Thursday, July 15, 2010

Still






I may have toughened up.
But in my dreams,
I still cry for you.


It was rush hour, I recall, for I was waiting for a jeep that would take me home. Under overcast skies and a sun defying the onset of darkness, I kept seeing this young guy passing in front of me. He was way younger, more like someone who just left the academe. If not for some semblance with someone I knew from long ago, I wouldn't pay much attention. He sported a skinhead look, fair skinned, and was shorter than me. A few passes towards my direction and the memory came back.

He was my ex.

Despite many attempts to avoid him, the ex finally saw me. Seven years since our first meet-up and he looked exactly the guy I met at Robinson's Place Manila. He tried approaching, but I immediately jumped towards the estribo of a passing jeep. Kahit sabit gagawin ko makaiwas lang sa kanya.

The jeep moved slowly until it stopped at the middle of a bridge. I didn't know the ex followed until I saw him catching up. With no choice but to face the music, I let him come close. He was a history I've never truly forgotten and there are so many unresolved issues I still keep until now.

Like a scene in a twisted telenovela, I spoke in muted words. In my head, I told him my resentments for what he did. He was merely listening, his face appearing consolable despite my rage. He didn't speak. There was no need to argue why our relationship failed. Five years. With almost no memory of a good date. With countless sacrifices of drawing my resources for his own need. What I remember more were the attempts to cover up for the emptiness. The hatred. The bitterness. There was no reprieve for what happened. Perhaps the reason why it is easy for me to let go nowadays is because I learned much from fighting; For staking my claim over a bond that has already shattered. I slept around just to get back. There were times I felt like paying for his affection after sleeping with me for a night. I don't know if I would ever find my peace. There is no way to heal the past.

It was already getting dark and I had to leave. One last hug was all that's needed for tears to streak again.

After all these fucking years.

Words were never spoken, but in our hearts, there was an understanding that nothing will come back. He will always be a chapter in my life, whose final passages will still end in a good note.

"Maalala ko pa rin kung paano ka naging mabuti sa akin." The exact words has escaped me now, but the sincerity of the promise remains.

No matter how tight my embrace was, disconnection was at hand.

The next thing I remember was lying in bed, still bathed in darkness.





9 comments:

blagadag said...

am reading...

~Carrie~ said...

Friend, I am such a loser. Hay... mag-huntahan tayo pagbalik ko, Mugen.

Yas Jayson said...

there is an old italian saying ' you will never forget your first love'

i guess it is true. given the evidences of so many blog entries about this.

Alterjon said...

Sabi mo nga dati:
"Passages are just milestones which reveal how far we've come."

If you'll ask me, sana sinapak mo.

Guyrony said...

Like a chapter in a book called Mu[g]en's autobiography, there will never be the same experience as such.

True, you can turn back the pages however, it won't be the same reading it forward again.

wanderingcommuter said...

minsan, naiisip ko, masyado ka kasing mabait kaya natatakot ka din magpaka attach. but at the back of my head, sana makahanap ka ng mas mabait pa sa iyo na partner.

cheers!

red the mod said...

In every passing chapter to your spirit's book, pages are torn sacrificially and in offing to those whose brief stay merited your attention. Despite supposed lessons gained in each unique instance, you fall on the next chance only to, briefly, subtly, taste in passing love's piquant nectar.

I'm sure you remember where this came from. I wish you well.

jericho said...

an unfinished past can always catch up with you. kahit pa nga nakasabit ka na sa estribo ng jeep. :D

soltero said...

well that could be the closure u badly needed. or was it?