DO YOU BELIEVE IN FATE?

I do not believe in fate. I believe that the idea of fate makes a mockery of those who worked earnestly and hard to accomplish something. But sometimes, there are instances in our lives - sudden surreal moments - that makes us wonder if fate truly exists. It wants to make you believe that those who do not heed the signs always fall victim to fate.

This is a true story.

I do not like outings and excursions. I am a misanthrope who enjoys the company of myself and the agony of others. But I joined this "company event" because of one precious secret - I wanted to see her. Even misfits fall in love. Being well aware of my character flaws, I decided not to woo her, and admire love as a secret - a flower is at its most beautiful when left untouched by man. But if chance arises, I will seize the moment and do my best to capture her heart.

But in this world a broken man is not a lovable man. A wise person knows when love is unrequited - never given a chance, never appreciated, never looked my way. I had faith that one day she will let me into her life. Or so I believed.  

Then it happened. One night the white of my eyes turned blood red. It was an eye infection. A nasty one. And it was days before the excursion. In the end, I was left behind.

Three weeks off from work means deducted salary. Couldn't enjoy movies. The medication. Missed deadlines. Missed opportunities. Missed her. Missed every moment that I could have been with her... But it was this feeling of lost and regret that was keeping me uneasy. This chill down my spine as if my soul was taken away from me. It was a surreal moment.

Months later the inevitable came. I knew that one day he will come, the man who shall have her heart. No matter how much you prepare, your heart will never be ready for that moment. The heartache was unbearable. It was death, almost, certainly... And I, the broken man, was finally shattered. Into a thousand shards, and quietly into dust. 

It must have been fate. The day of the excursion is the day when they finally felt the love for each other. Some say it was intimate. Some say that it was their sweetest kiss ever. And those days of my longing were the moments of their happiness - The moment in which my soul was taken away from me.

And it was a surreal moment. As if my eyes were there when it happened. They turned blood red because of what I could have seen that day, but I did not, for I was spared. It was symbolic. The thought of it was scary and blood curling. As if it was a curse. It was as if fate was telling me that I should not bear witness to my own demise. It was as if fate was telling me to spend the days away from despair and agony, and I was spared.

Coincidence? Maybe. But it was just too surreal. Was fate protecting me from the inevitable? Was fate keeping me in the dark so that the truth will not blind me? Or was fate playing a dark game over me? Or maybe I just want to make sense of all of these. The heartache and the sorrow. I want to blame someone, or something. I am a rational man, but also very emotional. How do I make sense of all these things?

No matter, in the end it was painful. In the end it was cruel.    

This could not be fate. I refuse to acknowledge that this is fate. It must be my inability to grab hold of things that are precious to me. My inaction caused the inevitable. But the coincidence was just too much. It was a cruel, cruel joke - As if I shed tears of blood the moment I lost my love.

Finally I confessed. She already knew. I really never had a chance. It is now our little secret and no one else will ever know. As if my love for her never even existed at all. Never having existed at all is a far worse fate than death itself - it was dead before it was even born.

I refuse to believe in fate. It makes a mockery of those who are powerless to make a difference, much to our demise. But sometimes, these instances - these sudden surreal moments - make me wonder how much control we have over our destiny. It wants to make us believe that those who do not heed the signs will always fall victim to fate. Just like how I have fallen victim into mine...

Can't believe it's real? Can't believe it too. It's Subconjunctival Hemorrhage, secondary to bacterial infection. 

I just want to add that when I was writing this story, electricity suddenly went out. Weird.  I thought, I don't want to be defeated by fate again, so I started writing this by pen and paper. When I was almost done with the first paragraph, electricity went back on.

Maybe fate is trying to tell me something again...

 

DON'T FORGET TO SEEK THE LIGHT

DON'T FORGET TO SEEK THE LIGHT

A POEM FOR  THE DEPARTED

When you're lost into the night,

Don't forget to seek the light,

When you find us out of sight,

Don't despair, we are alright

Since the night of New Year's Eve,

A sense of dread would never leave,

No matter how much, how much we grieve,

A loved one's life we can't retrieve

Wish we all a better part,

Cherish them right from the start,

Though we are a world apart,

Will always be within our hearts

So when you're lost into the night,

We pray the angels give you sight,

Do not forget to seek the light,

Don't despair, we are all alright...

Fate, bad luck, God's wrath, you name it - having anymore misfortune while remembering the dead is a real bummer. 

Two days before the day of the dead, I saw the girl I like in the arms of another man.

Were they dating? Was he courting? Doesn't matter. The feeling is all too familiar.

Butterflies inside the stomach.

A day before the day of the dead, I was in trouble with the authorities. I manned up, owned my mistakes, but I felt I was done nasty by the law - had to cough up cash in a time when I needed them most. It felt unfair. It was a doozy, my head was spinning and I was shrinking inside like a blackhole.

More butterflies in the stomach. 

One more misfortune and I would be down on my knees cursing the heavens...

Then came the day of remembering the departed. I needed a catharsis to express my emotions or I'd go insane. It was then that the thought came to me -

If my Dad (who's been dead for almost a year) hears all of my troubles, he'd be (a little bit) worried. And that... the mere thought of it is making me really upset... 

And that is when I made this poem. In spite the misfortunes, I want my father to rest in peace in the afterlife. I wanted to tell my father "No worries, I am okay in the living world".

When I visited my father's grave, I had already completed the poem, and dedicated it to my father, to Dad, wherever he is. And as long as I keep him in my memories, no matter how painful the living world could be, I will always keep on telling him that all is well here. And that we will always be alright...