A SPOONFUL OF SUGAR d' END

I just wanted to be happy . . . . to be genuinely happy. I couldn't ask for more. How hard could that be? Juggling more than one thing at a time has its drawbacks. But what could I do? I'm just one person . . . . I am taking care of a lot of responsibilities aside from myself. And there you go . . . my life has become a toilet duck being flushed down the drain.

I used to believe in the word love. The overrated, sugar-coated, backstabbing bitch called love. Not only once, not only twice, I've been a victim of it . . . countless of times, I end up staring at a ceiling ready to crack my skull open. Until the time came when I became sick and tired of it. I've became immune to its ridiculousness and its deceptive way to draw somebody into a pit full of double edged swords.

But then, once in a while, there's this imperceptible desire in me that I so wanted to ignore most of the times, but for as long as I don't pay attention to it, the more stronger it becomes. Maybe, it's human nature and there's nothing to do about it but to take action and God knows what will happen next.

I thought that I could find somebody that would complete me. I wanted somebody that could relate to me, somebody who has sense and could speak his mind. My past involvements with other guys consist of a patchwork of unwanted and wanted qualities that lead to nothing but a second-hand emotion. And then, somebody would step into my life . . . somebody that I could visualize as a person that would eventually accept and love me from dusk till dawn. But my charred optimism would only last to some extent until I realize that I’m dreaming wide awake because I wouldn’t stand a chance.

As of the moment, I'm writing this because I'm sadder than a stray kitten.

Some people would be afraid to admit this kind of things, but since that I have been totally honest in this blog, I might as well share my excruciating grief that I so painstakingly try not to feel.

I WAS DUMPED.

For the past few weeks, I tried to figure out what did I do the last time that we saw each other. Because the communication just died abruptly as if I never existed. I thought that maybe perhaps, he's just busy and all since his schedule in his work changed every now and then. I tried texting him a couple of times but all I got are cold and unfeeling replies. I figured I must have done something. But I couldn't think of any.

And then, earlier this afternoon, due to the depressing post-storm atmosphere and the fact that I spent the whole day just lying in bed, I decided to get in touch with him.

"Why do I have this feeling that you are deliberately isolating yourself from me?" I asked.

"I dunno rin. Maybe we became busy. And I read ur latest post and ure with Ronald na so I didn't bother 2 bug u na," he replied.

I paused for a while, thinking of my previous post in this godforsaken blog.

Then I replied, "Hus Ronald? U let urself be botherd by that post? Im not with anybody naman. Im still hoping that ud give me a chance. Bt I dnt knw if ur rily willing."

After a couple of minutes, the bomb finally landed in Hiroshima, "I got a BF na. Sa totoo lang, I got dismayed by your last post, go figure y."

At a moment, I could've wished that the earth would just open up and eat me alive.

But what else could I do?

I'm in no position to force myself into someone, who maybe, just forced himself to entertain me, in the first place.

And so I said, "That's all what I needed to hear. Thanks for the time."

The butterflies in my stomach turned into grey and coarse moths drilling their way into my innards. The happy thoughts turned to nightmares like sandcastles meticulously built in hours and just washed away by a monstrous wave in a blink of an eye. Thunderclouds overcast their dark shadows on my rainbow of hopefulness.

The spoonful of sugar turned into a bitter concoction that made me want to throw-up.