But either way, I can always love her with all I could give, at the same time move on to the next step. It’s faith that led me further into an impossible situation, but I have to admit that somehow it felt like a crossroads lies before me. I, sometimes, maybe cynical, but this is because a fear of failure is starting to gain effect within my feeble state. My own convictions are perhaps, never proven, and my questions may never be answered in time; but one thing I know, that even in such distance, when time, itself, would tell how everything will came to past and lie under the grave of the forgotten, she will remain remembered in my heart.

Wearing a mask to cover the bruises; pretending happy amidst the pain; loving unrequitedly; forgetting things that are indelibly carved in the concrete pillars of your self; such things are impossible, if not, difficult to do. One can pretend everything’s fine, when deep inside, all the anguish and desolation tear oneself apart. I am nothing but broken pottery put together by glue, I may look complete, but deep inside certain things are lacking or have been shattered completely. I thrived to survive in a battle where she, herself, is both my foe and ally; and from then I realized these things, I saw how glorious my defeat is. What truly matters is that love took dominion over war, this had justified so many things. Perhaps you expect something happy in the end. Yes. I’m happy, even joyful, joyful that even I failed in leading her to love, I was given the chance to show her the things I felt for her. Perhaps she never liked me, or she was never interested, but such things never really mattered. It’s fair enough that partially, I did succeed. In the past, I saw how selfish I was in finding love only when I wanted it, and since my contemplation, I was humbled down by the incomparable power love manifests. My efforts were never rewarded handsomely, and I still carry the burden of her words. But I realized that my goal was not to love her; it was something never explained before. Although the plunge was fatal, at least the things I pledged to myself were kept. And I knew that waiting in vain is not a wise decision, but I have to even in the vacuum of her heart.

The rains had finally stopped, as the cold breeze brushed my skin gently. I started to again reminisce silently as I stare on images of grandeur mountains that lie above the horizon. The brightness of the vacuous sky cast silhouettes on both sanctuaries and dead lands of the fields, telling something about how the day ended. As I looked upon every face of the past, I saw on how vulnerable I was to love and its turbulence, as if each one looked rather the right one for me. But what I saw were only mirages of a desert I’ve been walking through for fourteen years, still lost and confused about who I really am. Going back to that night, I realized how I wasn’t able to comprehend all the words she said, especially when she uttered, “Hindi ko kayang isukli ang binibigay mo sa akin.” And I couldn’t understand why she felt not worthy of my love, when in fact, it is I who will never be worthy of hers. I ended that night with nothing but scars and a degraded soul; and perhaps she made me once again realize how human I am, as what a friend once said. But what she did was right, for she only stood by her own decisions and held herself back from ‘words of persuasion’ that would surely lead her astray. From then on, I realized how puerile I was in my decisions in the heights and declines of the events. But it was she who indirectly gave me gallantness in battle, the once nameless source turned out to be her. As circumstances rippled out of nowhere, love grew scarce as I took the last words. But it is love, itself, that makes her perfect in my sight.

This is my tragic comedy. It’s not that tragic, and it’s not that funny. Tragic: because it led to so many ordeals that unfolded in my own folly. Comedy: because I know that someday, I would laugh at myself when I remember such tales in the ages to come. She was endowed with both ethereal beauty and purity of heart, but what these things say explains on why so many things had to be eluded. I wanted her closer, but the more I feel closer to her, the more love goes further away from me. And yet, such things tell on how vibrant in color life is, that life is never black and white. I was meant to untie the knot, and let the eagle fly freely in the skies. With it, I am ever exultant, on how her scent still lingers in the absence of her symphonies. My words may sound trite, or even redundant, or perhaps possess pleonasm, but like before, it’s the only way on how I could describe the feelings even with so much clutter; for words, alone, are not enough. You wonder on why I right symbolically and why I try to hide the details behind every word, it’s because I have to keep a low identity, and for the sake of privacy on some matters that are confidential. What I’m trying to say may sound irrelevant, but someday you’ll understand the reasons behind it. For it was only then I saw how my totality was unveiled. That night, I started to see how even a wrong move of the knife would cause such consequences, but somehow, I felt proud amidst the instability of everything. Her words were final, and I could do nothing about it. It’s still a matter of acceptance in the end. But I will always see her as the only worthy bearer of all special things I have the inability to give. I wanted to thank her, to thank her for everything she did amidst my defeat, and for being the inspiration that led me to realize who I really am, and perhaps, she gave me something far greater than love. Yes. She holds the key to my heart; the only problem is that the key, itself, is locked within her, too. But still, she remains as the Cleopatra of my falling kingdom; even if she, herself, cannot accept such authority over a slave, she will always rule my world, a world ever willing to pursue for the worst. And so I could render nothing but accept that indeed she’s the only one for me, but perhaps, I may never be the one for her...

