I rolled away from the arms of the stranger beside me.
I scanned the face I last saw before I blacked out last night.
“Not bad,” I thought. Continue reading
Category Archives: Berlin
Sciamachy by Berlin
Sci·am·a·chy noun [sahy-am-uh-kee]: an act or instance of fighting a shadow or an imaginary enemy.
You see his name on your friends list
Regretting the fact that you weren’t online when he was, 27 minutes ago.
As if you would have said anything
As if you could have even typed “hello”
You click on his name and sigh at the sight of his profile picture
Not just because he was adorable but also because you see him cuddling “Monster”
The Jack Russel terrier he had had until giving him up for adoption a year ago.
You remember your heart sank as you read his goodbye letter to him.
How much it hurt him to let go of a very smart, brave although often stubborn companion.
Which you know Jack Russel terriers are…
Not that you were particularly knowledgeable in dog breeds…
It’s just that you had time to pull up all the dog photos Google had and settled for the one that monster resembled the most.
You thought about asking him directly, but then again you wouldn’t want to re-open that wound…
Or cause one on you.
You hovered the cursor over the like button
And debated whether clicking it would be too incriminating
You settled for later and clicked on his photo albums instead.
You realize he takes a lot of selfies… another thing you found in common with him.
Aside from badminton, the sport that introduced him to you.
You remember being called to umpire his game.
You remember him mistaking the first letter of your name for M.
You remember correcting him and him shyly apologizing.
You smiled, letting him know it was ok.
He smiled back.
That was your last memory of your sanity.
You watched him playfully sing, smile and stare at you during the game.
You didn’t want to assume it meant anything…
So you just officiated the game keeping your eyes on his b… the ball.
You found his name on the score sheet and repeated it a hundred times in your head so you can find him on Facebook… as if forgetting it was even possible.
You typed his name, hoping that he was there and PRAYING he didn’t know how to adjust his privacy settings.
Because you don’t really plan to add him…
You don’t even plan to say anything.
You just wanted to observe…
To see if he is or was married.
To know where he lived… worked.
To find common interests.
Basically stalk him like the psycho you are in the comfort of your own bed
But still keeping the right to act like you weren’t the least interested when you see him next.
You remember freaking out one night when Facebook notified you that he had accepted the friend request you were certain you didn’t send.
You wanted to blame your sister who used your computer that morning,
You were waiting for her to answer your call when the culprit caught your attention.
You rolled your eyes, hung up and cursed at the quarter-full bottle of J.D. on your bookcase.
“You’ve done bad things before but this…” you shook your head in disapproval and took a swig of the perpetrator.
Weeks passed and you found yourself thanking Zuckerberg for never considering the “who viewed your profile” option.
He doesn’t need to know his profile was viewed 87 times today… and he DOESN’T need to know you were responsible for 74… 82 of those views.
You read all of his statuses, scanned all his photos
Mentally clicking “like” on all of them… never physically.
Not just because you were a hopeless coward… but also because he’ll find it weird if you liked his break-up post from 2009.
You have casual conversations with him in the gym
Never trying to prolong them or let them get personal
You catch him staring at you sometimes
He smiles awkwardly when you do…
You notice how he says goodbye to the whole group but singles you out with a direct “I’ll see you soon”
But you never think too much about these things.
These, for all you know, might all be in your head.
Even when he asked you if you were seeing someone when
He gave you a ride home last Friday.
He even asked if you are looking to date… but you never assume…
You never conclude… you just always hope that somewhere between his lines is a chance that this is mutual.
You would never dare confess, let alone ask if he felt the same.
Something in your gut confirms that there is a chance there.
But your gut, your booze-loving gut, had been wrong before.
He might just be the guy who is so irritatingly nice, sweet and friendly to everyone.
Or worse, the guy like the last one…
The guy who likes you, flirts with you and practically dates you but deep down knows he will never actually BE with you.
You rolled your eyes at the memory.
You’ve been around long enough to accept that not all men are gay
Not that you were ever confident enough to believe otherwise.
Life is not that complicated… if he wants you, he will let you know.
Unless he is as afraid of rejection as you are of course.
Unless he is as attached to his pride as you are to yours.
