runaway princess…

Sometimes to believe in Love is to simply invite Faith to sit at your doorstep. Ah, but she dismissed Faith out the door not too long ago. She’s fought a vain battle against Destiny only falling as the defeated. It was plain lunacy trying to reach victory with mere bafflement and unkind recollections of romance as her ammunitions. And as her head played the plea of an innocent man who’s offered his hand to dance, she cringed at the thought of again, failure. She wanted him as much as he wished upon her. A fairy tale she’s longed all her life. The little voice inside screamed out that this was it. No more departure, no more misgivings and acrimony, no more forgiving as there would be no wrong to pardon. It was time to embrace Happiness.

—————-

She stepped out to the balcony befriending the cloudy evening sky, twisting her messy hair up with a single chopstick.  Her colleague sang one of the summer camp songs in the shower. It had been another exhausting day with countless frivolous children. She’s placed a natural love for them and their entire world of incomparable virtuousness. Yet only in the hands of Silence had she ever found utmost contentment. Thank you, Silence.

A knock at the door sprawled her thoughts. A company was the last she needed but her face broke into a smile seeing his big blue eyes showering her with warmth.

“I’m bored in my room. Mind if I steal your time for a while?” He clasped his palms together and pouted his lips.  She laughed before escorting him to the balcony. She seldom permitted anyone on intruding her precious moments with Silence, yet fondness for him gave her lenience.

“Evan, look this way!”  Lila, with only a piece of towel covering her wet body stood before him. Evan placed hands over his eyes before completely rejecting a scene which he declared unfit. The blonde giggled and returned to her shower.

Evan blushed before turning to his senior leaning on the rail of the balcony next to him, who only smiled at one of Lila’s endless attempts to taint her fellow colleague.

“It’s very awkward.”  The 17 year old stated. He examined her white tight shirt and long baggy cotton pants.  “I appreciate you covering yourself.”   

“Nobody does.” She answered grimly.

“Everyone strips publicly in this age.  People are forgetting the essence of the female body. And the essence of everything else.”  He stated calmly. From the day they were acquainted, she’s felt drawn toward his transparency and subtle uniqueness. It was through his soulful eyes and kindred spirit that she stared at her own reflection few years back before things took a displeasing turn. Before her world bowed down to Adultery.

“I can’t disagree.”  She acknowledged aware of her effortless arguments with every other male.

“Haven’t you ever felt that everything is just so bland and people have become mechanical beings? Doing things without realizing the purpose or effects of their actions.”

“I suppose you’ll give me the answer to that, Mr. Brynne.” She waited impatiently, hungry for anything he may feed her. She’s been too drained to think lately, flooded with grimy thoughts and turning to her imperceptive 40 year old male friends have only corrupted her waters. She needed something else. Something freshly composed to rekindle her timid heart. At 25, hostility served as her loyal companion.

“The irritation I felt trying to watch a football game with dancers blocking my view. It was my first and last attempt in entering that bar.”

“Preference for most men wouldn’t be a difficult presumption.”  She revealed what she knew.

“But how could one think of looking at a woman in such a putrid way? A woman’s body is unmatched beauty so it should receive implausible appreciation in more ways than one.”

“A male evolution parallel to the increasing amount of women who worship the granted they’re taken for.”  She shuddered.

“Yes, people have resigned from life, it seems, accepting what is acceptable. But I don’t want to be like that. I want to wake up in the morning and move forward, know that what I think and do can serve a purpose beyond what is known.”

“Nobility is on the way to extinction.”  She stated smiling.

“That and do you know what people are forgetting these days?”

She shook her head imprisoning her opinions as people have pronounced her insanity over them.

“Look at that.” He pointed at the sky breaking down in tears. Raindrops began kissing the top of their head then shoulders. She backed away but the boy grabbed her elbow. “I’m so sorry.” He bowed letting go of his grip.

“For what?”

“Touching you.” He said coyly. “The only thing that should touch you is those rain drops.”

“I haven’t played in the rain in ages.”  She confessed wondering when was the last time a man apologized for accidentally touching her, if not intentionally pursued. She recalled nothing.

“Why ignore such an amazing phenomenon? If you look at rain as rain, then it’s boring. But look at how it’s formed, how it gives life to grass and plants, how it touches you and trickles down your skin. See how it makes you feel. Why children love rain? Because it’s as pure as they are. It takes beauty to see beauty.”

The boy spoke with striking intensity as if it was his only grasped knowledge.

