The Interaction . . .
Its winter, the cold, dark nights came crashing into my guts of unfilled curtain; sadness broke my heart and loneliness filled every bit of veins that made me alive. Ah, the feeling of disparity and confusion drowns my heart into the open sea of dissolution and disappointment: the love that was lost, found and GONE.
October 2007, the last solitude I had came as if the antagonist had his last bullet for vengeance; the undying desires to break lose from authority. As I came close to what they call MATURITY, I came to realize that life has its own way of breaking to you both good news and bad news. Unique as it may seem, but for happy-go-lucky people, its nothing. Oh! The shallow minds of dead people, screaming, begging to be born again. When will they ever learn? How will they explain luck? Why do they act this way? So much of my emotional distress, it was this time that I went out of what we call “spiritual training”. Yes, I strived, discerned and manifested holiness which was not rightfully mine: a seminarian. Ever since I was a little boy, I had always been so fascinated by the authority priests have. You may call me wicked, but it’s an honest sin for ordinary kids like me. For a long time, my training went smooth and the whole 9 yards wasn’t really that bad. Till I realized, this is not for me. My parents went furious (because of my mischief and rebellion towards formators[1]) to wild after breaking the news to them. But parenthood got in the way and they realized, it’s not worth it if they force me. And MY LIFE began from then on; the start of my journey towards the wildest jungle in this entire universe: the OUTSIDE WORLD.[2]
A month after I ended my spiritual journey inside, I came to pass the greatest challenge all men could face: interaction. That would definitely include both sexes, I suppose. Coming from a secluded type of life, its gonna be one hell of a ride! My educational attainment had not really been a pleasant ride like what you usually see on TV but it has been worthwhile, made me see the better side of life, but I cut it short because of that decision. I decided to look for a job, by the way I was just 18 years old (imagine how young I was? This world has changed a lot!). It was then I met the oh so innovative and interactive world of BPO’s. Yes, I came by the world of endless talk amidst cold and rainy nights; the sleepless nights and the feeling of hassle crashing down on me. But in the middle of all this, I learned and figured, this life has more than what it seems. Thus, my emotional journey went hand in hand with the spiritual world: my sacrifice.
Getting in is the easy part, getting out is hard. A common perception for all of us. Etymology had developed its own term, its called failure. In the world of BPO’s, when you’re fired, it’s a big F. Even deciding on your own to leave, people would say “you failed!” But when I got in, it’s a little bit reversed. When I started to look for this job, it was hard, but when you try and yet, well, fail, you fall hard. Eventually, I got in and got a job for myself, quite a relief and accomplishment. And, I can live on my own! The sweet independence of a lucky guy; a drive-by, sophisticated joy. Temporary. Quasi-surreal. Imperfect.
Like any love story goes, it always starts with “boy meets girl, girl feels boy, boy asks girl, girl says yes, boy gets it on!” Well, maybe the last one is not really appropriate but, come on, let’s lessen much of a formality here. And so, there she was, dressed like a princess banished to a high tower, left there till the prince rescues her from the thick air of abandonment, deaf tuning of life’s imperfection, dwelled in blind light of egoism. With hair of gold, and eyes like light-brown almonds wrapped in morning dew on a lovely sun of May, hand woven from the finest silk there is; body like clouds strewn in a broad daylight. Oh, she was perfect, but not. It was also the best time of my life: the sunlight of my winter.
I fancied around her, always wishing I could hold her hand. She was really approachable but the problem is me. Until one time, my supervisors held us together in one team. We talked, we discussed problems (business problems, that is), and we ate lunch together, had our breaks together, and ofcourse, we GOT TOGETHER. I was able to understand how she was and what she is, and vice versa. So what part of the love story is this? Anyway, one day, I finally got the chance to ask her out. And ofcourse, you know what that means: girl feels boy.