A round green thing appears beside his name indicating he was online.
Your heart beats a little faster.
You wrack your brains for something to say.
You refer to your last conversation.
You wanted to thank him again for the ride.
You wanted to ask him the same questions he asked you about seeing someone.
You type… in notepad, because even the slightest chance that he sees you typing is terrifying to you.
You make a draft.
And another.
You are pathetic like that.
And when you finally settle for the perfect message, “Hey”
You find that he had left… 4 minutes ago.
You exhale a sigh of disappointment and relief
You close your eyes and say “tomorrow”
You promise that tomorrow… this sciamachy will end
You convince yourself that tomorrow you will be braver.
Tomorrow you will win.
Waves by Berlin
If all the studies I’ve read are true then you must be hearing me now.
I hate you.
We spent the last few weeks talking…
reminiscing…
laughing
and now here I am listening to your parents debate whether to pull the plug or not.
“He had fought enough”, your mom said.
“3 years of that much pain is enough”, she continued.
3 years.
3… years?
This is probably not the best time to make this about me, and I know you despise how I tend to do that… but 3 years?
How could you have kept this from me?
How could you have wasted so many days listening to me blabber about people you haven’t even met?
How could you have let me bore you with stories about work?
How could you have let me go on and on about my non-existent love life?…
When we should have talked about this.
About YOU.
How could you have not said anything, knowing that every goodbye might have been the last?
I wouldn’t have known what to do,
I wouldn’t have had the solutions
But I would have been there for you.
Really there for you.
I would have held your hand.
I would have carried you if you needed me to.
I would have traded smiles for your tears.
I would have been…
A friend.
Why didn’t you give me that chance?
We shared the best, the worst and the ugliest; how could you have thought this wasn’t worth sharing?
You were struggling.
You were in pain.
You were fighting for your life.
You were dying goddammit!
“He didn’t want you to worry” your mom comforted me.
“When the time came, he asked me to apologize to his friends for…”
“Dying?” I asked without thinking.
She smiled wryly.
“Dying” she nodded and watched you with her tired bloodshot eyes.
I had to blink back the tears.
If your friendship is any indication,
then I can only imagine how hurt she must be to be losing her son.
Come back, please?
I swear I will not bother you with my usual nonsense.
I will not even complain about your singing, no matter how excruciating I think your voice is.
I will listen to it all day if I have to.
Come back.
Sing.
Tease me about my weight, about my inexplicable fondness of skinny jeans.
Irritate me with your unsolicited opinions on my dating habits.
Berate me with silly questions that you so love asking.
Force me to laugh at your old corny jokes.
Just… come back.
Be… you again.
“He was so scared to be seen like this you know? It’s not the way he wanted to be remembered.” Your dad explained, wiping an invisible tear from your cheek.
I just nodded.
My eyes were fixed on your pale face.
On your cheekbones that used to be a lot plumper.
On your dry chapped lips.
Staring at you, all I could think of was your laughter.
It’s distinct sound.
The way it makes your eyes crinkle on the sides.
The way it makes your mouth occupy half of your face.
The way you turn into a 10-year old each time you found something funny.
You see?
You were wrong…
I’m staring at you now and I am telling you, you have nothing to fear because no one will remember you as this sick little person.
You will never be reduced to being just your disease.
You LIVED!
You were someone’s wonderful son.
You were someone’s great love.
You were someone’s best friend…
You…
You were my brother.
You are.
I love you.
I just wish I showed you more often, or when it really mattered.
I should have been there for you.
I’m sorry for assuming we had forever.
“It’s time”, your mom told me.
We stared at each other for a moment and collapsed into each other’s arms.
Your dad pulled us aside to make way for the medical team.
“Remember him” your dad pleaded, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“I will never learn how not to” I assured him.
They say brain waves surge moments before death.
If that is true, then there’s no better time to tell you this…
I.
WE.
Will never forget.
He Loves Me by Berlin and Taiba AlOtaibi
He Loves Me
He loves me.
I know he loves me.
He told me.
Whispered it to me.
I felt it on my lips, down to my hips, reaching to the tips of my toes.
The way his hand slips against my waist whenever he walks by.