Love.
Love is not about finding what you want, but rather waiting for the one you need;

It’s not about hope, but rather of the power of faith;
It’s not about sacrifice, but rather the will to persevere;

Love is not about understanding, but rather your will in acceptance;

It's not about those hugs and kisses, but rather of the turmoil and infliction of pain;

It's not about the tears, but rather the reason why you cried most;

Love is not about sympathy, but rather about honesty and sincerity of heart;

It's not about how close you are, but rather of your will to go further away to get her closer;

It's not about exchanging of gifts, but rather of giving despite you get nothing back;

Love is not about fate, but rather of the things destiny can only tell;

It's not about the moments, but rather of how you would cherish each;

It's not about being sensitive, but rather of standing by your own decisions;

Love is not about the obstacles in the way, but rather of how you would traverse each;

It's not about the number of times you said 'I Love You', but rather of saying it without a reason at all;

It's not about fairness and justice, but rather of being just despite the rejection;

Love is not about wearing masks, but rather of unveiling it to show who you really are;

It's not about how unbreakable the bond is, but rather of how fragile your heart becomes in loving;
It’s not about contentment, but rather of the joy you feel deeply;
Love is not about lending you heart, but opening it to someone you can trust;
It’s not about desires, but rather about the passion burning within;
It’s not about the truth, but rather the way you immerse yourself to it;
Love is not about vengeance, but rather of forgiveness;
It’s not about circumstances, but rather how you react to such trials;
It’s not about making her yours, but rather showing her that you’re hers;
Love is not about giving her everything, but rather offering her a thing out of nothing;
It’s not about leading her to love, but rather leading love to her;
It’s not about how painful the past is, but rather the essence of each experience;
Love is not about having her in your arms, but rather losing her just to feel her embrace;
It’s not about the happiness it brings, but rather the pain it gives for the sake of her happiness;
It’s not about how melodious her voice is, but rather about how sweet her words taste;
It's not about restriction, but rather about the freedom it gives;
Love is not about your dreams, but rather about the promises you have to keep;
It’s not about how long, but rather about how much you have loved;

It'is not about winning the battle, but rather losing it to win the war;
It’s not about how you have been wounded, but rather about how deep the wounds are;
And Love is not about proving your worthy of her love, but rather showing how worthless you are without it.

And what about the scars?
Yes. Love can cure the deepest wounds, but it’s the only thing that can cause it.

And it came to end…as I saw all the words I have uttered… it was only then I realized that my goal is not to love her, but rather to show her what love is…

...

...

...

***For SG...***

'Sus Mariosep!

“The words you speak are paradigms of insouciance; cold yet so calming. Oh, how I wish I can break the impenetrable barriers between us, and show you the very reason why I shed tears almost endlessly each night you never whispered goodnight.”


‘I can barely say a word when I hear her name.’ This line may sound cliché but it’s the closest way of defining the mentality I have since her presence was felt by mine. Some began to ask me who, others had simply known everything; some know absolutely nothing, while you might already have an idea who she is. Such things really don’t matter, but somehow, it felt like the old emotions began to haunt me again. Everything looked the same, if not, similar in many ways. Dejavu? Impossible. So I took a closer look, examining the sequence of events that led me to this state. Within a fraction of time, I spotted it, and it turned out that the difference was quite obvious.

“Nothing’s certain,” I said as I paced to and fro outside our classroom. The heat drove me insane for a while, and boredom combined with heat meant disastrous thoughts. I began to look around and noticed other students doing their own ways in eliminating the uneasiness. On the other side of the fourth floor where are section is located are a few neighbors, and people were also busy bustling in the hallways as well as inside their rooms. Most of them were in groups, and I easily recognized one of them: ‘The Tikbae Society’ (I’m sorry but it’s the only title I can call these guys). They are one of the last hybrids of DotA players in high school; I and a few others possess the very same blood that flows in their veins. Unfortunately, the rest or most of the students in the lower levels are crappy, if not, dorky and goofy; recruiting is almost impossible, and this made us realize that we are the last generation of students with both intelligence and ‘stukaei-ity’ in one package. Since preserving our legacy is not an option, we thought the best thing we can do is live our lives to the fullest in the last days of our royalty. So much about them, my point is most of them will actually take part in the script of this epical play.

Yes, a play; a play one may find complicated and even ominous. The way some view it really doesn’t matter, for the plot is common and likely: from a total stranger to something that goes beyond certain boundaries. You know what I’m talking about, and in a sense, I think you had known the details before I did. Now you see how common the setting is, so you wonder why I would spend time writing about something everyone can experience. Perhaps it’s something I like to take deeper; or perhaps it’s a risk I’m willing to take, where my blood is at stake. Neither I nor anyone knows the mystery of why I chose to engage in gambling myself as well as my heart in this duel, but I know it’s something worth my sacrifice. Misconceptions were already laid; some say I only want it merely for sheer challenge, others say that it’s for my own selfish desires. The only thing I was able to surpass such criticism was by pretending numb, or remembering past experiences that gave my struggling emotions rhythmical convulsions. I was virtually immune to it. The only thing that matters now is the truth that I hope will prevail in the eyes of many. And with open arms, I could do nothing but embrace the fact that I do like her in so many ways, and it is only the beginning…

