It was an odd time, that I am certain. Strangely enough, we had a rather darker interpretation of our youth. Darker shades of clothing, we had no accessible cameras to document our daily lives and we all harbor straight faces, thinking it was ridiculous to smile. I don’t think we really didn’t have much use for the cameras anyway because we are all busy being miserable. And even if we do, we always have just that one side of our faces being taken in a blurred shot.
Misery, I tell you, is a strange thing. You embrace it because there is some sense of identity that comes along with it. People know you when you are miserable. On another note, misery from afar is like a cry of help that no one will even dare raise or even notice.
And for one thing, misery is a form of guilty pleasure. We were the kids who used to feast on our fears, insecurities and antagonistic views of life. We wish for everything we can’t have, we hate the people who have it all while we hate ourselves a bit more.
We were the kids clad in black; music was our religion and our souls were restless from wanting. Those lyrics were our daily prayer; love was our downfall while death was our fantasy.
I was one of those kids. Sinister, always a little too different and out of context and has a world of her own.
I was contented in that small world that I have made for myself. In that small world, I hang out with rock stars, get validated, respected and admired. The characters in my mind love me enough and I was able to get by. In the confines of my fragile mind, I was allowed to be anything I want.
Even until now, I still have a profound hate of the world and of the people who are in it. I used to hate myself more than these things; but when music is your religion and you have seen more of the world somehow, you tend to want to love yourself and forgive the world for all the things it has done to you. After all, the world never knew. And in that spirit of naivety, the world will keep on doing the same to anyone who will find themselves waking up with that burden to live and get by with the things they didn’t even sign up for.
If you happen to wake up today with a burden to live, give the world a chance. Like you, he’s a kid not aware of what he is doing. Take it from me, he is the bully of the playground, he just wants to make it hard for everyone. I don’t even know why, but that’s the thing with kids; they do things without reason, without question.
Years had passed and on one random occasion, my youth paid me a visit. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I was doing fine. Apart from the faint smell of cigarettes and coffee and the occasional stench of alcohol, I told her I’m okay. I’m getting by. Still not famous or anything, just a bit fatter and older surrounded by papers, case digests, and leather bound textbooks thicker than the Bible.
She was disappointed. She told me she had never expected this from me.
“You’re supposed to make things better for us!” she cried. “What happened?!”
I shrugged and lit a cigarette. “Life happened. Get on with it.”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. She was disappointed. She was overwhelmed with emotion as her tears dissolved her eyeliner and turned it into a massive smudge on the corners of her eyes.
“Why are you here anyway?” I asked. “You’re the one who didn’t want to get this far.”
She bit her lip as she sat beside me and leaned on my shoulder. “Hey, how’s he doing?”
I looked at her and took a drag. “Who?”
“Him. The guy I loved. The only one person who took time to notice me and accepted me and in exchange, I gave him love; love that no one else can give him.”
I took a deep breath and placed my arm around her. I took another drag from my cigarette as it was about to run out.
“He never took it. I’m so sorry.”
She looked at me and sobbed, “There was nothing you can even do?”
I shook my head. “Fuck knows we both tried. And I’m not patient like you. I couldn’t wait anymore. I know you wouldn’t like it, but if I can kill him I would’ve. We both don’t like admitting mistakes, but he is our worst mistake so far.”
“We’re always wrong, aren’t we?”
I lit another cigarette. “No. Just with this one. You have to give yourself more credit. You’ve been a good kid. That may be is an unpopular opinion, but hey, what do you need a general consensus for?”
Silence came in for a while. All I can feel is her nervous beating heart. Perhaps she still wants to know more about him and probably that’s the only reason why she paid me a visit. I can hear the sound of the pouring rain from afar. I should be back to my books at this time of the day as life for me technically begins on the afternoon but I guess this unlikely reunion calls for some sort of celebration.
“What’s so special about this person anyway?” I asked. “I couldn’t recall anything.”
She moved her head and looked at me. “You really don’t know?”
“No. I don’t see the point of wanting to remember something that bad. Remember when you waited for him twice and he never showed up?”
“He missed the notice! He never knew about the invite!” she defended.
“Horseshit.”
And if all memories are like tracks that a DJ plays in a booth, the current and fresh ones remain battling it out on the top 40 list while the old ones come on after hours as fillers to the dead silence of the night or as a soundtrack to an unresponsive audience and bothered souls at those times.
I can’t recall how long it has been. Probably five years since. This form of myself hasn’t been born yet. Five years ago, it was still my youth who was calling the shots.
Whatever what was left for my current self to carry on from my youth was rather minimal. And even she is surprised that even the memories of the guy she probably loved more than anyone was eventually abandoned by this older version of herself.
“You know how he is,” she began, “Tall, thin and a bit scrawny. I saw him sitting on the corner close to the door. Strangely enough, the sun was shining brightly and there he was, being embraced by the light. He was staring at the space before him, not aware of what was happening around him. The roaring laughter and conversations of last summer and overpaid vacations didn’t bother him at all. And there I was, just doing the same. Only then, I am aware of his existence as he stays there, afloat in his own world. It looked like as if I have been floating about at sea after a shipwreck and I have been there for days. And just as I contemplate on my predicament, a piece of driftwood came by, pushed by the waves towards my direction and there he was, floating to the unknown like I have been for days.”
“I felt a certain sense of belonging. And I haven’t felt that ever in my life. Have you ever belonged to something or to someone now?”