The way his lips curve upwards when he thinks I’m not looking.
A kiss goodbye, a kiss hello, and peppered with every gift he has given me.
I feel his eyes on me every morning before he gets ready for work,
Watching me.
Looking through me.
He loves me.
But…
He loves me
He sees the hesitation in my eyes and wipes it away with excuses and promises and lies.
He pulls me close until all I could do is lay my head on his chest and surrender to his heartbeat.
Although I have so many things to say they always have to be said another day
Because he is there and he feels good and he loves me.
He has to love me.
He told me.
Screamed it at me.
He always insisted that he loves me.
He works hard for me.
You don’t know him, you may think you do but you don’t.
You get one part of him,
His little rebellion.
His little escape.
His little drug.
I wiped his brow when he was sick,
I knelt by his side when he was crushed and raised him higher when he soared.
I was there from moonrise to sun down.
And yet….
He loves me.
Why else would he keep coming back?
There will always be gaps in his life only I could fill.
I handle the mess she couldn’t deal with.
I welcome the “him” she would never get to meet
I fix his heartbreaks by filling the cracks with pieces of my own.
He was mine first!
My hands had held him for a longer time…
My lips tasted his before she even existed.
We had a whole life together.
A whole story.
And she might have invaded a few chapters but I was there in the beginning and he promised.
He swore I would be there ‘til the end because he loves me.
No, he loves me.
But…you had his happiness.
Please don’t take him away…
He saved me.
No, you don’t understand, you may love him but he saved me!
He is my rock.
He is my escape.
He is my drug.
I would have been swept under the currents.
I would have been a tiger caged but he saved me and I will not let him go!
Please forget him. Please leave him to me. Please. Please. Please! Please stop.
You are breaking me.
With every moment you share with him you are ripping me apart.
I saw those little glances at his phone.
He inhales sharply at every ring.
His fingers flex as he looks at it. Stares at it. Then glances back at me.
That’s when I first knew. And that’s how I have always known.
A tone, a gasp, a look and he was gone.
He loves me but I do not have the right to the emotions that loving him comes with.
Security? Jealousy? Seriously?
While I cry myself to sleep at night, he watches her dream in his arms.
While I wake up longing for him, they share breakfast in bed.
While my days are spent wishing for nights, he is holding her hands watching sunrises and sunsets.
I can never confront or question or demand.
This is what I signed up for.
Why should I even ask when I know the answer will always be “her”?
She has the “I do”.
She has his name.
She has his birthdays and Christmases and New Year’s eves and all the days in between.
All I have are random nights
All I have is this room and the promise that these four walls will be broken down eventually.
He claims to love me.
With every breath he assures me.
But then…
He hides his phone, he leans over it when he checks it.
He always checks it.
I see your number, only digits, no name, no picture, no illicit sign of recognition.
Why? I wondered.
Until I called you.
Yes.
I called you.
I heard your breathless voice,
I could feel your excitement, your stark energy ripped through me,
Your voice,
Your unmistakable tenor voice.
That’s when I knew he was forever gone,
He would never be mine,
I could never be enough for him though I have tried,
Oh god how I have tried!
Still, he gives me his sweet words that mimics his sweet smile
Before he slips away to you.
He called me the other night.
It had been a while since we actually spoke
I was overcome by excitement!
How are you my love?
I miss you!
When will I see you again?
Silence was his reply before the line was cut.
I wanted to call back to see what was wrong.
I almost forgot calling him was a luxury I was never provided with.
I just waited for another call that never came.
I don’t know when exactly I have allowed myself to be someone I used to pity and hate at the same time.
Someone who only comes alive at the sight of a certain name flashing on the phone and dies at the sound of a dead tone.
I start to wonder which I do better…
Live for him or die for him…
I’ve become such an expert at both that I can’t even tell which hurts less anymore.
He loves me…
I know he does.
I love him too.
I will crawl on my hands and knees, kiss your feet and worship you just to have him.
Would.
I would have crawled.
He loves me; however…
There is always a however. Always a reason, always an excuse.
Long cold nights. Long empty days.
I am stuck
No more.
I am stuck no more.
