Heartbreaks Heal Heartbreaks

Two years ago, I found myself trying to make everything good for a friend suffering from a severe depression over a love gone wrong. Like what I always tell others, I told my friend that the best way to get healed and move on is by getting through the pain of losing. That is, getting used to the pain every second, every moment that you can have. It is, well, in a way, a form of torture, but it gives you back bits and pieces of your life that was shared.

It is difficult to do it. Just by thinking about reliving the memories can push you to do things as bizarre as suicide. Try to make small steps at the beginning, then slowly command yourself towards the bigger and more dramatic instances. Time will cover you until you reach that point where you can finally tell yourself, “I’m free!”

Happier Now

The fireworks have exited. Who knows how many faces lit from the sight of the colours? Who knows how many hearts jumped from excitement? Mine did, even for just the thought of the exploding hues.

Four months ago, it was a different story. I was a mess. Because of the ruined doorknob. Because of the busted lamp outside of my house. Because of someone who keeps on spreading rumours about everything and everyone. Because you can’t love me. Because you said that five days after you said you are ready to take chance with me. Because I lost in the game of love.

Now that the new year has etched its presence in everyone’s mind, the story has also changed. Life has pulled the pin of changing. Its old self exploded. I did change, too. Well, in some aspects. The lamp is no longer busted. It has become brighter. The knob has been changed. The rumourmonger is still there, only at the bottom of everybody’s list. You also can’t still love me and I am still sad over it. But I have become stronger to face your shadow.

I am happier now. I believe that you are the memory I need to keep and remind me that life, indeed, is worth living for. I believe that the thought of you can push me everyday to strive harder, achieve my dreams, eventually become a better person… and in the end, be the best person for someone.

Box and Boxes

I sat on a beanbag, armed my fingers with a cheap pen I bought yesterday from a street vendor, and turned the ruled pages I got from attending a seminar on biotechnology. Yes, science ignites my consciousness, the way soap operas excite mothers in the suburbs. I started with the date and the destination. I want to introduce you to my routine of jotting down the things I need to bring prior to any scheduled travel.

The list starts with what I should be wearing on the first day. My go-to combos are my quick-dry shirts and shorts. I never considered necessary putting on new pants and shirt. My list includes the details, such as wet tissues and coin purse. After finishing the list, I then proceeded to gathering the items and start packing and arranging them inside my backpack. When I travel, I make sure that I only have one carry-on baggage. Just one. No check-in baggage at the airport. Nothing to worry about.

It only took an hour to fly from Manila to Siargao. The flight was convenient. The interlocking pattern of blues with green and white was a glorious spectacle. Even the rough waves appeared calm and charming. The patches of brown in between the lush greens looked magical. When the plane landed, my heartbeats raced and urged me to go out of the arrival hall. I immediately looked for the motorbikes, or locally known as habal-habal.

The wind brushing through my face gave me goosebumps. I even managed to wave my hands at a group of kids playing at the roadside ricefield. I love the smile carved on their innocent faces.. oh, the pleasure of having good time with friends. They waved back. When was the last time I had a similar experience? My portfolio’s blank, I had not one for a very long time. The Goo Goo Dolls made everything dreamlike. I forgot my desolation, being cast out of your world.

When the Siargao waves showed for the first time, everything exploded in my mind. The water is the same as those that you can see in other areas but there was enchantment seeing the clear water of the island. I cannot explain what I felt. The reason was definitely not the coconuts. Not the motorcycles with surfboards. Not the sunkissed skins. Not the blonde hairs. Not the blue and green eyes. Unexplainable or inexplicable, the feeling you get is probably what makes the island a priceless tourist destination.

When I reached the place where I was booked, a foreigner in his 50’s welcomed me. He ushered me to the reception area, where he checked my online booking. Before I left the counter, he handed me a box from Manila.

I went to my room and anchored my backpack on the floor. I opened the box with your name written in the From tab.  Everything was there. The ring. The other booked ticket. The stuffed toy I gave you on your last birthday. Items that made you free of me at that very moment. The pin that made me the lucky one and alive had been reversed over and over. It’s a long way home and I had no prayer in my pocket. So I just sat there at the edge of the bed, listened to the souls in the machine and flooded myself with the Boxes.

The Zen Stones at the End of the Cave

Smile was all over my face. I couldn’t decide what book to buy for you. I thought that the two books are good for you to read. I tried looking for a third option. But I ended up buying three books. After paying for the three paperbacks, I added the wrapped books inside the eco-bag with food items. A small bag of goodies that I plan to bring with me on my surprise visit to you.

