The Prize

Piece of Paper

The air is wintry and yet my perspiration refuses to be abated by the chilly breeze enveloping me. I stand just a few steps away from the door. It was not a particularly dim night. My guess was, right that moment, the world was having a full moon. But none of these details matter. Nor do I care even if they do. Clutched in my left hand is a piece of torn paper. A piece which appears insignificant from someone who possesses no idea of what it contains - a series of badly written sequence of numbers that I have thought I would never ever dare, if I would have it my way, look upon ever again. And yet here I am attempting to reawake the power that lies within them. They are mere numerals, far from getting upset about. The one who owns them, however, is who I am wary of.

I do not understand why I decided to keep this paper and allowed it to lie dormant and hidden from plain sight for the past four years, roughly. I have long been firm in my stance never to associate myself with that person again, but for the last few weeks I have been weak. As each day passes, my iron will is being slowly melted by the flame of something I have feared of. For the longest of time, I have been avoiding its blaze. But now it finally licked a minuscule of its heat on me. And as moments tread forward, it shows no sign of mercy upon me. It is resolute in its aim to consume me and manipulate me, to do things I would not in my strength, even dare let my finger move to its completion. Even as I write this, I find my words, incoherent and incomprehensible. That is how weak I have become.

This will be quick and yet I suspect it would take longer than I wish it would be. I do not even know what I would say. I do not even have a definite purpose on why I have set myself in engaging in this nonsensical act. But my heart that throbs turbulently caused me… just to do it. I then inserted the Globe Sim card which I predict shall experience its first and last usage.

“Who is this?”

A woman’s voice. My mind which seems like a whirlpool on a vicious torturous cycle swiveled faster. My frustration escalated. It now appears that I have lost the last means of contact I have left when I seem to need it the most. And yet despite of my aching soul borne out of the sharp thorns of unwelcome emotions tormenting me from the past few weeks, I pressed on.

“Is Nettik there?” I asked.

“I’m sorry but he is asleep.” She responded.

I felt the reply was a bit delayed. I know he was there and awake.

“Tell him it’s… Prize.” I demanded. 

I heard a series of indiscreet voices until finally my quarry allowed itself to be heard.

“What does a renegade pupil want from me?” 

At least he still calls me a “pupil”… sort of. His sarcasm can be felt miles away.

“I wanted to know your thoughts on… some matter.” I told him. 

“Well, well, well”, his sarcastic speech continues, “Let me guess, your stubbornness finally took its toll on you?”

After all these years, he still harbors bitterness toward me. But I must admit I am impress by his guess. He is correct. I have been noted, hailed, and scorned for my unpredictability. And yet at that moment, Nettik seems like he had me wrapped around his fingers. When someone appears to know your every move, it can get really disarming. Hardly surprising for he is my former “master” after all. 

He believes he is superior to me in every way. Thus one can only imagine what would happen when someone would impertinently suggest that I am somewhat ahead of him in some respect. That is utter blasphemy.  A sacrilege which placed an insurmountable rift between us that can never be bridged ever again.

But that is nonsense. I could never ever replicate his skills with women. You could practically point any woman in the crowd and he could smoothly get that woman to like him. If the circumstance is right, even get that girl to sleep with him that same night. It seems like magic. It is like he could practically put a girl under some sort of a spell. Such an ability I never once claim I possess, nor do I think I could ever have. All I ever cared about is making a woman feel special and feel good about her self when she is with me. Whether it leads to something more is something I could only hope and could never willfully influence at my whim. He has slept with more women than I could ever hope to aspire in my lifetime. But for some reason, he seems to be threatened by a socially inept introvert such as I am. To this day, I never understood the rationality of such allegations. Even I am willing to concede that perhaps he is the best seducer in the country. He ranks among the best in the world, I may boldly add. 

But when asked whether he felt I am a threat to his greatness, he simply scoffs and asks back how someone like me could ever pose as a hazard in his throne. He is right, how could I? Maybe I am just full of it.

“Haven’t learned anything at all. Foolish as ever.” He riled. “What the fuck are you doing focusing your energy on one woman? Look at the mess you are in, shit head.” 

I was silent.

“She feels the same way?” He finally asked. 

“I don’t know.” I uttered weakly.

“You know full well that IDK means no.” He scorned. “Who’s ‘The Prize’ supposed to be?” 

When I heard those words I wanted to bang my head on the nearest wall. In this situation I trapped myself in, I am no longer “The Prize”… she is. I feel like a war weary warrior dropping his bloodied sword with his broken shield being the only quivering support remaining to keep myself from succumbing to the cold ground. I have been mourning this truth for the past few weeks now. I have been denying it for months. But I truly love her… so much. In this span, I have declined every offer, I have halted every opportunity, I have rendered immobile every advance other women had brought upon me. Why am I acting as if I am in a committed relationship when I am in fact not in anyway obliged to do so? And the worst of them all, I have the vaguest of idea if she even feels the same way. All these, Nettik found to be simply moronically stupid.