I love him. I will always love him but his love for me is no longer enough.
I have to get up. Like the rising sun I have to pull forward.
I am my own.
He loves me
He will fight for us.
He will leave her.
We’ll be happy.
That is our dream.
We spend a lot of time dreaming… it’s one of the things we do great in bed.
And although the fantasy of it all is beautiful and romantic and perfect…
I spend more of my time awake.
And the reality I wake up to is not as pretty.
In reality, they are one…they even have papers to prove it.
I’m just the outsider who wants in.
In reality, I am just the bastard who is tearing a family apart.
Throwing away a future for a past that should have been buried the moment they exchanged vows.
In reality, I’m alone in fighting a battle I could never win.
I am done settling for so much less than I deserve!
This dream will never come true!
I am awake.
I am hurt
But I am awake.
HE LOVES ME
But never more than half as he could,
Because the other half will always belong to someone else.
Yes, he loves me
But I am gone.
-Berlin & Taiba
Noah by Berlin
In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.
“Not in this lifetime” she told him.
Middle-aged and struggling is not her type.
He smiled and told her gently “Forty five is all the hype”
She thought she told him clearly and that he would finally stop
She didn’t know that Noah was not someone who gives up.
Each night he fell deeper as he quietly watched her dance
He wondered what he can do to finally get his chance
He faked a smile every time he introduced her to the crowd
How, he wondered, could he say these things out loud?
The words printed on his cards are not what he would’ve chosen
He would never dare refer to her as a bleeping sexy vixen.
A stripping goddess she was known as, but that’s not what he wanted.
All he needed from her was to be a different kind of naked
The kind where all defenses are dropped.
Where pretending she is strong can finally be stopped.
He wanted to take care of her, make her feel secure.
Let her know that money is not always the cure.
He continued treating her special, did everything to make her laugh.
He figured all the affection will eventually be enough.
Time went by and she started to see
The man he was and wanted to be.
She saw him in a different light and decided it was time to make it right
“I have something to tell you” she whispered in his ear.
He had to check twice if he heard it clear.
She kissed him and told him to meet her after the show.
He could not be mistaken she had that certain glow.
He walked around all night gleaming with pride.
That was until she screamed and cried.
A man had a little too much to drink.
Crossed the line and forgot to think.
He slapped her when she said no.
Threw money at her and called her a ho.
Noah grabbed and punched the man
That was when he drew his gun
He pointed it at Noah whose arms went up.
But the man was possessed by the devil’s cup.
He pulled the trigger without any hesitation.
While everyone flew the perilous commotion.
She ran to Noah and cradled him in her arm.
“Maybe next lifetime?” He asked with all his charm.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
That was when she realized.
“Don’t you dare Noah!
Don’t you dare let go!
This is not how it ends
There’s still something you should know!
I love you Noah
How could you leave me now?
I chose you Noah
Tonight was my last bow”
She held his lifeless body for a moment longer.
Enumerated the ways she could have made it better.
The longer she stayed at the spot where he was slain,
the more she was convinced she would never dance again.
“But Daddy I Love Him” By Berlin
Him
I thought I’d write you a letter since I didn’t get to put a word in when we last talked.
Who can blame you right?
Why should you listen to anything I say?…
I broke your heart.
I’m almost certain this paper will be torn into pieces before the first word gets read.
But in the off chance that you will give it a glance, I want you to see this clearly…
I LOVE YOU.
I know you said it’s useless to you now but I just had to say it.
Not to make myself feel better, this is probably one of the rare occasions when I am not thinking about myself.
This is for you.
This is what I feel for you and I know you will hate me even more for saying it after everything has ended, but it’s something you need to know.
It was never you, it was always me.
And I know you told me not to resort to clichés but it’s true.
You were everything I could have ever asked for.
I was just an ungrateful, selfish, heartless, brainless coward.
You were the dream come true that I turned into a nightmare by being too busy sleeping.
I was scared.
This was not supposed to happen.
I didn’t want to be with you but I couldn’t get you off my mind.
I tried to prevent it from becoming worse by limiting our contact to touch.
I was a man after-all.
Some of us do these things all the time.
Some of us even parade it.
