Another sleepless night where I am supposed to be preparing for exams or writing maybe so that I can wrap up work. But I chose to spend it scrolling through endless posts on the internet. Why is it so?
Am I ignoring responsibilities or is it sheer boredom and inertia? Is it the nerve-wracking abdominal pain that I am desperately trying to distract myself from? Or maybe it is the return of the whirlwind of memories and thoughts I usually wish to avoid. Bearing the face of happiness, affection, friendship and laughter, these memories give a cover to my innermost fears come true, insecurities, doubt, and misery. I run away from them while being safely tucked away to sleep under a blanket but at the same time jumping from one random distraction to another to fool my mind and divert attention to things that are seemingly more important.
Well, sadly enough, I have been the poorest of runners and once again I succumb to my weaknesses so as to let the devil chase me down and hop onto my shoulder. I sigh with my head hung low wishing the angel arrives soon in the shape of sleep so deep that I don’t have any dreams tonight. The fragments of my undesirable dreams are the invitation to the devil of thoughts dreaded by every nerve of my body. The devil would crane it’s neck and whisper in my ear slyly “How you amuse me with your naivety. You burdened your love with undue trust that couldn’t be handled by the frail-spirited young chap and hence, shattered. Still, you merrily dance with him in a castle with no foundation, for your love is the castle whose foundation is broken trust.” I purse my lips and shut my eyes but his husky voice continues to invade my ears “Betrayed once, betrays still. Always had. Always will.” I resist the urge to snap back and hold on tightly to a fistful of my blanket as my mind races back to the fateful day six months ago.
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks while I found myself at a loss for words to respond to the shameful revelations. Each word of alarming confession, advice, and sympathy from the whistleblower friend stung like a slap in my face and battered my pride almost to death. I couldn’t lift my feet up from the harsh November’s cold tiled floor. I threw myself on my bed as soon as I reached home curling myself into a ball and cried to sleep only to be awakened by his calls. On the twelfth ring answered with an hmm, still drowsy and tired. “Hello, baby..I..I am really sorry..” My boyfriend spoke and woke me up instantly from my slumber. Anger soared in my veins and lashed like thunderous rain on him. His explanations and apologies competed with my questions and lashing eventually winning over my anger with heavy sobs between pleading relentlessly for mercy and another chance. He used for the first time the ultimate emotional weapon namely tears to dominate once again and I lost once again to my weaknesses. Why is it that tears symbolize love and honesty when the pair of eyes belong to him and a drama when they mine? I can never fathom.
My eyes are tired and stinging with pain begging for comfort in sleep but no avail because my angel still has not arrived. torturing myself further, I spiral down through a series of moments that I regret. For forgiving too easily, for loving so deeply, for being so confident of receiving back all that I gave and mostly for being so naive. The devil has still not departed but I can see him getting on his feet ready to move. I take it as a sign of arrival, of my angel. Too broken to pick my own fragments I still make an effort because no one else is gonna do it for me and shut my eyes. Another weak effort is made in the form of a mental note to look at the brighter side of things from next morning onwards. Finally, pulling my blanket over my head I embrace the angel and drift to sweet sleep.