All was well. At least that is what it looked like. The house felt like how it usually feels like; normal for the best part but not so nice for the worst. Why would she even have the nerve to utter such things? Oh well. Let her mind spit it all out. What else can we do about them anyway.
The house is “home.” It can be home. Especially for her who practically grew up there. The walls and ceilings were witnesses to all those twisted nights and lazy days. That day when she fell and rolled over the stairs until she met the ground with no injuries… That one night her aunt kicked her multiple times and woke up her parents… The times she regretted not actually punching her aunt when she was accused that she was about to… The day when her brother threw an empty pitcher to her ankle because he wanted things his way… The times actually had fun with her brothers back in their room and it was almost dinner time. Every nook and cranny of that house saw and partook a role in her life but none of those involved “movement.”
For tonight, maybe she wanted to forget what she had to endure to keep her house home. For this night, this one lazy day that passed had to just… be. It had to just happen. It had to happen even though against her will “to do something and make the house home.”
And by doing something, she did nothing as much as she wanted to make the most out of that. But since it was against her will, she could not make of anything out of the nothing she has done.
She taught me how.
She taught me “now”
And how I will survive what’s to come.
She brought me life.
She brought me knife.
To prune the weeds and all that’s useless.
She got me fire.
She got me higher.
Atop the mountains unreachable.
She would not lie.
She—(Well, she would die).
And I learned everything I need.
She’s a personification.
She’s a manifestation.
Of love and wicked but mostly magic.
This day marks the day that I was set free. Shackles left me wounded though. And as I forced myself to move on, I found myself healing my cuts with antiseptic which stung me like hell. For quite some time, I believed I’d have to stay there forever. Except, forever did not exist in such context.
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to remind you that you deserve so much more than being mistreated. You deserve to evolve to a better version of you. Everyday is a puzzle piece that would complete you so make it count. You always have a choice. There is always a way even when you least expect, wish and hope for it.
…and that has been me being sappy and feeling surreal about the turn of events for the past year. If I do deserve to be happy no matter how much of a bitch I have been, you deserve to be happy too. We all do. Choose that and act on it.
I throw you hurricanes.
I throw you dishes.
I throw you chains.
I throw you wishes.
I throw you pains.
I throw you tears.
I throw you hard rains.
I throw you fears.
I throw you stains.
I throw you years.
I throw you rage.
I throw you beers.
I throw you age.
I hold you dear.
He spoke to me like we didn’t come so far.
“Dad, where will we attend the mass?” I asked as keen as I could knowing that he wouldn’t please me with any answer that he’d give me. It was hours– maybe minutes before we would have left the nice house that was our home for two nights. Not that I didn’t want to leave but I wanted to stay.
“By afternoon maybe,” he said as he busily tended for his car that stood there in the cold morning. He glided his cloth from front and back and side to side. He didn’t even look at me. “Your mom and I still have a meeting at your TIto Ed’s. I don’t think your brothers would want to stay there anyway and that’ll take long.”
My mind wandered off thinking of ways to make the most of my remaining time being here up north. It’s a prvilege to be back here after a long, long while. And it sucks so bad that I would have to go home anytime soon. I will miss the nicely limited view of the outside from the window in the room. The cold of the air feels alien to me like I really am somewhere else apart from the world that I live in which is mostly pressure and creeping demons of all shapes and forms. I like the desk here; it has become my little corner here where I can just feel isolated in a way that I wouldn’t have to feel lonely but alone. Everything that is not nonexistent in my own little corner back home, I will miss them.
I wiped my nose with my bare fingers trying to shoo the lingering sniffles in my system. “We might go home first,” said my father catching me wipe my nose. My eyes caught his for a bit and as expected, I put up an emotionless face,
I only said “okay” to cut off the bland conversation and go on with my plan to make my remaining holiday time worth while– except it is impossible.
Not that I didn’t want to leave, I just wanted to stay for a little longer because I know that the hours that keep me away from my nightmares make me content even for a while. But my father made it seem like I’m not so far away after all. And the fear crept into my nerves while it sat there feeling nothing for two nights. For a moment, it changed. And now I am scared again.
She entered the room again after she tried pacifying the little boy. The crying finally subsided as soon as her mom took over the baby that suddenly exploded like a time bomb. He let out a cry that everyone in the house that night felt the need to calm him down. But it’s over now.
So she sat down by her desk where all of her knick-knacks stood staring at her. One by one, the objects seem to stare for too long and seemed like they were waiting for the girl to pick them up and put them to use. Except it is obvious that she would only keep tinkering one of them: her tablet.
Well, as expected, she did. She checked for any update of any kind there might be. None that she was keen to be waiting for came to appease her. None of what she hoped to come up was there. None.
The seemingly blank night continued as the creaking and the chirping of the crickets endlessly hummed. Perhaps her mind seemed blank longing for someting that wouldn’t come. But none of these say that she was genuinely content.
Don’t kiss me in the dark.
Don’t steal away the spark.
Though it does not part me
from you whom I love so dearly,
I like to keep things still.
Just keep my hand at will.
I like the dark as it should be;
For the light becomes none but we
I like you to be you as I am I.
Though we never fail to try
Keeping things as they come
And letting them steal us
Away from the world that was,
From the song that we hum.
Trace my hand like a treasure map.
Find me in every line that you touch.
Let it lead you to me as you journey through.
Perchance that says ‘I love you’
Even without me kissing you.