Why shouldn’t I?
You were crazy enough to agree to it.
I was going to keep it physical, purely sexual.
But I just had to keep you for one more hour… and another.
And before I knew it, I was watching you sleep in my arms and all I could think of was how lucky I was to be the man holding you.
Before I knew it, I was checking all your facebook activities.
Hoping that status update was about me.
Wishing I was with you in every check-in.
Wondering where that man, whose arm was around you in a picture, lived and if he would look as happy without his teeth.
You consumed me.
There was not an hour I didn’t think of you.
My days were spent looking forward to the nights that I can feel you again.
Some nights I thought about crossing the line.
Some nights I wanted to ask you so many questions… like why do you smile so much when you sleep? Like why would you settle for this set up? Like who are you thinking of when you stare painfully in space? Like can you tell me where to find the pieces so I can put you back together? Like would you want to go out for dinner some time?
Most nights the questions got stuck inside.
Other nights they got said when it was impossible for you to hear, like when you were asleep… or in the shower, or laughing really hard at the TV.
Some nights I actually saw forever in your eyes.
It was terrifying.
I have never felt this way before and I didn’t know if I could handle more.
You are beautiful and smart and amazing and I honestly didn’t know how to deal with it.
I didn’t know how to treat you right because there was always an inkling feeling that it was wrong.
I couldn’t even introduce you to my friends, let alone my family.
This is not the right place for whatever we had.
We had no chance.
No future.
When my parents told me they found the girl for me to marry… I was furious.
I was so angry… at them, at the poor girl I never even met, at myself most of all.
I wasn’t ready to end what we had… whatever it was.
I actually considered screaming “But daddy I love HIM!!”
That’s when I found out I did.
Love you.
And when I realized I could not say it out loud, that’s when I knew I had to let you go.
You deserve more than I could ever offer.
You deserve someone who will hold your hand and be proud to be the man you are with.
You deserve someone who is not scared of how good you make him feel and who is dedicated to making you feel the same if not better.
You deserve “I love you’s” whispered in your ears, written on love notes, played on boom boxes, shouted at your window.
You deserve an I love you that doesn’t end with a sorry… or a goodbye.
You deserve to be with someone who will acknowledge your pain, embrace your insecurities and kiss your fears away.
You deserve the man I wish I was but will never be.
PLEASE.
Do not think that I chose her over you.
In time, I hope you see that I actually chose your happiness over mine.
You will never be completely happy with me.
I can only promise you nights… never tomorrows.
I had to leave you to give you a real chance at happiness.
And I had the perfect excuse to leave.
Oddly, I found myself thanking my parents who barely knew who I was and the girl who will never live up to your smiles because if it were all up to me, I would have never had the strength to let you go.
I’m sorry… for everything.
I didn’t know what to do with you and the emotions that you made me feel.
All I ever heard when I was younger was how a man loves a woman… they even had a song for it.
No one ever told me what to do when a man loves a man… in a place like this more so.
I am terrified and confused.
I agree when you said I didn’t have the right to act as hurt as you are.
But you have to know that my heart stops when I think of the times we had together and it explodes every time I am reminded that we will never have it again.
It might be impossible for you to believe, but this is hard for me too.
In a better place and time, I swear I would never allow this to happen.
I swear I will never fall for you.
I’ll jump.
Smoke by Berlin
Just stop.
We both know where this is going.
You don’t need to resort to clichés.
We’re done.
It finally happened.
I get it.
Do not apologize as if it was unexpected.
We were merely waiting for this.
I mean, isn’t this the reason for your awkward laughter each time you hug me a little longer when I leave?
Isn’t this why you suddenly have to be somewhere else when I wake up in your arms and catch you watching me sleep?
Isn’t this the very reason our feelings were caged in our throats?
Do not be sorry.
This is a relief.
At least my eyes can rest from stalking your facebook page for any sign of feelings
At least my mind can rest from guessing what you’re gonna say once my clothes are back on.
At least my heart can rest from anticipating when you will finally figure out this charade.
No.
I do not need to hear this.
Not anymore.
It’s too late to tell me how you feel.
Do not try to mend the pain with words that are of no use to me now.