Like any other night, I arrived late, ate my dinner and faced the computer simultaneously. It is the only pattern I know of in spending my extra time when I arrive home out of the crevasses of school besides studying and fulfilling my requirements. Often, it takes a while before I can connect to the internet since our connection was economic, but surprisingly it was quite fast that night. The only thing I did when I was able to connect was log-in to yahoo messenger and checked people online; in some cases, I open the browser and review my accounts or simply download files and songs. I felt lucky that somehow, we had no requirements that day and I was free to dilly-dally and forget the pressure in my hectic schedule. Chatting turned out to be a hassle in that peaceful scenery, but there was no other option left; in a while, I started some online conversations with fellow students. Astonishingly, some turned out to be quite interesting which, in turn, depleted the boredom. Something caught my eye, perhaps it’s someone I barely noticed in my list. She’s someone from the higher year, and I was in doubt if I’m going to call her ‘ate’ or not. Reluctantly, I started chatting with her, like starting a basic conversation with a total stranger. It was not long after I first met her online that she eventually became a friend, whether in my part or both of us knew that, it really doesn’t matter. Her classmate began bugging me about her, but I thought of it as something usual. I realized that she was sweet, but carefree in a very intricate way; the more I thought of her character, the more I was confused and I didn’t know the reason why. Within the climax, she signed out and I was left hanging and staring at the blinking cursor blankly. Something whispering in the back of my head began to annoy me, and it became extremely irritating and louder in a minute. I was inquisitive with myself on how the transition happened so fast that I almost lost my composure; something like that never happened to me before. Pretending everything seems to be clear, I signed out and turned the stereo of the computer on trying to fill the empty space with mellifluous songs. The lights were off, and I lied in bed totally awake, thinking deeply under the shadows of the moonlighted corner. A strange form of renaissance upheld me as I forced my eyes to sleep by repeating her name in my mind almost a thousand times. And the weird thing is, the particular song itself, perfectly matched the strangeness.

“How much longer, ‘cause this keeps getting stronger? I wonder what she’s doing when I’m singing myself to sleep…”

The play date of our theatrical play in our school was just a couple of days ahead, and since I had been chosen as one of its participants along with other students, it was not uncanny that we had to prepare and practice as soon as possible. We were assigned to provide the musical tunes of the play, and that meant tiresome task of shouldering loads of instruments. Yet it somehow felt worth the burden, at least this was better than staying home for the rest of the day. Music is also a distinguishable part of my soul and everything I know about it is cherished by heart. That personal interest gave me the joy and enjoyment of creating our own harmonies whenever we had the chance. The last prayer of the day signaled the start of practice, not that I was excited but I was dying to escape the symbols of education. In just a few days, I was used to the routine and it easily fitted my watch. But though each day was no different from each other, I knew that there would be one moment that would change the cycle.

It is a belief that things are always expected to unexpectedly unfold. The certain event I dreamt of happened the very day I thought it would. In the middle of the routinely made evacuation, a friend unknowingly grabbed me when I was caught idle and began to say something I thought was irrelevant. But I got his point when he guided me out my dysfunctional system and uttered something that tickled my curiosity. “That’s her,” he said while pointing to a particular girl that looked familiar. I stared at her for a few seconds while briefly scanning my memory. Then I started to realize and identify what I was looking for, “Ahhh! Siya ‘yung…’yung…” “Yeah, you’re right,” he said like he knew what I wondered about a few nights ago. I was too lazy to leave a comment so I continued on with the routine, though that instance I was lost, literally. The aftermath was unexplainable, it was a feeling that clanged within or perhaps it was something that ‘emulsified’ my thoughts. Whether it was this or that, the only thing I knew was the fact that an affinity exists in two particular things, that itself sent shivers down my spine. The night that day, I found it irresistible to have a conversation with her. The first and only thing I was able to type was the words ‘Nakita kita.’ After that, she began to ask me questions of how and where then strangely laughed herself out. I felt degraded that she still somehow knew me as a stranger, but I felt all right about it. This time, I slept not only with confusion, but with ignorance as well. “Who the hell is she? Why am I acting this way?” And yes, she was undoubtedly tantalizing.

Before, I kept on wondering why people who knew her laughed when I asked about her and mention her name. I did that for about three times, and each one had the same reaction, which in turn disturbed me, of course. It was not until someone mentioned her true name that I realized what people were trying to say. Later that very day, I checked back my messenger list still puzzled. I only found out soon that her name in my list composed of her first name and the surname of a female celebrity, which perplexed me more. But some of her friends began to explain the reasons, and such reasons were really hilarious and some made me think that she’s still someone typical. Everything about her kept me smiling each day; the worse thing is I was never conscious about it. Though in reality we, both, are still strangers, I already know many things about this woman even on the very night I met her. I know that she’s addicted to a particular celebrity, and that she like’s underground music; she loves to play musical instruments; I even thought of her as being a punk, and even her hobbies were simply revealed. Something mysterious exists between us. All these overwhelmed me, because every time I thought of things, I remember myself; well… except the celebrity part. And though we still only had a glimpse of our entire personality, I knew that from the very start, we share a common character and an inch margin of differences. Someone like her is not ordinary, someone entirely in one package. Her beauty is unquestionable, and her totality amazes me. Sometimes, I act with hauteur just to remove the haziness and see things a little clearer. But she only grew cold, which somehow upset me, yet her aura remained and even continued to wrap me. I tried to evince something, even evoke the emotions, but I often felt rejected in a sweet way. A certain callousness complies with her charm and in her pride, reflecting that there is something special about her being, something not known. I thought of this as a conspiracy, like everything boggled me in one way or another. I seek for her words, like a baby intimately longs for its mother. But I knocked myself back to where I belong, and remembered once again that I was still a stranger to her.

