He lies down in the middle of a cold sea. He is separated from most of the islands who seem happy being close to one another. They call him “The Lonely.” His face doesn’t really show he is lonely. It is just a normal, peaceful look with his eyes gently closed. But he was already tagged as lonely, when what he really is is only alone.
It is the usual morning, and my inbox is again full with his messages the past night after I signed off for sleep. He says the past three weeks of my companionship has brought him joy and taken him back to life. I don’t quite get what he truly meant by that– back to life. How can anyone be dead and go on with the daily routines? But he says for eight years, he has been coping with depression after the love of his life died of a tragic accident. That depression causes him to leave his family behind and wander in a land where he is a stranger and everything does not remind him of her. He has also developed illnesses that until the present, he is struggling with. Now, he wants to gain his happiness back and start looking forward again to a bright future.
She, on the other hand, feeds on loneliness. She had happy times, too. The peek was when she fell in love with a boy whose interest in dark-toned stories and songs she thought reflected her. She went to places that she had not imagined she would explored– with him. She left her poems, let go of her pen just to be with him. The guilt of it she tried to endure. She let her frail heart be contained in the hand of somebody she thought the coolest guy in town– for the fact that he discovered her. Until the expected happened. He found someone else totally different from her. But she loved the experience. She is again able to write pieces that she can, only when she’s at low. She is singing sad songs to the point that she dances with them. She’s happy when she’s lonely. Only during this state that she can be true to herself. And she hates it that loneliness is underrated, for the greatest writers, scientists, and music makers were able to create the best when they’re at their loneliest. She believes lonely breeds crazy, and crazy breeds the best works that change the world.
People have a negative feel toward loneliness. Everyone seeks ways to avoid it. In pursuit of happiness– that’s the mantra of most. But the lonely creeps in them almost so often that they already manage to fake it. It can be because of a painful past that they haven’t let go of. It can be because of the present that they want to escape from. Or it can be because of a future that gives them only uncertainties. For those who embrace the lonely, though, it’s their comfort zone, their fortress. Only that sometimes, they get addicted to it that they prefer to get into its depth that kills them, instead of controlling it and benefiting from it.
Life is better when there’s balance. Embracing both the lonely and the happy is seizing all the best that there is in life. And the craziest thing about life is living all of it.
I left him a message that I unfortunately cannot continue being his companion. She is scared to be happy again. And the people do not know that The Lonely island is not anymore. He’s dead, only that he refuses to perish.
(The Lonely by Christina Perri)
lately, i’ve noticed myself getting emotional.
i began this post with that statement to also warn you (yes, you, who have intentionally or accidentally gotten to this page) that, yeah, this is no different from the usual personal ramblings of some other rambly bloggers out there. so, if you do not want to divert from your good vibes, do not, as in do not, proceed. but if you still want to, thank you. for choosing to join me as i wallow in those emotions.
don’t get me wrong though. i don’t hate the universe. i may be socially awkward at times but i don’t hate people. i don’t smile much, but i giggle and laugh a lot. i stopped indulging myself in high-schoolish diaries after my first real heartbreak as a promise to myself that i will never again rant or grieve that way, or never again rant or grieve, period. what i just always tell myself is that there are people who are in deeper sadness or deeper poverty than i am in. not that i don’t sympathize but it’s a reminder that i don’t have much right to feel bad about myself. but we all know that emotions are stubborn. we will feel for the simple fact that we feel. and even if my occasional sorrow is none compared to the other problems the world has, it’s still not non-existent. i’m just trying to justify my being emotional lately and actually giving in to that.
i know i have a choice not to. i can do any activity that will require me to think of other things, to move, and to have fun. but even having fun stirs emotions up. not really crying. but usually, ending in that. happy or sad things, every little thing seems to poke my lacrimal gland. a co-worker and her newborn son. a predictable movie scene. a game-show contestant winning. an old woman asking for alms. and even those pesky kids in the street who want to grab the cold drink in my hand. worse, the emotions don’t choose a place when they attack. at my work station while trying to understand the English a grade-one-or-so student attempts to write. on the bus when i am standing and people pushing me in, brushing off my boobs and butt, and stepping on my foot. and even inside the restroom while trying to endure the not-to-be-mentioned kind of smell because one irresponsible fellow did not flush. but the worst place is in my little space called home because here, when emotions knock, i do not only let them in. i also entertain them by playing the how-i-met-your-mother episode where depressed Robin came home and Ted surprised her with the singing and dancing Christmas light display he had set up. i wish i had that, too. not Ted. the singing and dancing Christmas lights.
i know this emotional state i am in lately is really bad. i am not self-pitying; i am world-pitying. i would want to say i’m trying to be funny with that line, but i am not for right at this moment, it is creeping in again.
sure, i can blame it on PMS.
or maybe on the fact that i turn a year older today.
i left the office past twelve the other night. i walked from the building’s exit debating with myself whether i would just take one of the cabs in front of my way or brave the secret fear in me, head to the main street and wait for a bus, so i wouldn’t spend much for the fare. it was a holiday so i would be taking chances for some bus that would pass the avenue. normally, even if it is past twelve, the city is still busy. that’s why there was a little fear, too, that there would be fewer people, or maybe none at that hour, that would still be roaming around. even if i am used to going home late, there was still that small fear for bad elements readying for their next target. but the miser in me won and walked with my head up (i believed doing so would fool the hold-upers and the like into thinking that i was a tough one to get) to the main avenue. true enough, there was only one bus i saw as i neared the bus stop. thankfully, there was no bad stuff that happened. unfortunately, i missed the bus. the taxis where still tempting me, but i opted to wait for another bus.
and there i stood, and took a good look of the city.
it was sad.
the buildings here used to intimidate me. they were like six-footer models telling me that i didn’t have what it took to belong. everything about this place screams affluence, which i was not and did not have, and still am not and do not have. but then, i insisted and pushed myself in. it was not because i wanted to belong with or fit in to that affluent atmosphere. it was just because of that “feel” of the city. people in my humble and quiet hometown, my family included, still do not understand why i prefer living by myself in a polluted and noisy place like this. the truth is i find solace in the city. its madness drowns my fears, my tears, all my uncertainties. the city and i, we actually belong.
that night, when i was standing there, i felt the city’s sadness. it seemed as if i saw her tearing up feeling deserted and useless after a day of being used up and dragged to the worldly causes of people who were not mindful of her presence. true, there were a few cars either passing her weary streets or parked, workers who were either eager to come home or hesitantly walking to their posts, and couples seizing what was left of that night. but these were not enough to ease the city’s loneliness. she was used to the daily rushers, the honks and screeches of tires on her roads, and the dust and smoke filling in her system. and that night, she was missing them. what was only there was her lone self and her sadness. or could it be that the city felt mine?
i saw a bit of twinkle in her eyes when i got a glimpse of some fellows putting up Christmas lights in the middle of the street. they were just starting, so i didn’t appreciate much the concept this year. maybe, the city’s having a “white Christmas” judging on the only white lights i saw. good for her. i’m having a blue one. again. it has been. it was not supposed to be this year. but with recent events, eight months of anticipating and preparing for that “happy day” has gone bye-bye in an instant. it is amazing how one can be that full of hope and love for months and then, turn into a vase of emptiness in just one day of tough realization and decision-making. yet again, as what is often said, things happen. it’s not meant to be. we are not meant to be. he’s not mine anymore.
i saw some twinkling lights from afar and i knew it was my bus already. :p