Do not try to cushion the blow by acting like the feeling had always been mutual.
Do not take away my right to hate you by looking just as hurt…
Cause you’re not.
As I try to rid the taste of you with bitterness and as I cleanse you off my body with tears… you get to move on.
You get to have the girl.
You get to have the family you always wanted.
You get to be the man you dreamed you would be.
You get to have the happiness you believed you could never have with me.
You do not get the right to claim you are hurting just as much.
I was a fool for you.
I was yours eventhough I knew it was always gonna be her… or if not, somebody like her.
I was never an option.
We both knew that.
It didn’t matter that you never laughed as hard with anybody else.
It didn’t matter that our fingers are like puzzle pieces meant to be together.
It didn’t matter that when my lips were on yours, the world felt like it was just as it should be.
Nothing mattered.
I didn’t matter.
I was merely keeping her side of the bed warm.
I was just the blow-up doll you were too ashamed to purchase.
The whore you never needed to pay for.
I was just me.
Stupid and blindly hoping that
maybe if I could spread my legs a little wider I can wrap you around them and make it harder for you to leave.
That maybe if I press your head a little deeper on my chest my heartbeat will convince you to stay.
I foolishly believed that skin and bones and sweat would somehow translate into words that you could understand.
These are just four corners.. four walls… How could you have missed what they meant?
You caused a war within me and logic always lost…
but maybe you leaving will bring order back.
Maybe when all these dust and smoke settles, I will see everything clearly.
Maybe then I can look back and be grateful for the lessons my time with you has taught me.
Maybe I will find peace.
Maybe I will even be lucky enough to find… me.
Revolution by Berlin
By Berlin
You’re right.
It was my choice.
I am glad that you acknowledge that fact.
I thought you would understand better by knowing that it was but I guess you judged the choice without really thinking about the options I had.
No, I am not a woman… thank you for pointing that out time and again.
Although I never really wished I were, I guess you were just always convinced I did.
I don’t think my facial features or my body built fool anyone… I am a man.
I will be the first to sucker punch the jackass who tells me otherwise.
And contrary to what you believe, I actually do love women, not just the way you do.
I love women so much that I can never use them as guinea pigs in my experiment of self-discovery.
Yes, life would be much easier if I can pretend that I feel things that I really don’t but I was never a good actor and I cannot have innocent bystanders as collateral damage in this personal battle.
I would rather get bruised and beaten… like a man.
In a world where people like me are judged before we open our mouths, where everybody acts as if they know us and what we’ve been through when they haven’t even heard our stories, where we are considered sinners regardless of how holy our actions are, where we can be beaten up and bullied and talked about and laughed at just because of their perception of who we are… I still chose to be who I am. It’s a constant struggle.
It’s a long and tiring battle that I fight alone.
I hope you appreciate the bravery in that.
What’s manlier than courage right?
I don’t believe a lot of men would survive what I have to go through on a daily basis but I do and I take pride on that.
I am a man. It was never a question of being one or the other.
Yes, my voice could be a little deeper and my walk could be a little butcher but what you see is not what makes me what I am.
It’s not how I act but how i feel that is the point of this very conversation.
I feel all the emotions you do… the only difference is who they are directed to.
You say it’s my choice and I agree.
I chose this.
I chose ME.
But I think you have a different understanding of how this was my choice.
I’ve felt this way for as long as I can remember. I didn’t just wake up one day and decided to deviate.
No. I am not rebelling.
This is not a political stand.
My choices are not fueled by agendas.
I am not starting a revolution.
I am not asking the mountains to move or the seas to part…
I just wanted to live…
And I want to live without you looking at me like I am on death row, like I’m your enemy, like I’m a stranger.
I want our home to be the place where I can heal my battle wounds…
Not the place where I lose most of my battles… where I get most of the scars.
I know I hurt you and I apologize.
I apologize for the awkward silence when we are alone in the same room.
I am sorry for the football game you had to watch alone.
For the pipes I couldn’t give you a hand in fixing.
For the stares and comments you had to ignore.
For the fatherhood advices you probably have to give to someone else’s son.
I’m sorry for disappointing you.
I’m so sorry for breaking your heart.