Desperately, I attempted to get myself closer to her. I chat with her whenever she’s online, and this turned regular every night. I desired for the person behind her shadows, and going that deep is difficult, if not, consequential. She showed some hope, then took it back, and projected it again; what I’m trying to say is, she’s erratic in a superlative level. With these occurrences, it was inevitable for people to link the two of us, and damn, it was irritating. But as time passed by, I grew used to it and maybe even her as well; often, I gave them a smile at times they annoy me (perhaps because it is true in my part.) But instead of preventing me from my goal, it only convinced and persuaded me to push harder and put a little amount of effort. Every night we had a short talk online, and it was enough for my feelings to lull myself to sleep. I once failed in asking her phone number, so I consulted one of her friends as well as asked for some advice on how I might approach her. Everything flowed smoothly, and I tried to maintain it that way as much as possible; it would be shocking or corrupting when I immediately show her the concealed secret I had for her. If I do something like that without thinking twice and failed, all the torches that I lighted will simply fade, and that risk is too much for me to take. I started it, and I had to pursue. The following week from the night I met her, we began texting regularly when she’s not busy or when I had the chance to. And still, a hint of coldness could still be seen in her messages; but like any other thing that kept on happening, I grew used to it. At least now, I could reach her without connecting to our slow network. Gladness is what I felt every night I stay late just to know her more, and perhaps by then, I was no longer a stranger to her. Her ‘goodnight’ was enough to show me a glimpse of friendship, and it was totally enough for happiness to purge me. Deeply, I was moved by still voices in my mind and all the words she said resounded along with it. I found myself under siege by my own emotions. For now, I started to long for her voice.

A week had passed, and though I already knew many things about this person and spent a reasonable amount of time conversing with her, we never talked personally or even seen each other face to face, not once. So I searched for ways on how I could meet her personally, or probably the only reason in my mind was I wanted to hear her speak. She thought that it was a great idea and agreed; I found her answer with the opportunity I was looking for, so I willingly planned a specific time for us to have what I had in mind. I thought of a script, and believe it or not, it was my first time to do something like that. Often, I never plan on what to say, but this time is quite different. With the help of some of my friends and their annoying mouths, I was able to successfully place things in their assigned places. The moment came, and in a sudden, I grew extremely nervous and began to feel restless; it was not normal for me to be that way, so I kept on wondering why I was sweating and trembling. But it’s now or never. I told her through text that I was a few tiles away, and the instance I saw her, I approached her gently. “Hello,” she said silently with a small voice. After I heard her greeting, all my plans along with the script I wrote in my mind came crashing down and my confidence was decreased to nothing; the only thing that came out of my lips was the word ‘hi’ and it came with a squeal; after, I began muttering and asking what I was supposed to say. I could not help but stare and be silent, and ended it with nothing interesting to say. Perhaps I was too nervous, but that cannot be since I never felt something like such. But maybe this time, it was different. Even now I still wonder why that strange occurrence happened, and each time I thought of it, I felt uneasy or even shut down. A view of her always speeds up my heartbeat, along with a smile I only show to myself. Many knew my feelings for her, and maybe even she had the idea of what it was from the beginning. But it really doesn’t matter, as long as I still see a silver lining in the sky. At least now, I could hear her voice in my dreams.

The critic night of our theatrical play was just a few days ahead, and we were as busy as bees in perfecting the scenes and preparing everything for our best performance. She always inspired me when I grew weary or jaded, and sometimes gave me an adrenaline rush whenever I was caught tired. The best thing was that I can freely say hi to her after the unfortified establishment a few days before, since almost everyone knew what was going on within me. I wanted a conversation that would last long and with certain interesting topics; but this still seemed improbable since my schedule grew more hectic because of the play. And at last, critic night came, the night we would be judged by our performance. Surprisingly, even with the lack of practice, we got good comments from the judges as well as positive remarks that made us realize we still have room for improvement. I was happy that day, but it was only partly because of the success of the play. A few hours ago, I again met her down the school’s cafeteria along with her classmates, most were club members. Since they kept on calling me and persuading me to do something, I thought of a way on how I can satisfy their expectation. “Anung gusto mo?” I asked her if she wanted something to eat. The only thing I heard after was applaud and screaming, and that, itself, was self-explanatory. “Thanks. Pero kumain na ako,” I think that’s what she said to me. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, it’s the only thing I could do after the sensation. Then, she was out of my sight as quickly as she was before me; in just a few minutes, we were texting again, talking about what happened a while ago. Although she didn’t accept my offer, it was enough to complete my day with joy deep within. Yes, a day without her voice is like a day without food. She once said that I was too sentimental, and I don’t know if I would accept that as a compliment or not. But what she saw was true, and there’s nothing left for me to explain why. This happened the night before I wrote this sentence, and I knew that memories like such would leave something eternal. I saw myself patched to her, and a form of mutual understanding battled in the existence of her presence. The abstract animated into something concrete, and it was just indescribable why it felt right. In other words, I started to feel something special for her.

