Six years ago;
Someday, your sin is going to bite you right up your ass, your betrayal will be written down on karma’s list, I will have the sweetest revenge and there will be no mercy, yes, there will be blood, there will be tears, there will be misery, but not mercy nor forgiveness. I will take my pound of flesh and more. You will never be happy, I will be the dark shadow lurking behind you, I will be your downfall, the villain in your story, the evil incarnate. I will destroy you. Karma will.
I feel sorry for you, I wish I could do something to make it less miserable. I’ve forgiven you, something I never thought I’d be able to do, but I did, and I’m sincere, more than sincere. I hope you’d find solace in my words. I gave you a chance. I hope the world could do the same for you.
Hope ruins people. It ruined me. Hope deliberately betrayed my perspective which I tried so hard to create, it’s like standing on the edge of failure clinging desperately only to be pushed by reality, living through each day hoping and praying that everything would change, that it would make sense, that one morning I’d wake up to a better sight of the world, a world which is less painful, less frustrating, less cruel, a world that doesn’t closely resemble misery.
But every morning is not a start, it’s not a beginning, not a chance, not a blessing, it is yet another part of an endless cycle of decimation, a continuous struggle for change. Hope means weakness. Hope means defeat. Hope is an evil form of profound devotion. Hope is a lie, a fabricated excuse for deliverance. Hope destroys people. It destroyed me.
If only people would practice what they preach, then maybe this world would be a better place, far from what it is right now, far from what we have become. We sermonize the ways of mankind according to our level of importance, we all think we are better than everybody, or that we are too special to be mocked or derogated. We patronize ourselves too much by climbing desperately on our own pedestal of honor and supremacy. We pry on the failures of the unfortunate and weak. We covet what we don’t have. We resent our deficiencies by treating the prosaic and sane with malice. We are selfish. We are nocuous by nature, finding new ways of hurting people is what we are good at.
Yes. There are some who claims to be a manifestation of decency, of virtue or of probity, yet they can’t seem to validate their purpose. When are we going to stop hurting ourselves just to prove that we are on the pinnacle of the status quo? Until we ruined everything that we truly are? Until there is no more to decimate?
Serenity: I felt a sudden moment of solace when you kissed me, the world crumbled below my defiance, my nerves jolted , my universe lost its course.
When you pulled me in, I felt another version of the world, I felt a different kind of defeat, something that I’ll never be able to reminisce, too terrifying, too wretched.
I’ll take a step away from you, until this feeling turn into a dull persistent ache, and maybe in another life, we could have a chance, we could happen, but until then, I need to get away from this madness…from you.
Six times a week I saw him there. He was the first one to always greet me whenever I arrive at work. He is a big man. You can already assume that he is from Africa or Bangladesh because of his skin colour. His hair is the typical-curly-I-woke-up-like-this kind of hair. He was always the coy type – something that you would expect from a person who came from a destitute household. He barely talked although he seemed chatty around me.
Puso. His name is Puso. It’s an average name, a name that you could easily forget. It doesn’t have a nice ring to it. It’s not even interesting, but there is more to him than meets the eye. There’s something special about Puso. Not just because of the fact that his name means “heart” in my language, but because it makes him who he is. He has a big heart.
He worked as a janitor/maintenance guy in the company where I work. He was the cleaner, the sweeper, the toilet ninja, the dust warrior and the garbage hero. Not one single time did I see him doing nothing, taking a break or getting a snack. He was always doing something, whether it be polishing the windows or mopping the floor. He was practically a robot. A robot that needs to work; that needs to suffer the hardships of life for a chance to change the course of his future. I admire him. I admire his dedication, his commendable fortitude to deal with righteous people and co-workers who think that he is nothing more than an expendable employee – someone who isn’t capable of whining about injustice or maltreatment. He didn’t complain, he didn’t make a fuss, he basically would just shrug his shoulders, look down and not say a thing. He would just go back to what he was doing and act as if nothing would ever break him – no words, no insults, no judgment – nothing could ever rupture his faith: his faith that someday…someday…life would be in his favor. Someday…where no one could tell him what he can and what he cannot do, where no one would be discriminated.
Puso taught me a lot of things, things that I never would have appreciated had I not seen the reality of weakness. I will be like Puso. I will be brave. I will never let anyone violate my worth. I am not going to be defined by stupid and inane perceptions. I will never be daunted by people’s foul and callous judgment. I am my own person.