I am sorry for everything you had to go through because of my choices but I need to stop being sorry for being who I am.
I know you are scared of the idea of me going through life alone
But why are you letting me?
And why do you make me feel like I deserve it?
Why do you so strongly believe that no one can love me for who and what I am?
Why do you think no one will stay?
Why can’t you just be the first person to do so?
Love me.
Stay.
For a minute, please forget everything you’ve heard… disregard everything you’ve read or watched… and just look at me.
And see…
I am the same boy you made that wooden sword for.
I am the same boy who loved it.
I am the same boy who sat on your shoulders because the zoo was too big for his tiny feet.
I am the same boy you pretended to lose arm-wrestling to.
I am the same boy who cried each time you left.
I am the same boy who waited anxiously for your return.
I am the same boy who dreamed that he would grow up like his father.
Somewhere beneath this exterior that you look at with such pained expression is that boy… still waiting, with both hands in the air reaching for yours.
Missing the warmth of your embrace.
And hoping,
Praying you could finally see him again.
Begging for you to come home.
Glass by Berlin
By Berlin
I have to be honest.
I had second thoughts about seeing her today.
We didn’t exactly have the ideal goodbye.
Things were thrown.
Harsh words were exchanged.
Promises were broken
And feelings were hurt.
It was an ugly, unrefined, long overdue end to the relationship that has transformed itself into a heavy energy-sapping responsibility.
Am I ready to see her? I asked myself.
Will I be able to control my feelings once she is near enough to feel?
Will we finally have a better ending to the promising start we once had?
The hope to get the answer to the last question made me decide to come.
We owe each other a better goodbye.
We were in love…
And if I’m being painfully honest, I sometimes foolishly believe I still am.
She was vibrant.
She was one of those lucky few whose aura made people gravitate towards her.
She had a certain light.
There was something about her bright welcoming smile and infectious laugh.
Meeting her was one of those moments when you just know you’re life will never be the same again.
And my life certainly was changed forever.
I got out of the car and straightened my tie.
Knowing that she was a few feet away made me nervous.
Knees shaking.
Palms sweating.
Throat dried.
Heart… exploding in anticipation.
It was just exactly how she described her panic attacks.
You see, she was a perfectionist and she became vulnerable when that perfection was disturbed.
She didn’t have the most conventional method of dealing with her panic either.
One day I watched her snort a pill she crushed with her perfume bottle.
It was for a medical condition she assured me as I curiously watched her.
She has been prescribed of it she said.
She just needed something to calm her nerves.
She was a bright up-and-comer.
She was in demand in the field she was in and though it might be a cause of celebration for others… it was a cause of concern for me.
Her drug use grew with her paychecks.
More pressure. More “edge” to be taken off.
A couple of pills, a roll of pot, a line of coke… all to take the edge off.
Although I was concerned, I trusted her too much and believed she knew what she was doing.
My love for her blinded me.
And that blindness restrained my ability to see that although she needed my love…
Help was what she needed more.
I wish we realized then how strong we both were…
And how stronger we were together…
Maybe then goodbye would never have been an option.
Her little whimpers for help finally became a loud cry one morning.
I was tired and hung-over from the night before.
I put my arms around her waist and tried to wake her up but she didn’t budge.
Her skin was clammy and cold.
I sat up and checked her face, her lips were bluish and she was barely breathing. I shook her and screamed but got no response.
I immediately brought her to the hospital where the doctors told me there was a large amount of oxycodone found in her blood and that she fell into a coma.
The realization that I could lose her brought me to a state of shock.
The memory made me even more nervous but I knew I could not delay the meeting any further.
I came here to see her and I will never forgive myself if I let my anxiety take over.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
It felt like the first time I visited her in rehab.
She woke up from her coma four days later and got checked into rehab days after.
I was excited to see her but scared of what I might find.
Luckily it was not at all what I imagined… it was more of a retreat house than the chaotic loony bin my naïve mind created.
I could actually live here I thought
I was almost relieved until I walked into her room.
It was a scenario straight out of the movies… only darker, more silent, more real.
The first few days were the roughest.
She kept crying… complaining about everything.
