He looked with such happiness, seeing the smile of the one he called his mother.The pain he was in seemed not to matter at the sight of the simple reason of her happiness. She was playing badminton with her friend. Her life filled with problems didn’t seem to matter ad the spark of her eyes eep on attracting the shuttlecock. He thought for a moment, why he’d seldom felt that way before. The past few weeks have been a complete trainwreck, and the onset of the days only prove that things are getting worse.
The new year didn’t prove to be much of a good start, the only thing worth celebrating is his acceptance into four of his preferred Philippine colleges. He’d come to appreciate the simple beauties in life, and started dwelling in the good of all things, but something kept him from being truly happy.
He was known to have priorities, misunderstood by most. All that he cared for at times, was this particular fellow. He’d promised himself to stop thinking less about him. But his heart deceived what his mind perceived. The more he tried to ease off, the more he had to let go. The usual conflict would end up with: “This is my life.” He would be speechless and would be left in a daze. It always seemed that what he wanted was bad for everybody else. The pain of trying to accept that this was the truth. His fellow had his preferences, and it seemed to him that he had no place in those “preferences.” He might’ve thought wrong, but as is his nature, all he could do was to brace himself for the worse.
The spark that ignited the sadness into anger, was a line coming from a much cherished colleague. “Stay out of it, we already have plans.” It was his colleague’s day, something he wanted to be special. He felt sore and numb, annoyed and frustrated. He forced again, a smile that told everyone that he was okay. The anger and hurt oozed down the sides, but he could do nothing. All that mattered, i guess was for everyone else to be happy. He had promised to himself to not hamper how everyone felt. This made him desire a break from reality, for him to be blinded, a freedom of sorts.
Through the course of the days, human nature took place. Frustration became anger, and anger was diffused. He did not know how, and did not know why, but he would look at those people as he raised his eye. He felt all bad, but what cold be done? He had to show that he too, did feel. He used to mope down, turn away and cry, but now his anger runs deep, rooted in fire. No one knew about this, how his anger would feel, but he kept holding off, blowing off some steam.
Weeks rolled by, and his work fell. On top of the other, it’s a worker’s hell. All he could do was to follow those, who had too much to do, apparently, by themselves. His complains withered through the echoing halls, he called for help, and almost blew it all. A part was now done, and more to come, only to find out, it was the last he would’ve done. The fellow who was cared for, by far too much, ended up disappointing him with a sorry touch.
The past few weeks, while tension was mounting, the hurt was building, and the words were climbing. He was afraid he did not care, at least only a handful did, it went on too much, he was nearing the end. This week he started rupturing. The decent wall he’d built to keep everything in, fell into shambles, into rocky pieces.
All he wanted at first was to spend time, with the one whom he cherished, with not reason why.
He felt odd that the pretense, he’d lay on out, may have caused this serious doubt.
He fell too hard, his frustration’s mounting, I want to say what’s on my mind, but I still am holding. He felt injusticed, as though he was ignored, or shut-out of that something, something he cared much for. His fellow did not beckon, and didn’t even lean back. He never noticed how he had been slowly turning his back.
It might just be a phase, but at the moment’s a riddle. He wants to disappear, to see not the incomplete riddle. For what he already saw, the apparent ignorance of his begrudged existence, he knew for a fact that there was too much going on. He chose to ignore, the past and the present, only in hopes of making his fellow realize what he’s been doing.
With patience running thin, and time drawing to a close, all he could do is to wish that he be remembered. At least once in a blue moon, there’d be time for him, that he wouldn’t have to fight for it, or openly want it. He wanted his fellow to want it, too.
He’s afraid that the remedy will come too late, as though he had found a more personal built. A colleague once too often, already taken for granted, has taken the stage to win his prize of importance. He still, though, fears, that he would completely forget, the fellow he had once, imparted all wit.
When will it happen, he does not know when, but all that matters is what lies ahead.
He hopes for the better not because he wants too, but because he needs to.
That smile form his mother, disappeared, leaving no trace. His eyes grew weary of his impeding condition. He felt no good, his body was in decline, as he lay back down, all the hurt on the line.
Sleep was becoming his anti-drug.
Apathy came as a cherished companion.
He had never written such a feat before…