I sent you a text message, “I miss you, baby.” Then, I smiled. I tried to find a good restaurant, where I could have a good lunch. Three steps after the massive pillar of a mall, I saw you. Happy. Seated at the corner of a seafoods restaurant. And I saw a man took the seat in front of you, and held your hand. I froze. I did not move. For a minute or two, I just stood where I was. Just looking at your hands. All the rumours have become clearer. All the hearsay about you coloured their surroundings. It was only me who did not want to believe the people who have tried to tell me about you.

When I got home, I headed immediately to my computer to book a flight. The next days challenged me to get up and go to work. All I wanted was to stay in bed and stare at the ceiling. At 2:00 AM in the fourth day of my ordeal, I stood up, packed my bag, and Grabbed to the airport.

When the plane landed, the sky was silently crying, prompting a parade of yellow umbrellas to the arrival hall of Legazpi airport. People were doing a strange chant. I immediately went out of the building and looked for tricycle. I told the driver my destination. We travelled in maze-like narrow streets. I entered in a self-made warp of fantasy and imaginary life. I held your hands so you won’t get cold. I moved you closer to me, eliminating the already-irrelevant space between us in the trike. I held your head closer to my heart.

Everything was halted when a different hand touched my arm. It’s the tricycle driver’s. “Sir, andito na po tayo sa terminal.” I did not notice we had reached our destination. You have also disappeared in a matter of click. The next trip provided me enough time to get into the world of self-made dreams. Birdy and Chris Martin accompanied me through the hour-long trip. That time, you were silent, sleeping on my shoulder. I never considered us as the most perfect couple, but everybody knows, we are the team to beat. Eight years of happiness. Eight years of food, festivals, adventures and off-the-beaten trails. Who would have thought that I would literally be shocked in the most positive way when I saw the magnificence of the Bagan temples? Who would have thought that I jumped just because I couldn’t contain the excitement and happiness seeing the night lanterns in Chiang Mai? Who would have thought that I told you “I love you” while we were having egg-coffee in a café while watching the people around Hoan Kiem Lake in Ha Noi? I arrived in Sorsogon City with red, watery eyes. Another two hours of jeepney-ride to Matnog… and I had high hopes that Angus and Julia Stone could provide the necessary support to keep me in my fabricated world.

The sky was adorned with grey cumulus clouds. The gloomy world enveloped me. But you had disappeared. The music’s not helping. The thought of you, gone forever, came rushing through my sanity, like how the rain pierced through the clarity of our direction. The road played with my feelings. How the ups reminded me how I wanted to punch him in the face. How the downs reminded me how I wanted to hold your hands and ask for explanation. Everything must go, no stops like in the plain course of the road. And one bird banged itself in the forwarding jeepney. It must have been thinking something. Like me.

The town is laid-back. The man at the corner was selling used clothes at very low prices, almost making them free. The bakery still had high layers of different kinds of bread inside its glass cabinets. When I saw the small local restaurant called carinderia, I wondered what kind of viand it has and if it can entice a tourist like me. The shop selling dry goods at the far end of the structure seemed chaotic. And when I turned to my left, I saw a mirror with someone staring at me. He was asking questions on life and love. I just shrugged my shoulder and turned to the other direction. I knew that I was not yet equipped with enough strength to assess what I was going through. Luckily, a big map of the province kept me busy. Waterfalls and beaches made up the map.

Nobody would understand me going to your direction, like braving the waters filled with seaweeds that looked like green plastics. Getting through the pain, as I have always understood, makes you stronger. You do not lose everything in a break-up. Strong waves might rock the boat and coast you, but at the end is a calm sea. I know I can dock safely at a harbour, even with black feelings. Darkness might be ahead and over me, like a cave, but I know, that at the end of the tunnel, there is calmness and enlightenment. I know that in the end, I can peacefully live over my emotions, like how a stone could be placed on top of another stone to form a zen stone. Negative elements will definitely pop up along the way, but I know, I am strong enough to make another journey back to the open sea.

Back to somebody’s loving arms.

Everyday

Every day is a happy day. Everything is on track to have the maximum level of happiness. I am assured that when I open my eyes, all that I could see are the most beautiful things in the world. I am guaranteed that I can hear the sweet melody of rustling leaves everytime the wind passes by. That I can smell the sweet nectar of flowers in different colours. That I can fly with the dragon flies and birds over the green grasses of the nearby lea. That I can ride the waves of serenity. That I can build my world around you. Every day is a happy day just seeing your smile.

Every day feels like a Friday. That feeling of knowing you can treat yourself with an ice-cold beer and a box of your favourite pizza flavour. That feeling of seeing bright lights in unexpected corners of the city. That feeling of seeing you smile while witnessing a grandiose display of fireworks over the bay.