She started creating stories of maltreatment and tried everything to convince me to bring her home. She hated me when I refused.
She wouldn’t see me when I came to visit her and when she did, she would not speak.
It got better weeks after.
I started seeing glimpses of the old her.
She was optimistic and smiling more.
And that gave me more hope.
I educated myself about the drugs she took and the ways to help her get rid of her dependence on them.
I was consumed by my need for her to get better.
I started coming late to work, cancelling meetings and pushing deadlines.
But nothing else mattered… I needed to make her world better before she stepped back into it.
I finally got a glimpse of where she was and as I made my way towards her, each step got harder and harder to take.
As I got nearer, our final memories together came in full view.
My body felt like it weighed a ton… my heart, two.
It wasn’t a week out of rehab when she relapsed.
She found numerous complaints from clients in her mail, most of them saying they will never hire her again.
It was just too much for her sober self to take.
All hell broke lose as she tried to convince me to give her the pills… she turned into this person I have never met… this loud, illogical, rude, selfish… addict.
She went on a rant… one mindless thought after the other… one hurtful word after another.
I can only watch her and wonder how she went from the love of my life to this junkie in my living room.
She finally calmed down hours after and apologized for her actions but just as I was convinced she knew better, I woke up beside a note simply saying “sorry”.
But “sorry” was not what I needed.
I needed her to get better.
I needed her to be with me.
So, I chased after her and convinced her that we needed to be together.
We gave it another shot but our relationship was never the same.
I couldn’t trust her but I couldn’t let her go.
We went on and off for a couple of years before we finally decided it just wouldn’t work.
My bosses didn’t think I was dependable.
My progress at work went to a halt.
I stopped meeting my friends.
Started ignoring calls from my family.
She was front and center of everything.
I couldn’t get her out of my sight.
I was terrified that she would do something stupid and hurt herself if I turn my back.
I watched her every move.
I was obsessed.
I was paranoid.
She hated it.
I hated her.
We both became different people and the love that we used to share became a burden between strangers who did not know what to do with it.
And though we had good times… even the best couldn’t keep us together.
I was finally close enough to see her face.
For the first time in a long time, she seemed liked the young, innocent, carefree girl she used to be.
I could tell she was happier.
Certainly happier than when I saw her last.
“I miss you” she said when I opened the door.
It was an unexpected visit in the middle of the night a few months after our break up.
She was a mess. Looked and smelled like it.
“Let’s try again” She begged.
I shook my head in disbelief of how much worse she had become.
“I can get better” she assured me.
I had to keep the tears from falling.
The girl I fell in love with was no longer there.
I couldn’t even recognize the one standing in front of me.
Hair, greasy and disheveled. Eyes, red with dark circles under them.
She kept shaking and scratching her arms as she cried and pleaded.
I wanted to embrace her in my arms and make her feel I was there and that she was safe.
But I could only look at her in shock.
My silence triggered her into another furious rant.
I closed my eyes.
I’m sorry I cannot save you.
Not a year had passed since then.
And there she was in front of me looking a lot better.
Healthier.
Peaceful.
My eyes started to water as I stared at her.
I wanted to be the man she needed.
But I was not strong enough then.
And though a lot stronger now, I know I’m no longer needed.
The idea broke my heart.
I looked at her and couldn’t help but wonder how different now would have been if I didn’t give up.
I wanted to say I’m sorry
That I want to take her back.
No. I want her to take ME back.
That I am no longer weak.
That I can change into the person we both knew she needed.
That I will not leave her side no matter how crazy it gets.
That I never stopped loving her.
That I will try to be her hero.
I wanted to tell her so many things but I don’t think the glass would let her hear.
I wanted to caress her face with my finger.
I wanted to hug her and feel her heart beat next to mine.
I wanted to kiss her… I wanted to feel her breath before the kiss.
I wanted her hand on mine… fingers interlaced with mine.
I wanted to hold her and never let her go but I don’t think the glass between us would make her feel.
I wanted to beg on my knees.
To scream.
I wanted to break the glass between us.
But I knew.
I knew that even without the glass she would just lay there.
Lifeless.
Unmoving.
Unmoved.
Kuwait Writing Club 