Despite the many times I have tried to set aside thinking that some people are born lucky, at some point in time and in certain corners of my mind I seem to already agree. However, when I look back to that one flick where Lindsay Lohan starred, I settle and shake my head over again.
Is there such a thing as LUCK? My only conviction up to now is that, if there was, where have I been in all those times when luck came about? Had I always been away or asleep or nonexistent in those moments? Didn’t I deserve LUCK in the same way as others did?
It’s been weeks now since I last remembered going to slumber like our guard on duty during the daytime. It feels like I have unexpectedly metamorphosed into a bat or something worse than not getting sleepy 90 per cent of the time. In my mind I know that if it will be able to scream in my face it will tell me I am not a good panorama of a zombie. The “IT” I am referring to is my self.
Some days back I remember sending this message to you:
…I have lost faith and hope already.
Whatever and wherever life takes me now, it will solely be because of me.
I have become bitter because for the longest time…
Somehow this bitterness has hidden myself somewhere and
I have become, along with the bitterness, too lazy to go and retrieve it.
Even you perhaps can tell that the person corresponding with you now is not your regular…
In my seclusion there is an unheard composition that only I could hear playing inside of me. I listen to it enslaved by its subtlety and naiveté. Everyday I hear this song repeatedly and I am over again arrested by its discomposure and eagerness for liberty. Where can I run where I am sure a stage awaits me with an audience of ten million all ready to render me a standing ovation, notwithstanding my lack of expertise to deliver the song its fitting rhythm?
An ordinary person would think after reading me right now that this story teller is in over her head for piecing thoughts such as this. Or perhaps I will just be misunderstood completely time and again, then again…ignored. No matter, it isn’t time yet to cry out. Or time has already run out drier than the well.
I felt relief though, one solemn evening after shedding my ton of tears in the event that a text message from Mitch beeped on my cell phone. She said:
“Alam ko na ang gusto ko! Gusto ko maging Rounin!”
(“I already know what I want! I want to be a Rounin!”)
Hahaha! Nothing seemed funnier in that time and I still laugh just thinking about it now, because I felt the same way back then.
Because more likely the most inconsistent thought is what is consistent; what is unbecoming is becoming.
The wilderness…where I am living lost in shall remain my solace and haven until I am found again…
Copyright ©2007 Theren Alexander
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