Of course, there are always obstacles along the way. One of her friends warned me about her status as being in barriers, others about her cold character and the like, some words were frightening like how she turn down guys and how a line of defenses surrounds her, and others had nothing to say at all. But I see these things as something common, since I once encountered all these puddles of mud in my past. Yet I wonder again if this time, it would be different. Like what I said, “Nothing’s certain.” One time, I dared to ask her out if she has time, but she only hit me with parental restriction; this proves that the peril I thought of was right. And often, she goes home early and get busy with requirements of the school’s curriculum, proving that education is something she held dear. And what if she's only pretending in some things I see? What if a form of hatred or disgust is hidden from my sight? The things I assume may be right, not that I think about her that way, but a sense of foreboding has instilled itself within the fragile. Such may prevent me from revealing myself to her. Yes, I wanted to court her, but it seems like many things are at stake. But I think it’s time that I look to a place nearer than home, something I often missed considering, something that could change the polished tracks I laid before her: Myself.

Nobody is perfect. That line serves to be the basis of equality in everyone, that no one can be the best in everything. I, myself, knew and understood the basic concepts of life and how I should live with it. I’m no special than others; I’m simply a common guy with a common life and common traits. Everything about my self can be found in a million others, and though I am made unique, such factors are still unchangeable. Every time I thought of myself, I thought of how she looked at me. What chance do I have with someone so majestic? The probability seemed slim. My goal is not to play with her conscience, but to seek for answers if whether the ordinary can mend together with the perfect. You say that she is someone common; or maybe she, herself, considers that nothing seems special in her character. What they say doesn’t matter, for in my eyes, she’s the only girl I knew with all the treasures I longed for with patience of heart. Courting a demure and sophisticated lady may be the hardest thing I would dare to do, and even the only thing I’ll do for love where great things are in the line. She’s too perfect, even to good to be true, and all those things are priceless, if not, comes with a price. It would be costly in my heart’s part, but I’m neither concerned of the cost nor of my emotions. The question is, is she going to accept my words? Will she give me the chance? Such questions are never meant to be answered. You ask, “Why her?” Though she, too, comes with imperfections, it was engulfed by her smile. It’s not that she’s one in a million as romance usually utters, but the exact opposite: she’s a million in one, a fallen angel perhaps. All I’ve waited is in front of me, the only thing left for me to do was decide whether to reach for it or not. But of course, some instances would be agonizing. And I find myself coming back to where I stood before, still confused and obdurate. I have no time to seek for reasons, let heaven, itself, answer everything. Everything seems obfuscated, but I know of one thing: my heart beats only for her.

My own play has only started, and I still have no idea of the things that can happen. My days are numbered, and each one is made special by her. She may be unconscious about it, but it’s her own mysterious ways that made me act emotionally. But I don’t want to go impatient and pushed further without thinking, I want to assure everything flows slowly and surely. So far, the order never experienced chaos. But in time, I need her cooperation; and if trust is not established soon and her absence still lingers, everything will be rendered useless and will lie shattered on the floor. I say that I won’t survive life without inspiration, and her role is somehow unstable. She’s my royal odalisque, yet my state is lower than hers. So many tears had already been shed, but each drop is never wasted. Day and night, I vowed that I would do everything just to show her what this soul is crying out, and I’m ready to beat the odds.

Loving a stranger with all your heart without any means of control over my self and my emotions is probably the strangest thing I did. My loyalty towards myself is tested often; but this time, all these are only for her. I wished that hope will never stop guiding the way with that small yet eternal flame in the abyss of love. What I fear is that hope will turn out to be only an illusion, and that would be destructive. Perhaps I’m selfish or perhaps I’m too exaggerating; however, my selfishness is sweet to the tongue and exaggeration is the only way I could truly express myself. Time is not a factor, for its pendulum is no longer at work, what I want is a chance: a chance to persevere and attune myself. Yet I still see myself as a wandering stranger, desiring for something that seemed to be so near yet somehow impossible to attain. She’s someone I never wanted, but she’s someone I needed. I see her no longer as a stranger, not even friend, but an entity that surpassed the boundaries I limit myself with. Now, I could do nothing about it but expect the best or the worst. For she may never learn the essence of unbanding her tourniquets to let numbness vanish. And I don’t want to lose her by showing the truth, it would be too much. It’s not that she’s my property, but she’s already a part of me. Oh love, help me overcome fear, let her feel my pulse. Only love can make someone do all forms of insanity in life.

Sometimes I could see with clarity that I have no chance of succeeding. But even if I fail, as long as I would be able to let her feel what I wanted her to feel, it’s enough to give me serenity in my sleep; even if I succumb to failure, as long as I could show her how much she means to me, it’s enough to settle everything; and even if I have not been given the chance to show her these things, as long I won’t lose her, that, itself, is more than enough. I surrender into her arms, bold and defenseless. How I wished that I could feel her tender embrace, even if it can only be felt in dreams. My love is unrequited, the worst form of love one can imagine, the one-sided love. These unstable emotions are killing me softly, and… it hurts like hell. It's a matter of sacrifice, of withstanding the deathly daggers. I've been pierced by arrows and slashed by swords, but I have to stand up for her sake, for neither death nor life would send me back to the grave. My nights are no longer the same; but at least now I could say something interesting, that I love her with all my heart.