“If you look at grass as grass for instance, of course there’s nothing profound about it. But look at it closely at dawn and see the morning dew settling on its surface. It’s incredible! Look at the sky and count the stars. Walk on a beach and pick up shells. Look at a woman and see how the monotony of her face breaks into something so exquisite when she smiles with her eyes! It’s those things that people overlook these days and it’s a shame because that’s all that matters really.”

She kept her gaze on him wanting to shed tears much harder than the sky. “People are giving up too often, accepting life and others as they are. We hold a white flag and invite resignation. ‘This is what I live for and this is the world I was born into so there’s nothing more than that. Nothing more I should do.’ People have stopped creating and taking chances. They are afraid to face themselves in the mirror and realize that there are things forgotten, there are things that need to be changed, there are emotional and spiritual boundaries to shatter, and that the world is not solely what it is.”

“Emotional and spiritual boundaries…” She repeated falling into an unexplainable dejavu.
”Simplicity has become dilapidated and homeless.  We tend to spoil our emotions, which most times leave us feeling continuously ravenous as opposed to being contently still. So if our emotions are at stake, how on earth can we unite with our spirituality? Without both, we’re empty and insignificant.” He was giving her a speech which she gave herself when she was his age. His passionate bravery left her wordless

“Am I naïve?” He asserted a question she habitually asked herself.  She grinned at his innocuous disposition pushing her toward such peaceful elevation.

“No,” She silenced for a moment feeling the raindrops running down her neck. “You’re immaculate which makes you a wealthy man.  For some odd reason, people think they have to be erroneously coated to reach Happiness.” 

“How can one be covered in stains to reach ultimate Happiness? From what I heard Happiness is nothing but pure.” He stated.

“And how can one encounter Happiness when one isn’t unscathed? How can beauty see beauty? How can one see purity when one just isn’t?” If she possessed any power to prevent Time from decomposing the living, she would ask to remain youthfully chaste forever until a true love decided otherwise.

”You like the raindrops?”  He asked softly piercing through her dreary mind.

“Feels like a refreshing bath,” She shivered with a smile.

“Well, consider this your first encounter.”

At that she stopped and covered her face with a towel hung nearby.

“I don’t feel clean, Evan.”  She became as tearful as her sky. “Because I’m not.”

The boy kept his gaze seeping through the Devil inside her that made her cry in agony. “When our shield is taken away from us along with the essence within, we feel a great defeat. We feel ashamed for failing to give protection to our own self. We feel small and unworthy.”

She stopped sobbing. “We are left with fear in the end. And because of that, we run away and build thicker shields shutting the entire world away because we feel that breathing in silence is our only hope. Our sanctuary.”

She fidgeted nervously staring at a 17 year old boy reciting her locked emotions in words. Loud and clear. “But life isn’t unkind. Destiny works in mysterious ways beyond our recognition. Sometimes, it forces you to accustom yourself to things, even if it means happiness. It tells you to learn how to hope and believe. It grants your wishes when you least expect it. It begs you to destroy your shields and give yourself in wholeheartedly, surrendering to its greatness. In your case, Destiny decided to summon a person who loves you.”

She froze at his last remark.

“Destiny wants your undivided attention therefore forcing you to fight against the demon inside until you succeed. The raindrops purified your body but as for your soul, you must try to release everything that is not love.”

“How did you know…?”  She asked.

“I wish you are reborn to a new soul and walk unscathed for the rest of your life.”  With that the boy bowed graciously before her.

————–

He closed their evening and returned to his room just a few balconies away. She struggled with herself as to whether she should accompany nature or dry herself for bed. Her mind began creating excuses.

You might turn ill. It’s late; you should go to bed. You have a long day tomorrow. People might see and think you’re foolish. Lila will drag you inside once she’s out of the bathroom. You’re feeling cold anyway.

Oh, how conditioned her mind was, she realized. For something as simple as raindrops. How uncompromising and severely tense.  From where she stood, she witnessed Evan Brynne leaning on the rail of his balcony staring at the sky allowing pearly raindrops dance across his face. In his solitary, he was innocently content blanketed in gentle wind. He was soft and considerate toward himself. Toward Happiness.

As drops of rain seeped through her clothing and caressed every inch of her body, she envisioned the man she held love for. She would love to hold on to love. She would cast away all ammunitions. She would be evermore grateful to Destiny for dropping him during one of the most upsetting chapter of her life. In a way, he rescued her, bathed her with devotion and protected her.

She would love to dance with him under the rain. Forever.

