WASTED!!!

“Parting is such a sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night ‘til it be morrow.”
I’ve been a fan of sad love songs ever since. I’ve read a lot of love stories. I’ve watched a lot of romantic movies. I thought that tragedies only happen in movies or in novels or in songs or in poems. Now I know that life isn’t always comedic at all. Loneliness fills me with great pressure every time I find myself alone in this dark room… with no hands to hold on to… with no air to breathe, but she… I’ve learned to live my life with her… but now she left me, I don’t know how to live this life anymore… I only find myself stuck in this world with nothing left with me but the memories of her face, her smile and the fact that she left me without saying goodbye.
I used to be with the shadows of her existence… and non-existence. She existed but really did not. In fact she was just a name on that stupid mobile gadget. I knew for a fact that she was there but all I could do was to “know”. I would call her terms of endearment. I would call her late at night and talk about anything. I would receive messages from her saying how much she loves me... and how much she misses me. I would tell her that I love her in return. I would make poems for her… I’d sing her love songs. I would tell her jokes and she would laugh. But all of those we did in two different places. I was here, she was there. So awkward that we became that close even though we were kilometers apart. So awkward that the only things that connected us were two mobile phones.
We started as friends… then she became my little sister. I’m not sure if we became lovers. But I know that at some point in time, I fell in love with my sister. She is that simple, sweet, and loving little girl. She would often ask whether I’m fine or not… if I have taken my meal… if I’m lonely… if I’m happy… if she disturbs me… if I had a good night sleep. We had met a couple of times before but we only wave hellos and goodbyes whenever we see each other. We haven’t talked that much personally for we often do the talking through the phone.
Every time I hear sad love songs, I’m reminded of the past. I’m reminded of times with a taste of bitterness yet so sweet that I still could recognize the same old feeling. She taught me how to love and to be loved. She gave me happiness that I did not ask, but what I needed… even more. I was that lonely boy from the beginning of the story… along came this lady. We are like characters in a play where the antagonist is fate alone.
I will always remember Christmas. I will always remember people on the streets as they give fake smiles to everyone. I will always remember children caroling around the city’s plaza. I will always remember the lights that might have blinded any beholder. I will always remember this day… it’s special, as always.
I was standing there beside the big lights. People came and went in pairs and groups. I was alone waiting for the lady to come. With me was a gift wrapped with paper and ribbon. I waited for her all night. She told me she would come… but she did not. All the pictures of seeing her that night faded as if they were drenched in my tears. I feel like I was in a vault, around with me were bunches of good and happy people. I wanted to cry but all I could do was to sit next to lovers and to hide whatever I was feeling inside. I was no good that Christmas evening. All I ever wanted was to give her something that night but she simply did not accept it. I wanted to give her a warm embrace and see how it feels to have the one I love wrapped around my arms. But I guess it really wasn’t meant to happen.
Forgetting isn’t always that hard… it’s so damn hard. Learning to leave your old life is so absurd. You need to erase everything in order to move on. The bad ones need be put in trash… the good ones… you need to throw them away too. How could you forget a past that’s full of happiness? When everything that you could recall is pushing you to get back the life that you want to forget… when you yourself tell you not to be a child anymore, but you yourself know how often you cry because of a wounded heart… when everything in the past makes you cry, out of the predicament of falling into pieces, like a glass of precious wine that kisses the dirty floor. “Wasted” as it was coined… I’m wasted because of seeking for truth. My seeking might have gone a little too far beyond my limits. But I never get tired of waiting. Maybe if I could bring back the times, I would begin my life to the moment that I knew her. And when she leaves me again, I would never get tired of bringing back that same part of my life. Because, with her, I was happy. And with her, will I be happy.