Every day makes me thankful for sunsets and excited for sunrises, just because I know that you are with me. That you call me to commence our day and send text messages to inform me of your arrival in the office, lunchtime at your workplace and time of leaving in the afternoon.

Every day is like the other days. Routinary. But I never complained. Because of you. Every day was filled with happiness.

But never on the day you left… and eight hundred twenty two days after.

(Photo: Sugba Lagoon, Siargao Island)

The Fading Pain of Christmas

Four years ago, the pain was real. Everything was so difficult. Beyond explanation. Her sudden demise during the happiest time of the year (we declared it!) was the real deal. The explosion of emotion rendered me numb and emotionless in front of other people. There were no tears. Everything was so blunt at the surface. No drama. No tears. I looked like the coldest among them.

Fast forward. The pain is still there. But it is already fading. The memory did not give me enough motivation and drive to go home on Christmas. It did not give me enough power to endure the long line of passengers going home for the holidays. Staying in the city was registered to my humanity as better and more worthwhile than wasting my time falling in line for a ticket to go home.

But I am scared that one day, I woke up with the pain already a stranger to me. I read from somewhere that pain is essential to remind us about the love and the life that we had with a person. It is a good piece of evidence that we are alive. So they say that we should acknowledge it and move forward with it.

I am frightened that when the pain is no longer there, I would no longer have the humanity to be kind to others. That I might fall in the bog filled with negativity. That I might reject everyone close to me and start living my life like a criminal in disguise.

Well, I hope not.

Image Credit

The Widowmaker

The road is wet from the rain last night. I avoided getting playful with the patches of puddle. So I walked like a guy who drank a lot of alcohol but still trying to get home. The petrichor, however, made me happy. I don’t know why I like it. But there is something with the scent that triggers my happiness.

As I was walking on the street from my apartment to the nearest bus stop, I heard a familiar sound. The rhythmic chirping of birds. It registered to me as if they were having a concert. Even the cicadas were silenced. There must be hundreds of these winged creatures perched on the branches of the trees towering over the pavement and a third of the main street for vehicles. Every summer, photographers and tourists flock to this side of the town for a snapshot of its beauty, its magic. The yellow flowers at the tip of the branches never failed to amaze people.

I stopped and listened to the song of the birds. I muted the roar of passing vehicles. I did not mind the tamed laughter of passersby. Once in a while, a flower is released from the tree and freely takes its last flight to the ground. Some of them coloured my line of sight. Some went directly to where they were going.

The serenity of the moment separated me from the rest of the world. I was there, standing with closed eyes.

I did not hear the cracking of a branch. It’s an old branch. Decaying. Ready to take its last drop to the ground. Maybe the birds were too playful. Maybe their density outweighed the holding power of the outer bark of the branch. And just like that. The sudden gust of wind broke the branch. The birds fell silent.

My heart stopped beating. Blood commenced oozing from my head, like the reddish sap of the tree. People rushed towards me.

(Photo by Mahmud Yussop / alltheplants4.blogspot.com.)

I’m Gonna Wear My Heartbreak Proud

Without you, there is no life in me.

Yes, I must admit, it has been a year but you are still in my system. I have tried to cleanse my sanity and remove all the residue of our story. But I can still hear your voice in my mind. Memories are still as crisp as a new banknote and the pain of losing you is still like a cut from a newly-sharpened knife. I can still see you in my dreams. I can still feel your embrace. I can still hear you talking to me about anything under the sun. And I am still here, waiting for you… writing about you with the hope that the letters and words take away the pain in my heart.

I remember the times when we were still together. I remember rainy nights of driving amidst a heavy traffic jam. I remember calm afternoons of driving towards the sunset. I remember our disagreements about one-way love and emotional strength, with me always debunking and telling you that you are stronger than what you think of yourself. I remember kissing you “good morning” and “good night.” I remember holding your right hand tightly when you feel down and lonely.

I remember telling you all the travels I did and convincing you for us to go on a road trip. But you told me you were scared. So we did not proceed with our travel overseas because I did not want to put you on the edge. And I remember learning that you had a travel with one of your friends. I remember realising that you must have gained strength. How lucky your friend was. I wished I was with you on your first travel because I wanted that piece of happiness. That piece of memory.

Oh God, I wanted forever. But you gave me the last chapter, the last statement, the last word.

I did try to move on, to get away from your memory. I did try to pick-up the pieces of my life prior to meeting you. I went back to traveling to near and faraway places. I did not mind the danger. I tried to find the fun in everything. But I ended up buying your favourite drink in one of the places we spent our Saturdays. I decided to go home and watch my favourite tearjerker films with the darkness, my towel on the side and my blanket wrapped around my body and my pillow.

