I feel this knot twisted in my stomach so tightly — a sensation bringing so much pain and fear. I ran and ran in the night where the cold wind presses so gently in my cheeks, to my neck and down to my exposed toes that it feels like an intimate conversation between secret lovers .Yet it was not. For in every touch that lingers and every step taken, I feel this dread inside me. It grows and it hammers into my heart a sight I knew I couldn’t take. I ran and I ran until I can feel no longer my limbs nor my lungs. The stones which lay scattered in the unpaved road feels like there’s a pestle grinding whilst my feet become the mortar to receive every press and turns yet I ran. I taste between shallow breaths a mixture of my tears and sweat as it trickles down my face where the wind could catch and dry it. It was not far yet I feel like collapsing in every minute it gets nearer.

Wait for me.

I prayed to a God I haven’t bothered for a long time.

Not yet.

I ran and ran and ran until I can only hear the blood rushing in my ears, until I reached what I have feared to reach yet what I needed to reach. With shaking hands and time almost becoming still, I reached for the knob. I opened the door and saw how I was too late. And in an instant, I feel my knees buckle from exhaustion, my heart with a grief so profound that it feels like the knot in my stomach suddenly became undone and everything I held to keep myself from falling now spills in my very core and there is nothing to do but bear with loud cries and anguished howls this hanging emptiness which now threatens to consume me.


Just like that.

How unfair.

And there wasn’t even a goodbye.

“Life is but a dream.” – J. Rizal

But life, sometimes, it’s too much of a cruel dream and no matter how much you try to continue it, it just becomes too vivid that everything else that follows becomes irrelevant. How swift and easy  it is to take away a life among a million others yet how painful it is to recover from the loss of such life. Sometimes it is not a page that you rip off when someone leaves permanently but it can be a whole chapter of memories. And then the book will feel too empty, too lacking and I guess, no matter how many years may pass, it would always long for that missing chapter it once had.

To my bestfriend, my inspiration, I’ll continue to be by your side until the storm fades into a sunrise.