And indeed... it is very painful...yes...

But as long as I see her smiling... it’s worth the pain.

Farewell to My Fidelity

“Illusions of the mind are the realities of the heart; the waning howls of the night are the cries of joy of the serene morning…”

Unexpected as it may seem, still the hands of fate destined yet another love to end. A realization came upon me that destiny can sometimes go erratic, or often to vagabond to understand. Notes of confusion and pain resonate when love and destiny collide, and this melody is often too distorted that it causes an unpleasant sensation in your heart.

I knew that something was wrong; days were never the same as it used to be. Weeks ran with silence, without even a word from each other. She was hundreds of miles away then, and a strange feeling of newfound freedom enveloped me as I roamed freely during the succeeding days. Trust was one thing, the only thing that gave us an amount of security enough to hold on. Deep within me, I longed for a mature relationship, where distance is merely a conquest to be conquered with ease. But lonesome cries echoed in my mind. Unconsciously, an ominous force began to seep its way through my veins, a force that would soon reveal its destruction on the verge of a chaotic prophecy.

Time rolled quite softly, too soft that it bored me to death. I decided to go for a vacation since it was summer and I had nothing to do in my jurisdiction. An upcoming national youth assembly would be held in General Santos and it would be great if I would be able to attend. She was surprised when I told her about my sudden proposal, nevertheless she knew that I would be in distress if she disapproved. And so I left, almost instantly, aboard a cruise ship, bolstered by excitement and enthusiasm. That night, curiosity led me to ponder on sinister thoughts of freedom and liberty; some were spiritual, thinking why I have been so blessed and bestowed. I never knew that these things trailed to the path of our relationship’s undoing, and yet it somehow felt bittersweet. I barely understood why.

My arrival the next day was a crippling one. My muscles were strained from carrying my baggage and I could feel my bones crumbling from the unbearable heat and exhaustion. The time we reached our service, I cunningly sat down and sighed a moment of relief. At least now I can rest my feet and breathe with ease. The cozy residence where we were planned to reside was nearer than what I expected, and for that I felt justified. I met a handful of contemporaries who would attend the same event, and since we were a week early, we had time to abuse ourselves with sheer fun and laughter. At least, for them…

It was heartbreaking in my part when my stay was cut short for some certain health reasons, and I began to grow weary for such. The proposed three weeks was dissolved to a mere five days of self-torture and turmoil, an experience that would remain indelible. With only faith to cherish, I fought my way through the sleepless nights and eerie days of my torment. I was forced to leave the city as soon as possible in one way or another, from then I moaned and shivered from what I kept on thinking as a curse. It was the unfolding of the scroll of my revelation, the dawn of darkness, the genesis of a withering love. Disarmed and impaled, my hopeless state led me to wishing for a miracle; praying that this nightmare would end, hoping that when I open my eyes everything would be fine. My faith began to fade.

I muttered to myself if whether I’ll tell her about my horror or never at all. I thought that I would look egocentric if I dared not to, so I told her. Her reaction troubled me, for she thought about the matter as merely an inevitable part of growing up. Her sympathy was somehow joyous, but it made me feel mollified in an intricate way. She assured me that everything will be fine in a moment; I couldn’t help but pretend that I didn’t care about my situation though in fact I was silently weeping that very moment from discouragement and self-pity. I faked laughs, wore a mask, and wandered through my shallowness with broken wings. Questions remained unanswered, maybe they were really meant to be rhetorical. I, for once, blamed myself and thought of these things as consequences from the mistakes I had done before. I began to atone myself, asking for forgiveness, for rarely consulting Him and relying on my own strength. But it wasn’t the bigger picture, what about her? Is she the primal cause for this monstrosity? A pain in my chest choked me that moment, my blood grew cold.

Minutes seemed to last for days, and days for years. I turned stubborn and obstinate as time lashed its whip on my wounds. Savaging on a promise that He will never forsake me, I sought for my lost faith once more and this time, I vowed to be persistent. I submitted and offered myself whole, my soul, heart and mind to His will. “Kayo na po ang bahala sa ‘kin,” I kept on uttering over and over again on my reflection. My suffering seemed to be perpetual, but I gambled with fate by leaving it all to Him. I may sound religious or too spiritual, but I tell you: at times like these circumstances, it would be the only thing left for you to do in the end, for the very last drop of your own strength will be singed by fire. Prayer lightened my path, and by then I committed everything, He carried me.

