Verse XXXVI – XXXVII 2011
Do not think different when I say that I have been trying – trying my greatest to start anew. The ruination you heaved upon my soul that day was tended to immediately, though no decisive outcome entailed, no significant effect transpired. Perhaps then one may claim the invalidity of my effort and say that I have attempted no such renewal.
Nevertheless, I can fuel my argument with a single observation: you continue life in joy as if nothing had ever happened. You smile that same dear smile and laugh that same dear laugh. It seems as if you were impervious to my blight, so wouldn’t it be better if I ended it?
So I subsided…
This total despair has evolved – one may again claim – into a different emotion. I feel it unwise to wallow in melancholy when chances of you loving me back are so slim. I mean,… why waste the energy when there’s nothing to work for? Why stay so low when there’s nothing keeping me down?
These questions made me wonder the practicality of my actions and opened a new door.
Hereafter, I subside.
Watch me cross the line not unwillingly; see me disarm my emotions and lay down my blade. I acknowledge the victor – your love – with full heart; I understand there, indeed, be a better fit. Finally, I may say, I have buried the cause of my greater perturbation.
Are you intrigued, beloved?
Have you all the more wondered the sense in all this?
Simply put, I am not so sensitive to this heartache anymore, and hope it remain that way.
By all means Phily, enjoy your life!
Relish all the great pleasures it has so kindly supplied.
I wish – truly, I do – for your perfect world,
your perfect dream,
your perfect happiness –
even if I not part of it,
even if I may only remain as an acquaintance and no other.
This is what it truly means to subside.
My God, Phily…
I can’t believe I have conclusively ripped myself of this appeal.
I cannot yet say that I have let go – though, I don’t think that revelation shall ever be heard in my voice -, but I have weakened my perfervid love.
I recede in this endearment, for I understand there is no front to fight for.
I abate in this affection, for I conceive the unlikelihood.
In pure defeat,
I have subsided… I have subsided…
What comes to mind when she is portrayed through glass?
It is not her face that is showing, but her back, turned against me, turned away from my direction. This gesture brings me no amount of hospitality. I am left numb with forlorn.
How am I to react if my limbs refuse their mobility?
That is the reason why I couldn’t amend, why I couldn’t do anything to alleviate our wound. I carried a frozen humanity, an empty shell void of self-preservation and any rationale. You cannot blame me.
What comes to mind when she is portrayed through friendship?
It is not her eyes that greet, but her scorn that confronts. I am denied commonplace formality, and it is a hurtful salute.
Am I non-existant, tell me? Do I bear significance in your life? Rejections is a painful disease of heart, Phily, and it cannot be treated.
It is the worst wrong in the world, and you have inscribed it in my heart. Because of you, I will remember the pain of rejection forever.
What comes to mind when she is portrayed through value?
Oh Phily, you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Your happiness is my priority in this unfair life, and I would wander ’til the end of time searching for it. You are my all – all I have left.
That is why I cannot let go. That is why I cannot move on.
Despite your harm, I stand firm beside you. I will go nowhere.
What comes to mind when she is portrayed through part?
Phily, you are the book of my life: once that last page finishes, I am over and done with – the final word to an unwanted ending.
In return, I remain nothing more than a chapter in yours. Once read, the page is turned and the story continues, never once looking back for memories.
This is my sorrow. Tears describe what words cannot.
What comes to mind when I am portrayed?
I see myself. It is a reflection.
Tattered, disheveled, exhausted… Where is my order?
Dead, broken, bleeding… Where is my charm?
If what I see is reality, I curse reality with all my soul. I clench my fists and incite my voice, but quikcly subside in utter despondency.
It is directly reflected from the glass – truthful, not cruel.
And yet… to realize the impossibility and just how absolute it is –
I cannot find it but cruel.
What comes to mind when I approach her?
Expressions of hope, filled so fully with deceit.
Iniquitous, baneful deceit.
I can no longer look; I refuse to stare into her mirror eyes.
They would only reflect what had already been reflected before, what I had tried to evade with such effort but failed anyways.
Her eyes are truthful, not cruel.
If I tried to win her heart, the past will repeat itself and I forced to endure sheer misery all over again.
I am so damned.
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