I looked at the ceiling then at the window, “Nope. And if ever I did, I can’t recall exactly when.”
“It sure is sad to not belong, huh? It’s so lonely. I hate it that I can’t belong to anything. It’s just so lonely.”
I counted the last remaining cigarettes in my packet and lit another one. “We’re freaks. We will never belong to anyone. That’s just part of the bargain.”
“Why did we even wanted to be freaks? Why can’t we just be normal? Or average like everyone else?! Life could’ve been easier if we were normal and not complex. Our lives are a dead end cause. We will never get what we want and we’ll die miserable and no one would ever give a shit.”
She may be right. And after all, my youth and I share this same trait: we both don’t like losing in an argument.
Damaged as we both are, I am quite convinced that I’m much better than her. In the end, she no longer holds any influence to this state of being that I am right now. I am currently in charge until someone takes over once I die a destructive death. The same cycle ensues until this physical body will cease to exist.
Eventually, we would all be gathered in this hollow part of the body, form a convention and arrive at a consensus about what we have become as a fully-formed human being. For now, it’s just the two of us and for obvious reasons, we will never get along.
“You may hate this. But I take pride in being a freak. That’s why I haven’t disposed of it. And I know a small part of you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“You are right.”
“Why did you pay me a visit anyway?”
She moved her head, following the direction of the cigarette smoke. “It’s that time of the year again. I really want to say hi and ask how’s he doing.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have much bigger problems to think of rather than wonder about a bastard who never gave a shit about you and how is he doing right now. It’s over. There’s nothing you can do.”
“But-”
“You’ve tried hard enough. And you don’t deserve that. He is not the one. If he made you feel better about things then that part is already over. Here I am taking it from the part where you left off and we’re fine. Still miserable with a bit of body weight to swing but we’re going to get by. You have to trust me.”
Another round of silence took over. This time, the rain had stopped and golden light from the setting sun came and wrapped the room giving us some sort of warmth.
“I just thought things were that magical, so simple.” she sighed.
“They are. Not just with the things that you can’t you have. And we’ll never have him.”
She stretched her hands and yawned. Strangely enough, I can’t think of a way to make this younger version of myself feel better about things.
I can still feel that she is hurting, even up until this time. And I would be lying if I did say that I have completely obliterated such memories that she still holds dear.
This boy was a wonder to her. She is probably in that place nine years ago.
The warmth of the setting sun before them, they sat together side by side as they watched the sky as if it was some sort of performance. Everyone was looking at them.
“What a couple of freaks.” they must’ve been saying. And she was aware of this. She was so conscious as to how they used to look like from afar.
They talked about random things like living and dying.
Then they will make fun of each other.
I can’t recall for how long, but that was the only time in my life when my heart, being carried by my youth actually melted. I was unable to say anything, and there I was, younger and frozen in my own place.
We never got to hold each other’s hand and yet have seen each other’s soul through our eyes. We wondered if that time was meant for us; if our eyes had seen something that we would actually want to say to each other but we can’t because we only happen to be stubborn kids at that time. We were the strangest kids living on that side of the world, naive and irresponsible, all we ever talked about was how life has been hard without even going through it.
And now here I am, with my youth who is eager to know more about this bastard who is now closer to fiction than reality. I now wonder what would it be like to talk about life now that we have been through it.
I guess that’s not bound to happen anymore.
“It has been nine years, isn’t it?” she asked. “Have you ever met someone else or rather someone strange like him?”
It was my turn to sigh. “No. I guess I will never get to know how it used to feel. I got to give it you, you were genuine. That just doesn’t work in the real world if you want to survive.”
“It sure does feel like yesterday that he was the only thing that ever mattered in life- in my life.”
“I know. It’ll be better I promise.”
And all of a sudden, she stood up and offered me her hand with a smile on her face. “Promise me one thing though.”
I coughed and took a drag of my cigarette. “What?”
“That you’ll find someone better than him. That we will love because we deserve to.”
I chuckled. “He was nothing. He never did anything for you.”
“Perhaps so. But promise me though that one day, we will be loved; like how I loved him.”
I grabbed her hand and she pulled me up to my feet. “I’ll try.”
And just like that, she disappeared. I am once again alone in this empty room. For a while, I have been taken back to these small fragments of memories from the past, like how songs can take someone to a certain era, perhaps.
Strangely enough, nostalgia and misery when combined is humor. I don’t know how. One day I used to be a kid who only played with eyeliner, my imaginations, and my very own feelings. I fed myself with anything that can be destructive, and yet here I am laughing at myself after everything has been said and done.
Nostalgia and misery will be a part of me from that point when I sat with him to watch that golden setting sun until I probably cease to exist; until I am no more.
I lit my last cigarette and walked towards the window.
I smiled at the unknown and laughed at that bastard whom I waited for three hours until I cried.
That bastard whom I cut myself open for just to present my soul to him as some sort of sacrifice, some sort of present that he never took. He never even thanked me for the effort.
That bastard who listened to my favorite bands with terrible handwriting.
That bastard who has an infectious laugh that he can light up a room with a joke.
That bastard who was so beautiful, I bled and cried.
That bastard who never did anything for me but had always told me that I’m the only one who can fix myself.
Well, I guess I have to give him credit for that.
He will cease to exist, and I will continue not to care. Unless my youth comes and bothers me again like an 80s one-hit wonder- addictive, corny and amusing.
The DJ’s seems to be up to something tonight.
And yet I don’t want to change the station.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
