I was trembling. I was shivering. I was shaking. I was so afraid until I wetted my pant. I breathed like a sprinter who had just finished his run. My heart beat so fast, I felt like throwing out. I sweated as I would swim in it.
I was thinking about death. I thought I'll be dying sooner in a such horrific manner. I was expecting something worse will strike upon me at any time -- I waited anxiously for the moment when my soul will be ripped off from my body.
It was not happening.
It was a long long wait. It was very painful, confusing, and heartbreaking. Every second that passed by was a torment. It was a real torture -- put yourself in the worst and cruelest and longest nightmare, and double it up -- it was so frightening and hurtful, I almost lost my sanity.
I started to cry when all my anticipation went against me. They had never took off. I was afraid. I was too afraid. My mind could not figure out what will happen next. I did not know what to expect. The silent had killed all my sense and wise and sensibility. I cried and cried until the tears did not come out anymore. I remember at one point when I was crying, I shut my eyes off -- with hope that when I opened my eyes, everything will be fine, everything will be back as normal before it all went dark.
I was wrong. It had never been better.
It was a total blackout. I could not see anything. I could not hear anything. My hands could not touch or reach anything. My ears could not diagnose any sound. The place was like a maze. I did not know where it was, how it was, what it was. It was a pure darkness, and an emptiness. The only thing I had was, my peculiar assumption, to acquaintance my restless self along the way.
And the breathing became hitched -- a painful and difficult chore.
The floor was as hard as marble. And it was a little bit slimy, resembling the floor in my bathroom. It smelled like burning promises.
I stopped my cries because nobody listened. I gathered up my strengths and courage into my veins, then I slowly stood up, then I walked. I walked like a blind man. I waved my hands in front, ups and downs, gesturing and emulating a blind man when he lost his walking stick -- praying that I could grip or touch something. There was nothing, still. I walked and I walked until my thigh had cramped, and at that particular moment, there was a thought crossing: I actually did not even know where I started, and where to should I finish it.
Foolishly back then, I shouted my heart out. I shouted and shouted so loud, to the extent, I had lost my voice, and the responses I only got were, echoes from my own grieves.
It was a desperate act.
I sat on my knees on the cold floor and felt devastated, and helpless. I was terrified, and petrified. My body was defeated. My efforts were neglected. My prayers were rejected. My mourns were mocked up. It was a real agony. There was no one to talk to, no one to listen to, no one who at least told me everything would be okay, and it was a complete loneliness.
I bit my lower lip deliberately until it was bled and I started to combat with my own thoughts and feelings. I started to believe and to embrace the truth. And I started to adapt.
And the biggest thing I did, I started to forgive myself and depart myself from the reality I once knew to be true, and I locked the secret up in the deepest sorrow.
I learned to accept an apology that I never got.
I was left off and stranded in the field of bitterness, darkness, emptiness, nothingness, and quietness. It was a crazy month, my manhood had been tested tragically and critically, I was vulnerable, I was forced to be alone, things seemed to go beyond my will, my boat was sinking, and I almost lost my faith. Everything happened at once. The one who I reckoned to be there for me had gone. I had been cheated by my own trust.
Amazingly, I was not holding any grudge over her or anyone -- even though I knew what was exactly going on about her -- I chose to save a silent prayer for her safety, for her new love, and for her happiness.
There was no one to blame. My fault, I had put her ahead of everything. And that was simply the best reason, the best justification I could find for her as she tore me apart.
"I thought you are the last one," I whispered, creating an image of her out of the darkness, "I mean it."
And there was no reply. Only silence endeared to my compelling confession.
With little air to breath, I gasped, "Perhaps, the hate had swallowed and snatched away all the fondness. And they locked them in the prison named, the stubbornness."
"And now, they left us in hollowness -- neither in the state of happiness nor sadness."
"For how long should it be?"
"Stick with me like a leech."
I heard an intense yelling from a mocking bird. My nose caught smell of roasting coffee. I felt burnt.
There was something had bitten my cheek.
I woke myself up. The trunk of sunlight was beating me right on my face. Seeking refuge, I sat on the edge of my bed, paused my mind from dreaming, and I lit up a cigarette. I smoked like it was my last butt.
Indeed, it was my last butt.
There was a weird feeling immersed. It felt like I just came out from a coffin, or in a confine space, or in a box.
I rose up and went to the window. I looked randomly for any strange thing at the outside, but, there was nothing oblivious that could capture my imagination.
It was some kind of a ritual -- we did something on a regular basis without having an apparent purpose for doing it.
"It's Thursday, Thursday's people," I murmured as I drew myself back to the bed.
Indeed, it was the last time I ever said that.
I hummed a song by Padi. Then I stopped at the bridge. I let my mind adrift.
My heart was full and heavy. I whiled away the time by faking the recovery, by lies, by hopes, but the truth was, in every breath I took, I went deeper and deeper in painful memories.
I pulled the blanket and I dived in it. Only God knew how much love had been wasted. The weight of my words, her words, our words, were left unlifted in my head.
The blue smokes from the unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, curled and lingered around in my room, and they slowly subsided, along with the yells of a mocking bird.