There is too much to be said about hitting someone right where it hurts. For one, it has something to do with the wound that never heals. A sore spot is always something that one just couldn't let go no matter how many years have gotten by. It might be a totally humiliating experience or an unforgettably painful one. It has to be, because how else will it leave a mark?
Other times you don't actually need to hit the bull's eye to conjure whatever is left of that sore spot, you only need to bump it slightly, gently, then surprise! It immediately begins to bleed. All the while you thought it has rested in peace, like an inactive volcano.
Today, someone hit my sorest spot. If there is such a word as sorest, but what the hell.
My sore spot lurks at the heart of my ego. I used to say that my ego has a life of its own. Hurt me and I'll forgive you. Hurt my ego and I lose every strand of logic. That's when forgiveness gets taken out of my vocabulary. You go straight to my ego's inbox and that is synonymous to going straight to hell.
I broke up with my second boyfriend because he devastated my ego. I have forgiven him but my ego never did. I was, am and always have been a proud person. To send my self-esteem spiraling to the the ground is equivalent to you attempting to kill me. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, I just totally went cold. End of story.
I may be accused of being unreasonable, but the truth is that I just always wear my heart on my sleeve. If it hurts me, I show it. I will not even try to hide it. Then I remove whatever is that shit that's causing me pain.
Life, for me, is simple. I just dump the unnecessary.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Good Night
Loneliness. It's silent and deep. It aches like solitude, but with a rustic aftertaste.
If you were here now, we would have been in bed already. You'd be busy with your chaos fighters as I try to sleep through the light and sound of it. I could, because I'd be resting on your chest, where it's soft and I can smell a tinge of what's left of your deo when your armpits are newly-bathed. Only you have that smell, even then.
You texted to say that you couldn't sleep so you went out for a smoke. And I swear I could see you on that deck, with the stick in between your fingers, looking out at the dark nothingness that's the sea. I feel somewhat comforted that miles and miles away from here, someone out there feels just as lonely.
I read recently that our souls could sense the absence of another, that's why when someone dear to us goes away, it leaves us feeling hollow, empty. That is why we feel this certain longing. Our souls cry to be near the other, to feel its presence.
I don't exactly know if there's any truth to this, but somehow, in my longing for you, my heart tells me some things might just be true, even only for me.
After I sent you off, I came across two butterflies on my way home. They have the same patterns on their wings. They kept on circling and chasing one another that they almost slammed on my chest in the process. But they looked so happy. Probably because they were actually trying to mate. I thanked God for the sign. It was a good omen.
If that was not enough, our African lovebirds just welcomed their first hatchling. The Lord, perhaps, has given us the blessing to have our own family.
I still miss you though.
But unlike before, I am not going to try to remove this sadness the way I get rid of pain. I let it stay. You are worth missing. You are worth longing for.
By this time, you are already sleeping soundly. And like those many nights in which you sleep so deeply beside me, too immersed in your dreams for you to notice, I kiss you gently.
If you were here now, we would have been in bed already. You'd be busy with your chaos fighters as I try to sleep through the light and sound of it. I could, because I'd be resting on your chest, where it's soft and I can smell a tinge of what's left of your deo when your armpits are newly-bathed. Only you have that smell, even then.
You texted to say that you couldn't sleep so you went out for a smoke. And I swear I could see you on that deck, with the stick in between your fingers, looking out at the dark nothingness that's the sea. I feel somewhat comforted that miles and miles away from here, someone out there feels just as lonely.
I read recently that our souls could sense the absence of another, that's why when someone dear to us goes away, it leaves us feeling hollow, empty. That is why we feel this certain longing. Our souls cry to be near the other, to feel its presence.
I don't exactly know if there's any truth to this, but somehow, in my longing for you, my heart tells me some things might just be true, even only for me.
After I sent you off, I came across two butterflies on my way home. They have the same patterns on their wings. They kept on circling and chasing one another that they almost slammed on my chest in the process. But they looked so happy. Probably because they were actually trying to mate. I thanked God for the sign. It was a good omen.
If that was not enough, our African lovebirds just welcomed their first hatchling. The Lord, perhaps, has given us the blessing to have our own family.
I still miss you though.
But unlike before, I am not going to try to remove this sadness the way I get rid of pain. I let it stay. You are worth missing. You are worth longing for.
By this time, you are already sleeping soundly. And like those many nights in which you sleep so deeply beside me, too immersed in your dreams for you to notice, I kiss you gently.
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