Runaway

I wonder, What can I hope for?

What if what I want is something that cannot be attained but something that can only be given?

Since young, we have all learned that things would happen if you strive for it. 

But what if there is no more room for trying?

Finally I arrived. After that arduous journey, I made it!
But the relief that washed over just moments before evaporated with the realization that the path is limited by a barbed fence, the future I hope for is at the other side.
The fence looked menacing.
The weather darkens but occasionally the icy glint of the wires shone by the lightning. It's going to rain soon.
To go back is something I dread. I would trade my life just so I don't have to go back. With a heavy breath I looked up slowly to the fence.

How high is it? 

Where would my dreams go if I am unable to go chasing after it? 

It is cruel for fate to flirt with our expectations and hope. The promise was that once I get there, then this curse would be lifted. I consorted with this illusion because no one bothered to tell me about the fence. I took a step nearer. Holding on to the fence, careful not to touch the thorn-like barbs. Shaking it, hoping it would budge. Screaming into the silence, hoping that someone would come.
No one did.
I closed my eyes. It was as though a dark cold cloud descended on me and enveloped me in distress. I hugged myself tighter, trying to offer solitary comfort. It was more like a useless coaxing to feel better but this feels like a dead end.

I tried so hard. 

I couldn't believe that it has all come down to nothing. I really don't know how to try anymore. I don't dare to dream anymore because they keep turning into nightmares. I stopped hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel. Now I'm hoping that the tunnel would just end.

The cold is biting to my bones. Looking at my hands in the moonlight makes me wonder if I have any warmth in my blood. They look deathly white. I snuggled in my jacket at the bottom of the fence. The tiredness began to steal my consciousness. I rested my head down, slowly I closed my eyes. I stopped worrying about the future, all I want now is just to not remember.
**********

"Hoi, get up"
I felt a sudden pain in my stomach where he kicked me. His words awoke me rudely from my cold slumber. Eyes fluttering trying to focus, I squinted to where two faint lights are shining. I realized they were headlights of a truck, so I know they've found me.
Glancing through the fence, I could almost see an apparition waving at me. The dream still stands there, waiting for me to go make it a reality.
"I'll come back again," I whispered under my breath. Impatient, he came to grab me.
I pushed his hands away, a little harsher than I intended. Then I boarded the truck. In the winds that blow, I stared at the fence until it fades from my sight. The truck continued on, taking me to the things I wanted to get away from.

Black Maria

"When will I stop putting these thoughts into words, praising love that never once cared for the praise I pledge? I should stop myself whenever I feel those words forming in my mouth, threatening to fill over my lips," I vowed to myself a hundred times over.

I stared again at the mirror. The cheap makeup could really conceal everything, especially under these dim orange lights. I moved my hand to shake the ash off my last cigarette, putting them into a little can that I modified to double up as an ashtray. I made a mental note to empty the ashes when I come here again tomorrow, it's full and its stale smell is beginning to get to me. It's a habit of mine to blame the ashes, even though I know full well that smoking in a closed room is what makes the room so stifling. But the smoke is the only one thing keeping me going. I can't let go of that.

Then I sunk onto the chair again. I checked my blouse. This should be alright. But it makes me think of red roses, something that I would dearly want to forget. But whatever it is, I think if he comes tonight he would appreciate the contrast of my yellow skin against the dark red.

My thoughts trailed again as I remembered that roses symbolizes passionate love. I don't know whether it'd qualify to symbolize my love: a thing so resilient that it'd come back afresh to haunt me whenever hope dares to flicker through. I suspect that the people I've given a rose to didn't understand the significance of the gift. They think me mad for giving them a rose; they always have a look of surprise in their faces and confusion in their eyes. I gave it to them anyway. But I never bother to cut out the thorns, as I bled while giving it to them I thought that they might as well bleed with me. Yes, it's a cheap shot: a bitter revenge by someone who's always at the losing end.

I checked the time on the old clock, and the hands are showing 10.00 o'clock. I feel like lingering for a while, savouring the stillness of the night. I went to the window and peeked, checking whether there is anyone on the streets. There is no one. I sat again in front of the dressing table, toying with the hair brush. The all around silence is both comforting and companionable.

Which reminds me, roses also symbolizes silence.

It is so fitting. Love and silence often come hand in hand. There is no need for bright neon lights and trumpeting noise to announce your love. If you mix love with noise, for me it becomes too commercialized, plasticized. No room for the real thing. You can't rush things like love or try to understand it. It either happens or it doesn't. It is either there or it is absent. You have to be one of those lucky ones to have it, and exceptionally blessed to have another person to reciprocate. If you are one of the unlucky ones, I'm sorry I have to break it to you but maybe you're condemned to hold your heart alone forever. This realization is almost always the pin that burst everyone’s bubble: the possibility that love can be selective on whom it chooses to grace with its presence. Call it what you want; luck, fate, or destiny. I’m done blaming things that are out of my control. It doesn’t seem fair to indulge in the blame game when in my heart I realize it is not that big of a deal.

Seriously, it isn’t. The fact is that not everyone is sprinkled with fairy dust. The ones who aren’t probably won’t need it in that way anyway. Love is not bounded with just one form but rather it could manifest in each of our lives in different ways. Sometimes it is too subtle to notice that the void is felt only after it is gone. Actually what we all need is time because love is already there. Not in the way you may want it to be, but it is there.

Yeah, probably I should drag myself out of this abyss of self pity and be thankful for a change for the time I’ve been given. But this may be only my idealist side coming into play. I like to lull myself like that sometimes, I allow my self to be swayed by flimsy hopes only to be brought down again by reality. This time it was the soft rustling at the door. Then I saw what I expected: a yellow note folded neatly in two, slipped into my room beneath the door. I waited until the shadow at the door to move away as I inched toward the note.

"Cancelled"

Just like that. Actually I was expecting more.

Well, I'm always expecting more. Stupid note. Oh well. I should be going on then. No use wasting more of my time here. I'll come by tomorrow.