That day of waking up not thinking about you is already at the horizon. I know it’s just a matter of taking the first step and steadily striving harder to get to it. I know there will be a day when I can consider again sunrise as the happiest time of the day. I know there will come a time when I can hold again somebody’s hand while whispering “I love you.”

But for now, I’m gonna wear my heartbreak proud.

(Image credit: Andrea Vallar)

I’m Sorry

Your friends told you to never let me go. That, perhaps, I was the one you have always been waiting for. At first, I thought what we had was just an ordinary thing, like how the sun rises in the east every morning. I did not believe in myself, that I was capable of loving you. But somewhere along the road, as we shared more happy times and intimate memories, I fell in love with you. Everything around you turned to red. And I grew crazy, thinking of ways to make time turn faster, just to be with you after work.

Being with you, taught me how to depend on somebody. I learned, for the first time, how it felt to long for someone. That all those times we were apart, I was insanely missing you. But what amazed me the most, was that for the first time, I felt complete. I happily turned the pages of my life with a contented smile. My mornings were filled with thoughts of you. And when I slept, I had the same feeling of happiness, because I knew, that my dreams would be filled with thoughts of you.

You made me whole.

My love for you grew, with such speed and tenacity, that from a non-existent level, it quickly transformed into such a love, that made me feel that I can’t live a day without you. You brought me to new places, showed me new things, and defined love for me.

But, like the fall of the Roman Empire, what we had was destined to be crushed to the ground. While my love was flying up in the sky, your love proceeded to the opposite direction, slowly plummeting into a bottomless abyss. I knew, in my heart, I did something wrong along the way. And it still hurts to think, that I failed to meet your expectations −how I disappointed you.

I’m sorry for all the things that I fell short of. I had shortcomings. I should have been easier to read, more vocal of my insecurities. I shouldn’t have let jealousy overpowered me. I should have said “I love you” during those times you needed my reassurance the most. I’m sorry for my weakness, that I did not stay strong, like how you wanted me to.

Now that you are happy with someone else, I want to say goodbye to us. I love you, with every fiber of my being,  but I don’t want to hold my hopes high for a life with you. That vision of us I had before, is now a faraway, fuzzy dream, a dim and flickering hope, destined to fade away into ash. I know that dark days are now on cue. And that depression is on the line for me again. But it’s okay, I will try to get through the pain and move on, no matter how long the healing will take.

(Thank you, Rod Calzado Jr, for editing the article.) Photo taken at the topmost porch of the Shwesandaw Temple in Bagan, Myanmar.

My Heart Is A Blackhole

The rooster took the centre stage. It stood, raised his head and commenced yelling amidst the silence of the dawn. Its sound ripped the ears of the village because the other roosters soon started doing their own screaming. The event was well-received. People got up and offered standing ovation. Each villager picked up the pace and caressed the dark surroundings with their own starter task.

“Wake up, Ben. We have to go.” His voice cut through my consciousness. I slowly opened my eyes and figured out the images in front of me. I reached out for my eyeglasses usually placed at a small bedside table. I got out of my bed and started prepping up. We were scheduled to go to the city to buy supplies for the whole week. Activities like these make me forget what I am really going through.

Argh! The pain that I need to forget.. the pricks of loneliness that I need to ignore. It has been two weeks since I arrived at this small village in the mountain. I volunteered to be part of a literacy program of a non-government organisation. The group goes to far-flung areas and teach the local people of various things: English language, disaster risk reduction and management, livelihood and income-generation, and others.

Volunteers are not required to go to the city and buy supplies. The host villagers do that for us, as agreed upon during the planning stage of the whole project. But I insisted to go. It’s a Saturday and we have no scheduled activity. Together with the head of the village and two assistants, we walked up and down the hills and mountains to get to the city.

At the end of the trail after six mountains, we were greeted by a dirt road. People wait here for the local buses and jeepneys.

This is the first time I am going back to the city after two weeks in the mountain. Sometimes, you reach that point when you crave for a little chaos to get your sanity back from being secluded and monotonous. For me, I need to do it to break the pattern. I easily get familiar with things and go to that level where bad memories proliferate. I don’t like reaching that point where I need to deal with the same pain and heartache.

The noisy traffic jam made me smile. I stood at the corner of the street where I could see everyone and every vehicles moving in and out of the city. I was busy smiling with the roars and honks. I never noticed that they had been calling me. I turned to them when the head of the village tapped my shoulder lightly. We needed to move to another place to buy the other things.

At the last leg of our stint in the city, I saw her walking at the other side of the road. Of all places, I saw her here again. What is she doing here? A sight of her brought back everything to me. All the fear came rushing like a fed river. All the pain popped out like mushrooms surfacing from the ground after the rain. My heart became a black hole once more to suck all the life in me.