Stray Bolts

Storms rock. There's the sunshine afterward to look forward to.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

The Worst Valentine's Day

I trudged through the doors of my room. Ayto, ever telepathic with his roomie, sensed the despondency in my stride immediately. However, in the manner of typical boys, he knew not how to phrase his concern in a masculine way. But he needn't have asked anyway. For I, ever telepathic with my roomie, sensed his intentions and provided the answer.

I had just, but not more than an hour before, had the most heart-rending breakup in history. The notice came suddenly, and there was no warning. No lawyer came pounding at my door to tell me of the intended divorce. She herself provided no hints that she was leaving. Even my most perceptive friends could not tell she was going to leave me that fateful dark night.

But she did. Without a word, she left my side.

My heart was torn by the event, knowing deep in my heart all the things I would miss about her. And in the clarity of sardonic thought and cruel vividness of memory that only comes with tragedy, I did without any difficulty call to mind all the things I would miss about her.

To think she would never again stay so close by my side.
To think she would never again slip her hand in mine when I least expected it.
To think she would never again buzz sweet nothings into my ear, when she was seemingly silent.
To think she would never again share in the laughter of our combined communion with our mutual friends.
To think she would never again playfully try to distract me from my work.
To think she would never again sing to me the loving lullabies, or the rock rhythms.
To think she would never again caress my hands as I was blissfully sleeping.
To think she would never again wake me up in the morning for school, waiting so patiently for me to prepare so we could go to school together.

But alas, all good things must come to an end, and I have lost a treasure. A gem. A diamond like no other. I mourn the loss of my beloved.

My handphone.