I. This morning, I’m on my way to the office and a woman beside me was crying in silence. Loud voices filled the air as people forced themselves inside the old crumbling train of Manila. I looked down because I’m embarrassed to see her, because if I looked a little longer, I will probably ask her what’s wrong and give her a pat on the back. I am aware of her chest as it goes up and down trying to catch her breath. I’ve been in the similar situation before to know that suppressing your tears and avoiding too much vulnerability is the hardest part of it.
II. I used to love sunrises and showering in the rain when I was a kid. And just a while ago, I wonder how I lost it. Then I think of you and your insomniac nights and your cheap coffee and your worried look. Maybe I’ve been preparing myself for this, maybe the universe is preparing me for you.
III. I hate Cassandra Clare’s quote in her book entitled City of Bones. It says, “to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.” It’s not true. I won’t destroy someone as beautiful as you.
IV. I’ve been avoiding going home for a year. I painted it red and it turns into an ugly shade of grey when he left. I’ve been chipping the memories off the sullen walls but it’s still there, mocking me. Last week, my mother put an easy chair near the backdoor. I sat there for the first time, reading my book, sipping my morning coffee and waiting for your good morning text. And then I decided right at that moment that this is where I belong.
V. Everybody told me a thousand times how cigarettes can do you more harm than you thought. What I didn’t tell them is that I can always kill my cigarettes whenever I want, but I can’t actually kill the demons that live within the depths of my hollow mind.
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