“Getting rusty, ‘The Prize’?” He mocked. He seems to be enjoying every minute of this. It appears to me that he finds some form of twisted vindication from every word I would say as if each of them is cumulative proof of how superior he truly is to me. Indeed, even the most successful of players have their own set of insecurities tucked away under the mask of their seemingly unstoppable confidence. 

“Tell me, why can’t you make her fall in love with you?” His tone now shifted from despised dismissal to concerned seriousness. I knew I had to be careful. The sudden shift was alarming.

“I wasn’t trying to make her fall in love with me. You know my ways. I just wanted her to feel loved, respected, and adored. Even from a far, this is what my heart…” 

Then I heard a laugh of mock.

“You are truly fucked up Prize. From a far???” He asked with amazement. Right then, I knew I should have heeded my own advice to watch my words. 

“You are more stupid than I thought. Not only did you fall in love with an imaginary girl, you no longer possess any taint of seduction prowess. You are a disgrace to me... to us”.

My anger started brewing. I could tolerate such barrage of disdain and derision against my being even in my weakness but to hold the girl that I love as a travesty is insolence to the core. 

“Fuck you. Dare not your impudent mouth foul the lady I love and respect.” This is one of the things I never thought I would ever regret until now. My cussing skills are nothing short of terrible. But the fire of my anger burns from each and every word of that statement. He knows I am serious, still calm but grim and unsmiling. 

“Whoa, what you gonna do? Smite me? You don’t even know where I am, moron.”

“I only demand that you refrain from your boorish and uncouth treatment of her.” I felt my voice began to sound deeper.

“Fuck you, overreacting fucktard.”

I have heard enough. I terminated the call, drew the sim card away and disposed of it, along with the piece of paper I have crumpled tightly from my hand. The fire ate them away, melting them without any hint of clemency. There is no turning back. Alas, our contact has finally been severed… permanently.

As I gaze upon the piece of paper as the flame devours it to chemical oblivion, I cannot help but realize the lack of difference we both share in our present state - we both suffer a similar fate.

Siberia

It was a dark day. The stars are starting to reign the night sky while the bluish moon that towers over them all in spite of it being the tiniest celestial body when compared not under the subjective and sometimes deceptive senses of ours begins to assume its usurped dominion. However, what lies above matters not as I gaze upon the even darker scenery of what lies beneath them. Jerome and Tricia whose intertwined paths are in danger of breaking as the fault of dissipating love which was once what bonded their roads threatens to completely crack open to swallow them whole. No. To swallow us whole.

"It is not your fault", Tricia whispered as she tried to contain her tears as she tightly grasp the sleeves of Jerome's black polo, her head reluctantly resting on his chest.  Her eyes looked straightly at mine as she struggled to mouth the word "Prize" as if to call me near.

Those eyes which beseech me of help. Eyes of a hapless vulnerable young girl longing for a princely knight to come take her away. Eyes that wish for this moment to be a mere dream, evanescing at a wake's notice. Eyes which persistently seek my presence, as if I hold the power for all these painful adversities to vanish at my command.

Truth be told, I am equally helpless to alleviate the moment's pangs and yet these people keep beguiling me into the void of their torment. In similar vein that Tricia's eyes struck my core for aid, Jerome priorly told me, "Your presence would make the moment bearable."

Bearing no hint on what and how I should act, I sat and leaned on a nearby tree. I pulled my mobile phone from my side pocket, placed the damaged but still working headphones on my ears, closed my eyes, then played whatever music my MP3 player would randomly pick for me:

Then my heart did time in Siberia
Was waiting for the lie to come true
'Cause it's all so dark and mysterious
When the one you want doesn't want you too

I momentarily opened my eyes. That's when her eyes met mine. She no longer feels the love that she once had for him. The emotions and romance that once plagued them have drifted far and wide to the ethers of nonexistence. She wished not for this to happen and yet it did. She did give it a try, forcing the once formidable feelings to reemerge from her confused and hurting heart. Weeks passed and the only thing that surfaced was a tightening and turbulent constriction on her chest as she realized that she is about to hurt the very person who have done nothing but offer his unfettered devotion.

I just smiled and said "Let go of me,
Now, there's something I just gotta know
Did someone else steal my part?"
She said it's not my fault

"But... why?" I am aware of the many things that he wished to let her know. I know since he told me. And yet that was the only thing that proceeded out of his lips. He wanted to say how much he loves her. A love that no words are able to justify as to its precise meaning. He did anything he could to satisfy her whim. He is willing to walk an extra mile as well. "If she wished me to send her roses to greet her every morning I'll do it. Does she want me to take her on a a lavish date? I'll make ends meet and take her there. Does she wish to be pampered with loving kisses and warm embraces? I shall not cease to do so for as long as I could." Jerome went on and on as I lie quietly on the black sofa of his room.