I regained my sanity back and thought of reality rather than that of creating my own fantasies. Since this torment had already molested me, and things had already happened drastically and could not be changed, giving up to it would not be the most righteous decision. So I elevated the thought of making the best out of it, and even enjoy my long journey back to the unparallel tranquility of our home. And so it did; my journey through land bestowed my spirit sweet, unforgettable memories of my childhood; memoirs that I realized had persevered ‘til this day. I reminisced about my awe and amazement each time I gazed on a vast valley full of crops and fruits reaching even the horizon; and when my eyes grow big staring at the peak of what I thought was the highest mountain. Those were the nostalgic memories I still held close to my heart. I enjoyed the sea much as much as I enjoyed the land. But I had to admit that I was a little paranoid and inane on my travel. I was with my dad then, and I had this fear that I wouldn’t be able to aboard the boat where we would have our last travel back to my hometown, since my health problem was contagious. But thank God for his grace, we finally caressed ourselves with joy and felicity when we entered the sanctuary of our room. We enjoyed and abused the bountiful pleasures a suite room offers, it was almost like home. My dad enjoyed it obviously, for he was almost an hour in the shower satisfying his ignorance; I was in bed then, watching television as well as reflecting with the picturesque view of the majestic sea and the sky in the façade of the suite. Sunset was voluptuously lovely, and it gave me a feeling of contentment and happiness even through all the troubles that caused me so much pain. My suffering was eased, my turmoil ceased. For that, I extended my utmost gratitude to the One who made me realized that there are other special things in this world worth more than that of the insignificant and temporary things we could see, that beauty within us is the greatest thing He had entrusted us. They are nothing but rubbish compared to immaterial gifts that remain forever. Roses blossomed in my heart, and my mourning was replaced with rejoicing, joy that will never perish. My sincerity paid of, my prayers had been answered. A smile rushed to my face, delighted in a way.

As the radiant sun waved goodbye to the vermillion sky, and the once crimsoned horizon was painted with the lights of the heavens, a special person animated in my mind. She was there, my inamorata, her visage was as clear as crystal. I remembered seeing her beside myself in moments like this. We used to watch the sunset together when we stay late in the brow of our school. I never thought that such days have to lie dormant once more, where love just flowed freely like a river that was never intervened by human hands. For once, I thought this pathetic romance would last for eternity, but I guess eternity still does not exist in such age. “Our promises, our vows, all were too complicated for us to truly understand,” I thought. Chaotic as it may seem, at least it has to end not because of infidelity, but for reasons destiny could only tell. But then, a sudden blow shook my thinking with intensity, I realized that she still is innocent with the thoughts I manifested in that epiphany. In an instance, I was caught between a crossroads. One would lead to liberty, where I can commit my whole life entirely to a new path of incomparable joy in Him but at the cause of death of our love. The other is a lighter path where our love would be preserved, but would turn perilous in the future and might even cost my own soul. I was facing an unsolvable dilemma, aching with both choices. Both were considerably good paths, neither was wicked, but I had to choose for the best. It was never meant to be a confusing matter; it only turned out to be because of one thing, a fact I could never change.

My faith and hers were not parallel. I grew up to be a strong Christian with indestructible foundations, a pastor’s prodigy, someone who vowed to put my Creator first in everything. But she is a firm believer of the Muslim faith, as well as her entire family; she wouldn’t easily give up her spirituality, as well as I would not, too. For the reason that I didn’t expect our relationship to be that serious, I didn’t mind about this seemingly ceasing difference. But I stood vindicated by my own desires; our bond only grew strong as days and months passed by. Love bonded us to a point of being unbreakable, and so this matter grew more serious each day. Our future was at its wake, it held an irreversible downfall where we would face God, Himself. She kept on saying that there would be a way, but this only made the situation dire. We had to find our way out of this conspiracy, and I had to decide my path with alacrity but with wisdom, as well. But before I even seek for answers, she told me something I wasn’t prepared for.


“In the future, I’m willing to convert my own faith for the sake of our love,” she uttered with willingness and commitment, using only our cellular phones as our means of communication. I was often amazed with certain things she had been doing for me lately, and somehow I felt guilty of why I had to end this. I was shocked, but determined to know more. She proposed more about her unpredicted decision, but the more she explained, the more I grew perplexed. But then, I asked her something that silenced her for a while, “What about your family? What would they say?” She didn’t answer; she remained speechless and placid, lost for words I guess. In a moment we collided with destiny once more. I told her and explained that family is far more important than love; for they gave you everything you needed and nurtured you since you were a child. “You cannot easily give them up in the future for this,” I told her with mere authority. She then admitted that she hadn’t realized the circumstances and the peril in her decision, and so she immediately agreed. I was uttering these things because I had learned my lessons about the importance of family and the relationships you had to replenish once in a while with them. They are the ones who give you true serenity; they are the great professors in your course in life, teaching you the essence of all things. Unfortunately, I learned those lessons the hard way, and I don’t want her to suffer the way I did. She seemed so callous back then, but this time her eyes were opened to the truth. But I was concerned of her emotions, and whispered to myself, “If only I could hold her hand and tell her how much I loved her.”

To understand is one thing, and to accept another. I knew that she was in sorrow and pain that moment, leaving me scarred as well. We both had grief-stricken emotions when we were trapped behind bars of our own passion; tears were shed that night. The consuming flame of love, which once ablaze in our hearts, faded in oblivion; she concealed herself, and I thought of myself being naïve. My mind came to be a desolate place of anguish and our love lied in despair. Despite being shattered into a thousand pieces, I took a leap of faith and resisted to engage in a caprice, for I was longing to correct myself and press on for my decision was final. Acceptance was our only choice, and we had to for the sake of our own future and our soul, as well. We compromised to decisions we barely even noticed was there; and slowly we manage to find solutions to the problems. A luminance dazzled in the darkness, the melancholic ambience vanished, and hope summoned its promising light once more for the last time. But even if we had all the chances and answers we desired for, things will never be the same again.

