The Hapless Wait

She’s becoming restless; she keeps fidgeting on her chair while waiting for him to text back. She wonders why it’s taking forever for him to respond. But she knows him too well, he has a habit of taking more than eternity to respond. This makes her unhappy.

“I don’t care, it’s much better this way,” she deludes herself. The waiting no longer matters, for she has lost the ability to care anymore. She has become used to it time after time, although there are rare moments where it gets mentally and physically exhausting for her. But she learns to cope, to shut herself from the madness because she’s stubborn that way. That’s her personality; that’s who she is, a girl who is headstrong and frighteningly selfless when it comes to him.

“I wish he would say yes,” she pleads. She looks down on her phone again for the fifth time, or maybe seventh time. She no longer remembers how many times she has checked her phone for the past five minutes. Still no response, maybe her phone is broken or has poor reception. But this doesn’t make sense at all because she just received a text message from her friend not too long ago. She composes herself; she inhales and exhales to allow that little calmness to take over because that’s what she’s good at, waiting until she no longer keeps track of the time.

Then her cell phone beeps, the text message she has been anticipating like her life depends on it finally arrived. “No, ___________” he says. It’s a plain simple “no,” with some few words attach to it to make it a sentence, nothing else. She reads it once, then again, persuading herself that the text message is indeed from him. Then her world starts to crumble after her brain processed those remaining few words; her mind in severe denial of what she just read.

“It couldn’t be,” she says. She starts to feel her eyes stinging, her tears about to flow like a river infested with poignant emotions of anguish, grief and woe; she tries to hold them for the sake of her little dignity and self-respect left within herself. She succeeds, for now. She starts to castigate herself like a child for refusing to listen over and over again despite the unending rejections she receives. These have left marks on her already battered soul, yet she tries to be oblivious about the hideous scars he evokes and the agony he draws forth every now and then. They burn like acid but she continuously tolerates the stabbing pain like a martyr. The idea that he will change someday, that he will realize what a rare gem she is urge her to keep clinging until her heart is numb, calloused, and bleeding. She no longer has the ability to understand what letting go means or that she has become incapable of discerning how extremely pitiful she has turned into nowadays. Gone was the old her; gone was the boisterous spirit. It keeps fading bit by bit and will keep losing its spark until it disappears eventually.

She then writes hoping that it will ease the frustration and anguish.

Those sleepless nights when you’re begging all the gods to let you have that precious sleep, when you’re wishing you could just overdose yourself with sleeping pills to get yourself throughout the night, when you’re are counting thousands of sheep to hypnotize yourself to sleep, and when you’re thinking of the most mundane things to compel you to slumber mode; yet sleep remains sly and elusive within your mental grasp. Tonight is one of those nights when you wish you could simply let go of your worries, stresses, misgivings, apprehension, anguish, doubts and fears, so you can wake up the next day with a positive attitude to face what lies ahead. Tonight is one of those nights when your mind is fretfully restless and is hustling unwanted thoughts for whatever reason you can neither explain nor comprehend. Tonight is one of those nights when you’re forced to be idle while asking yourself “why can’t you just let things go plain and simple as it is?” Yet, why is it such a herculean task to do so? Why is it no matter how you delude yourself of being fine, you still keep coming back to this course of query and ambiguity?

It is indeed terrifying having these moments of endless blurriness and confusion devouring your soul when you feel like you’re almost on the zenith of purging your fears or overcoming those agony and aches life throws at you. Yet when nightfall approaches, it all comes down to this vicious cycle of reviving unwanted memories, waiting to pounce on you while slowly jading your judgement and lucidity whether you like it or not. Like an endless blazing fire in hell, these haunting memories gradually cauterize, leave lasting, deep scars, and consume whatever humanity left within you.

Then the moment you think the cycle has stopped, they sprout back again like parasitic weeds, clawing their way out from the darkest holes, resurfacing, lingering until finally devouring what little will and saneness you have. They’re sly, ceaseless and unyielding , torturing your body, your mind and your soul. You plead with all your strength for someone to yank you up from this emotional turmoil, yet the world remains mischievously stone-deaf from your distressing outcries. You beg until you no longer have the voice to utter another word, until your eyes are bloodshot red from tears, until your body slowly withers and gives up like a lone spirit abandoned in a barren dessert.

In the end, you try with arduous effort to forget, to move on, to cheer yourself up and to wear that smile to friends and strangers you come across with, but it still gets tougher and tougher to fake it every single day. When will it end? When will you learn to spare yourself the happiness she deserves? When will you wake up from this madness? When will you realize that you are priceless to this world more than you think you are?

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