The Dancer's Turn

The spotlight.

It was on her.

Finally, it was her turn.

She has been waiting and waiting.

For the spotlight to be on her.

She stood in the middle.

The light immediately found her.

She’s stunning. Beautiful.

Exquisite.

She walks gracefully.

She closes her eyes.

To savour the spotlight.

That was finally on her.

She danced and danced.

And the spotlight followed.

All around the stage.

All around, the light followed.

She finished her dance.

With a twirl in the middle.

She stopped. She waits.

Waits for the applause.

From the audience she waited.

In the middle.

Spotlight on her, she waited.

Silence.

The beating of her heart.

Her deep breaths.

Were all she could hear.

And louder and louder.

They vanished the silence.

She couldn’t see far.

The light blinded her.

The spotlight finally dimmed.

And slowly she caught sight.

She caught a glimpse of the audience.

No one was there.

No one was watching.

Emptiness.

Her elegant performance.

No one saw.

The spotlight.

The spotlight deceived her.

The middle of the stage.

All around, it deceived her.

The light, slowly dimming.

Gradually, it left the stage.

Before it disappeared,

She took a bow.

She took a bow and left with the light.

Darkness.

Goodbye Sad Songs and Isolated Islands

My iPod and book JUST got stolen. My almost 10-year old iPod and my friend's (whoops. SORRY!) mangled copy of The Lord of the Flies JUST got stolen. My two bestfriends during my commute every morning and night. Now gone.

Every morning, I listen to my iPod to drown all the thoughts in my head. Thoughts that make me feel like a zombie again. They say time heals everything. It's been quite a while and I'm still here. I listen to music to make the time bearable. To trick my head that I'm moving along with time. It kinda works because before I know it, I'm already in the office. Without the memory of how I got there.

Every night, I read my book while waiting in line for the shuttle home. I read to transport myself to a world where you don't exist. Where I am just living vicariously with the characters in the book. Where even just for a while, I won't be in pain. I can conquer the world alongside the main character and forget you. For a while. I can't read in the shuttle so I close my book and you appear again. I miss you and I'm back from where I started.

The next day, I do the same. This has been my routine for almost 2 months. I'm tired.

One of my bestfriends (human one) asked me, "What do you want? What do you want from him? Do you wanna be with him?"

"No, I don't wanna be with him. Not exactly. I wanna feel that I'm actually worth an awkward conversation. That I'm worth the effort. Because I couldn't handle not being his favorite person. I want him to wanna talk about the real stuff. The hard stuff. I just wanted to be worth something to him, you know? I wanna say sorry. It was stupid how I broke down and didn't explain. I'm always ready to jump off a sinking ship without thinking who I'm gonna leave behind. I did what I did because I didn't wanna lose him. But I guess losing him was inevitable." is what I should've said. But the too-proud-inarticulate-not-wanting-to-explain me just said, "I don't know."

These are the thoughts that I have to drown every morning and night. Now I don't have anything to drown them with. To the hipster robber who stole my 10-year old iPod with all my sad songs and my friend's copy of The Lord of the Flies, there is a special place in hell waiting for you.

The Ultimate Game and the Zombie Apocalypse

After learning all the rules, I have become a good [enough] player in this game. A game that we play everyday. Sometimes, I play as white and you black. That means I move first, then you, then me again, and so on. From time to time, some snakes appear then I slip down. At times, ladders appear and you climb towards me then move three spaces forward. After that, you draw the reverse card, and suddenly it's not my turn anymore. I have to wait. Wait for everybody else to take his/her turn before participating again. Then unexpectedly, you're in jail and I have to pay or draw a card from the deck to bail you out.

I have mastered all the rules in this game we play everyday. I've gotten real good at it. I like playing it and I know you do, too. No matter how complicated the rules are, we like to play. I know we both like to play.

But there are times that I fail to keep up. That I fail to jump high enough to reach that flag. That I'm outside the game and you have already saved the princess. All along I thought I was the princess. Your princess.

And here's the real deal.

Just so you know, I'm not ok. It may seem I am, but I'm not. I'm a big fan of faking it until you make it. Hopefully, I'm convincing. I think I am.

I hope you understand why I did what I did. I'm trusting your judgment and assumptions on this. I hope you trust them too. I'm sorry for having this particular sickness. Sickness of hating being misunderstood but hating (or not knowing how) to explain myself. I hate not being articulate. I hate hating EVERYTHING.

I hope you get the exact time/moment I did what I did. Yes, it's confusing, but I left clues. I left breadcrumbs for you to follow. I know it's stupid. I should've just told you everything, but I, myself didn't understand it. Or maybe didn't believe it. Didn't WANT TO believe it. I'm confident that you get everything. You're just afraid to confront me. I wish you'd get mad at me. But I know, even that, I don't deserve.

I'm sorry but I can't play this game anymore. I've been addicted and I really think the logical thing to do is to turn the game off. Is it? I wish you can answer. But again, I don't deserve it, I know. And I'm really sorry.

I hate that the airs that were once alive are now dead. I hate that I'M dead. I walk every single day a zombie convincing everyone that I'm human. Sometimes, it's easy. I slap a smile on my face and a loud laugh to hide the sorrow in my eyes. Sometimes, it's hard. It's hardest when I'm alone. Because then, I don't feel the need to perform in front of an "audience". Then, all that shit I smack on my face disappear. That's when I become a zombie again. That's when it's hard to sleep at night.

It may not make any sense, but I know in time I will become human again. But right now, I have to fake it. Every morning, I have to dress up as a human and cover up all this zombie goo. I hope when I'm a real human being, you'll still recognize me. I will be able to explain everything then. I hope you'll be there to listen. Please don't forget me. Please wait for me.