Fate obliterated our love, something that was meant to be somehow obsolete. Yet the dance was a graceful one for our reputation was left untouched. Though we could never mold a replica of the perfect harmonies we tuned together, heaven gave us the chance to engrave lasting memories. Love is too elusive for someone to acquire all knowledge about it. Sometimes it never retaliates; it just lets itself be controlled by its masters. Other times it turns wicked, repelling everything in its wake and creating nothing but horrendous ordeals. Evasion to its awaiting trials is never an option; you have to refresh your morale to fight the battles it has to unveil. We may have won the battle, but we lost the war. It is not a matter of weakness or an ungallant character, but a matter of a destined fall. We could do nothing about our future; it is set and unchangeable. What we could do is follow the right path and do the right things; though it often holds agony and suffering, it would lead to a glorious victory.

And so it came to past. Our valorous love descended to an intimate friendship. She still remains to be the only person I truly loved with all my heart, and I know its something similar in her part, too. Images of our past still amplify life in my cellular phone, depicting what was used to be my treasures. Our text messages were somehow minimized each day, unlike the old times where every minute our phone would resound. The heartfelt intimacy our bond used to have fluttered with the wind, even the way we utter words to each other had turned from special to normal conversations. It was a milestone we were able to traverse. Ashes from the fire were swept; and finally, we chose to move on.

“You will always be remembered,” we often say to each other with a touch of sweetness. A series of laughs and pathetic conversations would soon follow afterwards. “Oh, panu ba ‘yan, single ka na ulit. Haha,” she exclaimed insolently but in a hilarious way. A minute before, we were in tears; now, we laugh and grin in delight. But we still are sincere with our presence; and often she would assure me the way she loved me unconditionally and she knew I did the same thing. For that, we were contented and happy in strange way I can vaguely explain. I felt prestigious in the way everything worked the way I wanted them to be; humming the melodies of our past gave me satisfaction.

We remembered the promises we cherished long ago. It was this time that we thought of some as too exaggerated or even too preposterously early. “If you leave me, I’ll commit suicide or die.” “Our love won’t end even if the world is against us.” “Wherever you’ll go, I go, even if it is death itself.” “I’m yours for eternity, and only you can caress me.” “You are my future companion for life, and for that I’m sure.” These are just few of the vows we had written on the tablet of our hearts. I told her that we need to forget things that were too improper for our immaturity, and she simply agreed with every word I pondered. “Please, whatever happens, don’t commit suicide for this as what we had promised. Just live your life to the fullest,” I quickly messaged her thinking that she’ll die that very instance (silly me…). I was expecting for an elusive answer. “Though it’s hard in my part, for you, I will,” she replied with sincerity but with a troubled mind. I knew that pain still haunted her heart, but I trust her courage in the journey she has to finish; for she is a noble fighter, able to do great things an ordinary woman could not. For now, my mind was filled with peace and comfort for choosing the path I longed for. I hope she’ll do the same thing, and I hope she’ll feel the same indescribable joy I felt for choosing my path. We promised never to dodge glances with each other and be in comfort with our presence, the presence of two lovers with a love that was torn asunder by fate.

Dawn awakened, and the resonating light of the sun brushed away the countless gemstones of the night, a night as black as obsidian. The air was the filled with the mighty war cries of the roosters and the music of morning veneered the tales of woe of yesterday. My eyes were eclipsed by the shadows of my haven. I woke up from the creaking sound of the door where my father would deliver my breakfast each day. I realized that I slept last night without a simple goodnight; checking my cellular phone, a voice of tender care in my serenity awaited my heart from her. A smile drew itself in my face, happiness overflowed within my cup. “I’m happy for you, and I thank God for He gave me a special person only a handful of people had met; and if ever you need me, I’m always here for you, always.” Her words echoed in the walls of my heart, and I wept for a while. I sometimes feel guilty or even knowing that it was my cause why such tragic things happened. Nevertheless, I did what’s proper, and for that I will prosper as well as the memories. I conceded at things I once thought was right, and in some other way, I felt a longing for chastity once more. Learning the lesson of “true love waits” is a difficult one. For this, I want to redeem myself and my lost faith; and so I kept a vow to wait for the right time, for the right one. It wasn’t because I was desperate to find love, but I hunger for it day and night at point of breaking myself apart. But now, I dare not to, for I reflected that I am not yet prepared for its wrath. My demeanor had been changed by my experience, as well as hers. My odyssey is not yet complete; I still have vast oceans to cross and mountains to conquer. But now, I am armed again for battle; insanity will never take hold of me again, for I achieved immunity from it through these things. Our love is nothing but a sacred relic of the old, lying in ruins and sundered by destiny; my once inamorata is now a remembrance of the past. So here I am, my body battered and scarred, but determined to move on towards my goal. The burning flames of love might remain dormant, but it will never go six feet under. I waved farewell to my fidelity and indulge myself to the truth I withheld within my feeble heart:

“Mahal kita, pero mas mahal ko siya…”