There were a lot of things going on between us, and we had a lot in common. The distorted feeling of affection thrills me, and I can’t believe I am actually feeling it. Not quite able to understand what it is, but one thing is for sure: once you get in, it’s hard to get out! When we got out, we went to the malls, watched some movies, ate dinner and had some sweet conversations. A two-way interaction which I believe was hard. I got along fine, and I had the best time of my life. We called it a night, walked her home, held her hand and exchange goodbyes. Ah! The fight between happiness and discontentment: Nothing like a thug-of-war between two extremes. But amidst all of these I came to ask some questions: What was going on through my mind? What could have been done? Questions asked by someone that cannot fully understand love. The word is magical, but it’s also suicidal for people not able to understand. I got home, sent her a message saying: “I had fun tonight”. And the exchanging of text messages followed for days or maybe months (as far as I could recall…). Maybe I was just so blinded by the fact that when I am with her, time stops.
The next few dates had something to do with going to her and my place, Meeting each other’s friends and family. The happy times just won’t stop.
The interaction went on, like the river’s unending flow. We talked and laughed without getting tired and we felt forever was just a touch away. We were made to believe that it’s never wrong to love too much. Unparalleled risk, mediocrity phased out, always wanting something more special than usual. And I wanted to us to be special, and then it happened. And we went on to the next two parts of this love story, I asked her, “with all these things that happened, all that we’ve given for each other, all the pain and suffering we shared, amplified by the fact that soon is never an existent thing, I love you, that is the only thing I wanted you to know”. She looked at me, held my hand, caressed my hair, and touched my face. I knew she was happy with what she heard from me. I can tell by the way she reacted. Her mouth opened, came closer to my face; I can feel her heavy breathing by then, and words started to blurt out from her and said, “…No…I am sorry…”. Everything went crashing down; I can barely hear my self. The only noise that I can hear loudly was my heart pounding as if someone was knocking down the door to get in the room of make-believe. And everything went black.
The next day came; I looked for her, wanting to ask her what happened. While I was heading towards my cubicle, I started to look for words to say: what will I say to her? Should I ask her? Is it okay to ask her? Should I act normal as if nothing happened? Then I figured, maybe its better to act as if nothing happened. But I can’t help it; it was too much for me. I found my cubicle, stopped and breathed for a while. And it happened. The feeling of disbelief, as if I was in the room of make believe for so long that I never realized that it was me that went in, thinking I was sucked in that little black room of denial. Gaining strength from what I believed was a fruitful relationship, I decided to go to her and ask her why. I rushed to the other side of the floor, bringing with me the courage of a thousand soldiers from the great Persian War, and the mind of the great Poet and Philosopher. I opened the door, directed my eyes a little bit to the left, and there I found, my solitude, my Juliet, my song, my FAILURE, talking with both hands held at each other, with her ex-boyfriend. Everything came back from where it started, it rushed to the part where the black, empty feeling was, and words began to form inside my head: “Sorry…. I can’t…… too much…… deny… …. Like any other… …. Goodbye…..” And now, all the soldiers died in courage, the great poet and philosopher silenced, death came upon him. Nothing was more unbearable than that specific moment; it was all too great that it tore me apart. Come the time that everything’s gonna fall apart, I wish I could say that it’s all part of a big process called growing up as I was trained inside the monastery. But NO, it’s still all too great for me. I rushed to them, looked at her, glanced at her ex, and the next thing I knew, papers and office supplies were flying all over the room, my ear can’t hear a thing, my eyes were like a bull’s and my head can’t think. I went at the back of the office, pulled out a cigarette and puffed like there was no tomorrow. Somehow, I was relaxed, but I broke down, tears ran down my face, and I sat there for a long time, staring into nothingness, trying to see what’s ahead for me.
“…Why is this world so vain?
Why can’t I be happy?
Why are my choices all so wrong?
Why can’t I do anything right?...”
The INTERACTION: episode one
![[eLaine]'s Avatar](customavatars/avatar108339_18.gif "[eLaine]'s Avatar")
Originally Posted by wantingU
hala gi english man... huhuhu... kinsa mo translate ani.. usa ako ka bisdak na taw ra tawn.. hahaha..
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