letter 13: misunderstood

Miguel,

Your nieces and nephew are very cute, but I guess all children are. I showed you my nieces’ pictures, didn’t I? I guess when one is young radiance and happiness are very visible on their faces. I watched your face as you gave me brief background where it was taken and when as it was relayed to you by your elder sister, and I saw pride and compassion. When you start talking like that, and looking like that, Miguel, you are putting ideas into my head.

And these ideas generate a force that is beyond the control of my thoughts. My body has betrayed the will in more than tolerable occasions that the latter is nothing but a slave to the needs of the body. I am not proud of what you have turned me into, Miguel. But pride is irrelevant this time; I am feeling a kind of happiness where pain or satisfaction doesn’t matter, thus the ego is forgotten.

I am now vulnerable but this vulnerability, I realized, Miguel, is my strength. You had freed me from my inhibitions and for every pain that you may have consciously or unconsciously inflict on me, I have become stronger. I have understood more the stretch of the power of the mind and the extent of the rebellion of the flesh.

Can you be me for a while, Miguel? That you may understand these things; and perhaps, I can watch from the sideways and see if there was other way you could have done these things if you were in my place.

“She really looks mad here.” You spoke up, referring to one of your nieces’ photographs, bringing me back to a reality and realization that I may die a thousand deaths and you will not give a frying rat’s ass about any of it.

“I can see that.” I murmured under my breath. If a picture can speak a thousand words, Miguel, are you not hearing my face?

author’s note: On the contrary, her face at that moment did not give away anything. If deep inside she was dying, the world outside would see her that day the way they see her everyday: cheerful, self-controlled and confident. There was no hint of battle in progress within herself nor was there an indication that the guy sitting beside her was causing it. Ironically, if she only heard Miguel’s voice on top of her disenchantments, she would have noticed something beautiful was growing in his side. There is currently a twinkle in those blue green eyes; whether or not she was the cause of it, one thing was clear: he had been looking forward on unplanned meetings like that. She made him laugh, and he knows it. And as the days go by, he was yearning for it, half-hoping that she, like him, enjoyed it as much.

But because the war within her blinded her from seeing this, she was miserable. In fact, she was falling fast towards the pit of misery that I worry for her once more. She might be a fighter, but love was never a victorious arena for her. One, because she had always been stubborn-headed. Another, because she never really understood the whole essence of it.

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