I was drifting in between, like I was
On the outside looking in (yeah)
And in my dreams you are still here
Like you've always been, oh

I used to lie down on that black sofa for comfort as I partake in my own share of  immersed pondering. Its softness is just right. My neck is amply supported for long sessions of musings by its protruding cushion edge. Its color takes me to a dark portal of profoundity, sending  me into fool's paradise, the only place where I can meet the one my heart beats for. But now, I cannot drift into the depths of my fancies even if I want to. All it reminded me is the reality that bites, no, that gnaws the person confiding to me. Shall my fate be the same? Will the serendipity that gently guided me to experience the most intense of all emotions be, in the end, morphed into a dark vile fate of a heart shattered into thousand pieces? There is indeed a reason why such a term as "twist" of fate was concocted.

I gave myself away completely
But you just couldn’t see me
Though, I was sleeping in your bed
'Cause someone else was on your mind
And in your head

"I did not want to fall for 'him'. Tell me, I know you know what I am talking about, did I choose to fall hard to someone else?" Those were the words that welcomed me as I open the door of my room. Indeed, she speaks of the truth. It requires not a genius to understand how dejected she is by mere glance of her eyes, eyes wrought of pain, detained for such a long time, barely can she contained the desire for release of what lies beneath those tired and hurting brown eyes. I also wonder too why our nature was configured in such a way that such cruel aspect of reality is even possible in the first place. Soul mates, kindred spirits, intertwined souls, "two hearts, two souls, two minds, one destiny", these conceptual abstractions that she used to  curiously, gleefully, and blushingly implore of me to expound all sound facetious now. What lies in front of me is now a broken heart, wanting to be mend.

I opened my eyes. I looked at my cell phone. It's the seventh song already. I raised my head, seeing the two beginning to part now. Astoundingly, I found no tears dripping on their crestfallen faces. And yet their hearts cannot lie of the persistent truth that keeps on creeping out from their torn souls. I can vividly hear the loudest of cries in their heart of hearts.

As I rest under the shade of this very tree, the reality of this game called love started to forcefully impinge itself on my senses. I have realized that though I have learned quite a lot about attraction, seduction, and courtship in the last 24 years of my life, my knowledge of how to maintain a healthy relationship is virtually nil.

And yet I have also already realized that being in a committed relationship has brought me far greater satisfaction and joy than any flirtatious flings could ever hope to give.

Perhaps that is because it is not a game.

Irrational Emotions

I am a nihilist. With that I mean I view life as it is. From the bleak terror of death, to the utter pain of personal offense, to the blissful union of two person madly in love. I cannot maintain a blind eye to the harshness of reality nor can I ignore the orgasmic pleasures of life. I have taken the path of living under the guidance of cold sterile logic and indifferent reason.

However, as a human, I am also bound by the shackle of emotions. As a nihilist, I must be honest as to acknowledge this part of me. To do otherwise is to lie to myself which is in dire opposition to the principle I hold to. I have my preferences but as a nihilist I should also realize the truth that we cannot make reality conform to what we want.

Much as I hate to be overcome by emotions, I still am. To my humanity I lay the blame.

“I will not come back here anymore”. Such an ordinary statement, voiced out in an ordinary manner and yet causing nothing short of ordinary to my stagnant emotions. If I can still gather them all, they are sadness, concerned worry, pain characterized by heaviness in the chest, loneliness, haplessness, and weakness. All these ingredients of emotional pain brewed ominously in the pot of my emotional centers giving rise to a one single painful feeling to rule them all.

 There are a couple of sacrifices that have to be made when she stays home. Sometimes these sacrifices can get very bothersome that you are actually counting the days until she leaves. These have been the norm for the nth time already. She would come. Midway, her presence would sometimes get on your nerves. Then she departs. 

Perhaps I never really wanted her to leave all along. Perhaps, I just wanted to have my own room with her staying comfortably in the other room. How I wish for her suffering to end. If there is a Devil, I would willingly sell my soul just to end it. My death means nothing compare to the lifetime of happiness that would befall on her. Bah! Irrational emotions…

When she leaves, the aforementioned pain is always present. Though this has occurred a number of times already, my biological system never became used to it. There seems to be no immunity to this pain which is triggered whenever she moves away from home.

“I will not come back here anymore. I’ll stay in your grandfather’s place for a few days before I leave the country,” my mother said nonchalantly. I was then instructed to trick my three year old brother into going somewhere so as to not realize that she is about to take her leave. A few minutes after her absence, my brother kept looking for her and calling “mama” while crying.

I cannot do anything but endure the painful emotion, which is further worsen by my brother’s cry which I am helpless to subside. “Fool! You would still see her again.” My rational side tells me. “Fool! Those emotions are clouding your mind from viewing things in the proper perspective”. And yet the shouting and yelling of my rational, critical self is crippled in silence by the screaming anguish of my painful emotions.

There are other people in this planet who are also missing people they hold dear. Whether separated by geography, cut short by time, or simply longing for them to be near. I count myself as one of them as we travel in this ark of irrational emotions. I, the captain of this ship, understand the pain my fellow pirates have to go through in this voyage of pain. I swear by my scimitar to take care of these brave and yet emotionally panged men and women in this stormy sea of yearning, as much as I possibly can.