“I haven’t seen you
for a long time,” he said.
True, I haven’t seen that pale face in a long time now. It
must have been years now; I don’t even recognize him anymore.
“You come to me after
how many years and you still have that look on your face. Don’t tell me you’re
going to cry again in front of me. You still haven’t changed.”
“I’m not crying,” I said; but my lacrimal glands gave in to
the pressure of the tears being held back behind them.
“So you’re still like
that kid huh? I thought you already ran out of tears? Or was that just you
trying to act cool?”
“Shut up,” I retaliated.
“You should be happy,
so why be so alkalinic. Tears don’t suit you.”
“But do I deserve to be happy?”
“Everybody deserves to
be happy.”
“Not me,” I replied.
No answer
“I don’t deserve to be happy; I only bring pain to those
around me.”
Still no answer
“I’m a walking bomb waiting to explode. I’m a danger to
myself and everyone around me.”
Still no answer
“I’m a virus, corrupting every system that gets near me. I’m
not fit to exist.”
To this he finally spoke. His voice was stern, and
conviction filled each and every word. He was not angry, but his voice trembled
from an unspeakable emotion. Was it pity? Was it fear? Even he did not know.
“Don’t make me laugh.
You never grow up do you? You’re still as immature as ever. Always going on
about how sick you are. How terrible you are. Stop whining”
No answer
“You are always
harping about how you make everyone sad. Grow up, not everyone can please
everyone.”
Still no answer
“Do you think that
everything that happens is your fault? And even if it is, then you don’t have to
mope around about it. Find the solution yourself. Fix the problem yourself.”
Still no answer
“You’re still
ego-centric. You still think that the whole world revolves around you. You
still have that God-complex that you project so as to hide the fact that you
feel inferior to everybody else. It’s always about you. Your sadness, your
pain.”
“I didn’t say tha..”
“But it’s the
subliminal text underneath all your rants. Come look at me, I am in pain. I’m a
martyr for I think of everybody else. I’ll sacrifice my happiness for the
benefit of others..”
“But..”
“Grow up, the world
doesn’t revolve around you.”
At this I begin to get mad.
“Shut up…”
“So you thin by shying
away from everything, by retreating behind your walls your safe from all the
pain?”
“Shut up!”
”Face the pain. Be a
man, and find the solution. If they hate you for it then so be it. At least you
did the right thing. But you. You are a coward. So full of that worthless
emotion called fear. This is why you were beaten. This is why you were hated.
This is…”
“SHUT UP!!!”
And I finally find myself on my feet, standing up, seeing
him face to face. My hands balled up into a fist; my knuckles turning white. My
face flushing red, I feel the fury throbbing in my temples.
“What? So I finally
made you mad? I finally hit a nerve? Or are you just going to cry there like a
baby?” he said in between that half-smile forming on his pale lips. He’s
smirking at me; like he was taunting me.
I couldn’t move. I was rooted at the spot. The tension in
the air is palpable; it’s almost hard to breathe in it. Or maybe it’s just me
having a hard time to catch my breath, angry and confused that I was. I want to
punch him. Scream at him.
But I didn’t.
Because somewhere in the bowels of my mind I knew that what
he was….
“correct aren’t I? I
am right. And you know it too. You realize it don’t you? You know what you have
to do.”
“Do I really deserve to be happy?”
“Everybody deserves to
be happy.”
“Even me?”
“Happiness is a gift
given to us because we are alive. It does not matter who we are or what we did.
We all deserve to be happy; we all want to be happy, even you.” He was no
longer smirking, but he was smiling genuinely. His features suddenly became
softer; he looked younger. His long hair parted at the danced as the wind
played with it. His cheeks were now reddening, his chinky eyes are slowly
becoming alive, and no longer the cold, empty sockets that faced me.
I chuckled at scenario. There he is treating me like a kid
and acting the grown-up once again. He always had more sense, that’s why I come
here. That’s why I came here.
I turned away from him and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
he asked. In my mind’s eye I know that he also has his back towards me.
“To fix things.”
“And if that doesn’t
work?”
“Then I’ll find a solution.”
My pale hands grasped the cold doorknob, I turned back to
look at the old dishelved room. There were cabinets on the farthest side of the
room to my left, with tons of forgotten books waiting to be opened. To the other
side lies a giant, closed cabinet that I have never thought of opening. “Maybe
someday I will,” I said.
And to the middle of the room—just as sunlight came flooding
in through the large circular window in the ceiling, illuminating the large
purple sofa facing a large full length mirror—I looked back to where I stood a
moment ago.
And there he stood also, with his hands to the door, looking
back at me.
