Here comes the Dramatic Blow.

I bloom and grow forever.
But each time they use my beauty,
 like my petals; I wither
And die.
In quest for the answer
if you love me or not.

Photo by Joan Tan

I pour the sheer foundation unto the palm of my hands as I looked into the mirror to see the girl in front of me. She's the girl he loved. She's beautiful, smart, and funny; yet she'll never be enough for him.

"J" shaped, peeked from the bottle of youth. Reminded me of his name. Reminded me of what I am. Jealous! Definitely. 

Immediately rubbing its substance, circularly. Then dabbing some portion unto my face. Thinking that if I'll mask myself with even toned skin, a flawless and confident woman to his sight, or that if he sees how gorgeous I look, he'd probably change his mind. 

            I look so beautiful, I tell myself. The beauty that arrests any man's heart but cursed by not having the man that owns hers. I want him! Only him! Why can't I have him? He's the magnanimous knight I've ever wished for since I was young. He's the one I've always dreamed for and thought never existed. And fool comes after that ardent word that everyone claims to want to possess. 

They're obsessed, but only with her face. My face. The face I see through the looking glass. Too bad she can't feel the rising pain on my throat that chokes me as I swallow every bit of my stupidity.

Preposterous, why can't he ever like me back? 

My heart constricts like a heavy boulder about to weigh down my gravity.  I press my lips inward so that I won't be able to feel the redness on my chest. I always prepared myself for this day but always seem to fail. I looked up to control the tears building in my eyes. It doesn't help when I become aware of the disturbing pain I get from the tip of my nose; this sort of pinching that comes automatically after even after its bridge has turned red. 

Such memories I remember, when I was with him. I remember what it's like walking with him every day, talking to him, listening at his great stories, supporting him, holding his hand while he's driving me anywhere, and the thing I'll miss the most was looking at his eyes. His eyes that were small in pictures, but dilates when he looks at me. Those eyes that I don't mind looking at for an entire day. How he holds me when I am upset, how he tells me everything will be okay when it's hopeless. The way he'd caress my chin and kiss my lips when I am about to cry. When I feel his breath on my face, neck, ear, hair, and realize how we breathe at the same time. How our heart beats at one rhythm. How everything was everything but got destroyed in a moment in time.

I remembered every pain. Every joy. Every risk. I gave him everything. But he never appreciated such things I have had in stored for him. He is a Jerk. For loving her. For letting me go. For choosing her. For not minding what I feel. 

His name echoes in my head. I wish I were the one calling them every morning and every night. I hear his name again and I wish I could say sweet things to him, how much I love him. All that remains is bitterness, humiliation, and there is no room for acceptance.

Maybe he loves me secretly. Maybe he also wished for the reciprocity of our needs, wants, and love. Maybe he wished that I loved him too and that I could complete him. Maybe, he was just afraid that he could get rejected by me, but I would never have done it. Maybe he was just afraid that he could never fill my needs. But all I want is him.

He chose the better girl. The smarter, the thinner, the whiter, the typical girl. I am the one who can be his adventure buddy, but she was his first pick. I used to be the girl who's always herself--simple, witty, sometimes feminine sometimes boyish, understanding, unafraid to tell what her wants and needs are. I am a fighter. Today, I cannot read myself, where I stand, where I'll go. For how could I put my full attention at him? Is it such a waste that I served my wishful thoughts and future at him? Confused, shattered, and still hopeful. I know I am a fighter.

I squealed some more foundation to cover my face. A "C", her name. I applied the formula onto my neck, the one he always enjoy tickling. I finished dolling up my face, that's always looked fresh ever since. Only a disaster, inside, if this mirror could ever reflect the inner remains of me.

A "C", I remember. Her name in which he'll call. A name he loved saying from the start. A letter he'd always want to trace with his fingers on his window during the cold stormy afternoon, the same letter he'd carve on his tree on his front yard, the same letter he'd think of when he misses her. Not a "T".  Not a "T" that is identical with his "J", not a "T" he'd want to pair with the magnets of his refrigerator, not the "T" he'd always be reminded of his T-shirt that always hugs and comforts him no matter what, not a "T" that would trace a smile on his lips every time he sees. 
Too bad he missed out the T.

J+C. Jesus Christ! I need you, Jesus! I need you now. I guess I leave the rest of it to you. 

Yes, she might be the one she'll pop babies for him. She is may be the one to conquer his heart for the rest of everyday after their vows. She would be the one to share the biggest piece of his heart that I wish I could have. How better his children could have looked like with me? I wish I mothered his little ones, but I could never be that one. I deserve better once I start changing my mindset. Once I start accepting the facts more than my conclusions.

I pressed my lips once again and sucked my cheeks to contour the bronzer, and fixed my hair. I look so beautiful. Too bad he really missed out.

I walked towards the entrance of the church. Not as the bride, but as the maid of honor.

I whiffed the veil of the bride, my best friend. Her. I know how happy she is, beyond the happiness I always wished for. And as they unlocked the doors, I saw him. My "J", but I chose today that as they exchange their vows, I'd be used to his permanent absence. For if I continue to beg for a love I could never have, I choose everyday to torment my own existence.

He is looking at me. I will definitely miss his eyes. I will miss everything about him.
I cry, deep within me, as he turned his eyes at her. 

Objecting this wedding would ruin our friendship, and their marriage. I chose to forever hold my peace. No one ever told me, through the movies, that it's so painful. It is. How should I react when I should see them as a unit of love? Now. Tomorrow. Someday when they have kids. Someday when I have mine. Someday when their kids have kids. What should I do? Should I always paint myself with cosmetics to beautify myself? What happened to the simple girl I used to be? What happened to me? How could let this happen to me? 

I never wanted to attend this wedding unless it were me who was wearing that gown. But what could a dress do overnight? They could only remain as memories that would last, memories unforgotten. The stories that would pass on, tales that will be as old as time and tune as old as song.


A fighter, I will always be. 
When I fight, there is always a reason. It is because I am strong. And this strength came from all the pain that tried to visit and destroy me, but never conquered. The light that will always keep me going, is the light I will give tomyself when I get to start loving myself the way I wanted him to love me. 

And finally,

Paranoia Paranoia Reviewed by Michelle Tan on 10:22 PM Rating: 5

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