In Between Sheets

Sleep hasn't been kind to me these days. Well, life hasn’t been either. Three weeks ago my almost unforgettable existence has been a little more tolerable and I was openly enjoying the changes that have come into fruition, I felt compelled to be happy and basked on the newness and that crisp feeling that all is falling into places. 

Until you decided to show up again and ruin the almost perfect harmony of my life I was hell bent to create and straighten out.

You and I and the history that was us. You and your perennial habit of showing up when I am almost over you. To put it succinctly, you have this built in radar that goes bonkers whenever I have stopped making a room for your existence in my subconscious, that unwanted guest that occupied and overstayed in my heart, the phantom that hovers above me.

The three little words you left on my messenger was enough for me to hide for covers; but then again, we have this connection that even the harshest of past thrown words would send us into a state of amnesia. I have tried to look at the what-might-have-been and re-trace my steps on where we have stopped caring for each other and instead, we have seen each other as opponents on a battle we are doomed to lose. Admittedly, we have our rarest of happy moments, those were the times that see each other eye to eye, but more than often we crash into one another at high speeds and are proven fatal to this fragile thing we cannot say and  too afraid to label.

You knew that I am with someone now and so are you. Yet, I can sense that you have not yet moved on and keep on looking for similar grounds, parallel traits that would be endearing to you. You were vocal that you cannot feel anything, regardless of the freedom and the selection of nubile females that is yours for the taking. You still believed that we still have it and you are prepared to bring in the big guns to get me back. You know very well what I want, what I have always wanted and you have laid all your cards on the table, win or lose.

I listened to your subtle and saccharine induced words. When it did not make any effect, you throw it your threats laced with love so distorted only I can understand the gravity.  Rants and rage was our common denominator and you toss this to my direction, egging me to fight this off; my coldness and reserved has thrown you off guard yet challenged me as you only know how. You are right, you knew me like the back of your hand and you knew very well that you and you alone can make me submit.

I would lie in bed knowing that you are down in my parking lot on this unholy hour, looking at the dimly lighted window of my room. Your message urging me to see you for a brief moment sent me scrambling on my front door, yet I cannot find myself turning the key and unlocking this barrier that would send me straight to your arms. 

With downcast eyes and my head rested on the wooden door, I decided for the hundredth time that we cannot be involved in each other’s respective lives anymore. And you know why. We are the best and worst things we do to ourselves. So I am choosing between the rock and the hard place. And you don’t get to choose anything. 

The Effects

Insomnia is back with a vengeance. This has been a tough week, yet I cannot force myself to take a reprieve from the roller coaster ride I placed myself recently. I walked and talked and deal with everything with a sense of normalcy it is almost controlling. Nothing changed in the facade I am wearing, I guess I am pretty good at this. However, the dreams are haunting me, silent nightmares inhabit my nocturnes and it is by daybreak that I can find peace. I started to smoke more than the usual, and started to succumb in my dark days again. If only I could have the courage to popped several sleeping pills to put my mind and body to rest, I would have done that. I had the urge to submerged myself in the bathtub and hold my breath for as long as I can take it.

Last weekend, I was getting ready to hit my yoga class and I was brushing my teeth when my gums started to bleed. I washed my mouth several times but the bleeding continued. I push my fingers on the wounded area to stop the flow of blood, yet it did not. I was almost panicking, squeezing a towel in my mouth, yet it did not stop. I grew weak by the sight of blood and gore and I feel faint and I just lay on the bathroom tiles in a fetal position wishing to die to stop the bleeding.

Well, I am alive, and my yoga class was cancelled. I still can't sleep.

Blood on Satin

I don't know why I run here whenever I find myself despairing. This page became a sanctuary for the words long over due to be expressed; for the suppressed pent-up emotions I had bottled up for hours, days, weeks, months, even years. This is the sole place where I can rant and rave and shout until my lungs bleed, until my finger tips grew numb, until I ran out of tears. Too dramatic, albeit true.

But you must know there is much I don't tell. The worst of it stays unwritten, not out of any sense of propriety but because I don't want it here. Because I don't have the words to make it beautiful or... uglier. Because I don't want the reconstructed memory lumbering in my head.

The last year was a turbulent one for me. I played with fire thinking I will never get burned. I was arrogant with my self confidence but very naive on the inside. Until something happened that obliterated my senses and until now causing me to stare blankly into space and consumed my nocturnes with silent screams and nightmares.

I've untie the knots that binds me with my past as I declared in my recent posts. But so often when a binding is undone, the wound underneath is still gruesome and raw.