My Answer Is Simple

June 26, 2009

I should be thankful to Red Horse and GSM Blue because I get to hang out with them most days of the week, day or night. I should be thankful to Marlboro Menthol and Dunhill Frost, my kissing buddies through thick and thin. I should be thankful for Technohub and Timezone, to Coffee Bean and its friendly baristas. I should be thankful to the Kamagong parking lot, to the beheaded sunflower plant, striving to survive through the rainy days. I should be thankful to my secret fire place, already littered with hundreds of cigarette butts and ashes.

Ashes that get blown away.

Smoke that flies up to heaven.

Alcohol that gets into my veins.

I should be thankful to Alanis Morissette, the queen of pain. To Kelly Clarkson, Nelly Furtado, The Corrs, and Feist. I should be thankful for these earphones singing to me in my sleep. I should be thankful to my laptop, to Facebook's surveys, and to Multiply's blog. I should be thankful for my guitar because it keeps my fingers numb and from feeling too much.

I should be thankful for my friends who go out of their way for me, who spend the time to keep me from being too self-destructive. I should be thankful that they entertain me even if I keep putting on this happy face without me realizing that I'm wearing one. I should be thankful for my students who visit me, who notice me, and who smile at me.

Songs that resonate within.

A job which completes.

Friends who'd stay until I'm okay.

But I am not thankful for the night because it is when things get too silent. So quiet that it allows you to hear your own thoughts and feelings. I wake up every day, fresh and looking better. I wake up every day, filled with determination to eat so I can gain weight and be who I want myself to be. But in the night, I question what's the purpose of it all.

I remember that one night I was alone in a motel room. I sat on the bed and looked around the room. I remembered how he would be the one to unpack the towels, the blanket, and the soap. I remembered how he'd choose the smaller pair of slippers. I remembered how he'd unpack our food. I remembered how he'd stow away our shoes in a corner.

I remembered how I'd always hug him upon locking the door. I remembered how I'd lift him as if we were newlyweds. I remembered how I told him no one else can fill my arms the way that he does. I remembered how I cherished the rare times he'd lay down his head on my shoulder.

I was alone in that motel room and I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw that I was alone.

People will question me why I treat myself like this. People will shrug me off because I'm emo again. People will tell me I'm a fool for choosing to be sad when I can easily choose otherwise.

But I have my answer ready and my answer is simple.

I loved.