Confessions : Vulnerable, Thus I Bleed. Alone.

Confessions : Vulnerable, Thus I Bleed. Alone.

I remember one of my friends told me that I would be doing a very stupid thing, one that would really kill me if I decide to push through with it. No, he was not referring to my then plan of finally go out and search for the light in the deepest darkness of the next life, if that life does exist.

He was referring to my thoughts and plans of forgetting a life I helped bring into this world.

And so this is what I did: it was not easy waging a war with an innocent life caught in the middle, especially for a life whom I knew I would kneel down, bleed, and amidst all the dying, live for, if he would one day choose to ask that of me. I, on my part, decided to the war in the only way I knew possible then: in silence, and not knowing.

But before that, I kept a little bottle filled with the essence of that life, and hid it in some secret but accessible province of my soul. In my despair, I sought for forgetfulness, even at the cost of that being only an illusion. But I am proud, now more than ever, that I chose otherwise. I knew one day I would have need of that bottle.

Among numbers, I have to favorites: 7 and 13. The latter has always been regarded as unlucky, but on Fridays where that day fell, I was unusually lucky. As for the former, aside from signifying the days in the weeks of our lives, or being a prime number (prime number is that which is only divisible by 1 and itself), it stood for the number of deadly sins. Deadly, and yet if we arise from them, we live, we become more human.

Seven years is such a long time, but since I knew that time passes by for someone who waits, I decided to let it run its course.

It has run it’s full circle.

Everyone is vulnerable. It’s just a matter of knowing what it is, and how to use it. I knew mine better than anyone else, and that is the reason why I chose to hide it in a safe place. And if only some enemy who wished me great harm intended to maim me, they could have done so if they took the time to discover what my vulnerability was (of course, how long a time they would have taken to find that out depends on their ingenuity and my stupidity, but that is another story). And after so much waiting, I have decided to reveal it again. I had mapped out the possibilities of such an action, and have completed all the preparations needed.

But there is nothing like the real thing, just like how every detailed plan gets blown away with the first shot of a battle.

After all my years of dying slowly everyday (who isn’t anyway, and it means the same as living everyday) I have learned to detect that gut feeling that usually arrives when I am faced with great dilemmas. It would be beautiful if, for once, even just for once, I could be wrong about it. I really wish I could be wrong. I could be. Please let me be wrong.

But I cannot deny the record of my gut feeling.

Perfect.

And though it has been known about me that my weakness I can use as fuel for my own rage to turn the tide, I have to confess that I am afraid.

Like a little boy who found out first hand that there are indeed monsters and evil fairies lurking in the shadows and darkness.

And because I was afraid, I went running. I asked people around. Funny thing is, I always knew that the choices would always boil down to two: either it’s a flight for the light, or a plunge to the dark.

It is painful when you realize, with all certainty in your life, that it is, or as it will be proven later on, that you and only you have to endure the plunge into the biting dark. And if that is not enough, you, or shall I say I, I have to remember every moment of it, until memory abandons me as well.

Of course, I am hopeful I would be proven wrong.