What in God’s many names was I thinking?! Less than two months ago, I must’ve been completely mentally intoxicated since I took a good fifteen minutes to type in and justify the fact that I was starting to be lenient toward men.  I must’ve been literally trapped in some temporary fuzzy feeling of…forgiveness.  It was one unattractive fata morgana oozing wistful notions out of my head.  Even my lover stated, “She’s forgiving men!?”  Oh, Lord Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Mary Mother of God, Abraham, Mohammad, and all dwellers of the Heavens, knock a raindrop of sense to this piece of mortality!

Whatever relaxing stroll I took on that sunny afternoon …Christ, whatever giggles occupied my mouth; it was such a gigantic false assumption. Absolutely bogus and uncalled for! Call me emotionally undignified, teen puberty addict, or internally handicapped, it doesn’t matter. (I don’t listen to people’s name callings on me anyway).

Umm…but really now, it’s been bothering me at every sunburned strand of my hair. Even my left wenus gets itchy thinking about it. 

———————————————————————————————————

Of all the creatures on this planet, men are the only ones who voluntarily read abusive materials telling them they are stupid, useless, cruel, impotent, crummy parents, terrible partners, and the list walks on. Oh, I guess that’s what differentiates the human male with the

Caribbean

reef squid let’s say. They don’t read books and articles discussing them being one-sided mind and biologically irrelevant.  In fact, men have already noticed their eviction from this planet as it is no longer anybody’s secret that the Y chromosome is deteriorating faster than the Wicked Witch of the West.  There are predictions that close to 100,000 years from now that men will just need a few semen slaves to milk and that a woman can handle the rest from reproduction to refinancing on their own.  Yes, the female is THAT superb.

But I guess the question whether men are biologically necessary for the future is something secondary.  It’s not that men are nonessentials to our ecosystem for that matter, but that men just suck big time. Forget men being responsible for the Pyramids, the Magna Carta, brown sugar, the Renaissance, the goddamn iPod, motion pictures, the Louvre, that 1969 (was it?) landing on the moon, Starry Night, Disney World, theory of relativity, and the Great Wall of China. After all that, men still suck. They are ignorant, bad dressers, mean, insensitive, heart breakers, low class liars, two timing cheaters, selfish and love to invade places like Iraq because they f***ing feel like it.  They constantly claim they’re the best you could ever have. (What is it with false advertising?) They can’t admit their wrongdoings until you throw something at them and even then, they’ll admit just to shut you up. They want you to look like Salma Hayek while turning Sponge Bob on you before your next birthday.  Add to that, they can also forget your birthday.

Really, the whole world is just better off without them.

————————————————————————————————————

There.  That was an entry I submitted to this very blog less than two months ago. Yet, I denied such fact.  The wildest idea formed inside my head and I said to myself, “Okay, boys, I forgive you for being who you are. I forgive all of you for turning out the way your mother never wished for even a second. I forgive you and will give you another chance. Many more chances in fact. We’ll catch a flick. We’ll eat my favorite chips out of the same bowl. We’ll go shopping together and guess what? You get to carry my bags. Yaaaay!! We’ll sit in one room, hey how about one couch? I absolutely trust you. We’ll drink off the same cup and lick off the same spoon. We’ll go out dining and spend hours discussing EU politics, sports, presently accredited motion pictures,

Asia

’s economical emergence, interracial marriages, or current literary masterpieces. Whatever. You name it. I’ll be the greatest conversational partner you’ll ever meet! We’ll go clubbing. Don’t forget to be nice and let the next alpha male cut in. Buy me a drink and I’ll buy yours. And we’ll both end the night on our own bed hugging our own bolsters. We’ll be best friends forever and you don’t have to ever discover which part of my body needs Gillette. Oh, here comes the best part! You get to meet my lover and have a chit chat with him too! He’s such a nice guy. So what’s the deal, boys?”

(Sigh) It would take a miracle for me to not make a fuss over the way so many

Adams

have left their moronic footprints at my doorstep. And I’m afraid I can’t and don’t wish to manufacture a miracle.  So, one last time. What in God’s many names was I thinking?!

Dear Diary,

“I’ll see you at the lobby,” He kissed me before heading out with a white cottoned long sleeve, beach khakis and dark brown sandals. His light brown hair with blondish streaks was slicked back with a little help from Gatsby.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, I dropped my mascara to dial housekeeping. In less than 3 minutes a lady arrived with short stemmed red and pink roses and a bag of various shaped candles. I asked her to spread the fresh large petals across the bed and bath tub.  Grabbing the remaining roses and carnations, I made a trail of petals from the front door to the bathroom and to the bed itself. Candles were all ready along with dried scented flowers.  I placed the two wrapped gifts I bought for him by the pillows. Inhaling deeply, I dried my hair and carried myself down the elevator to Amari Boulevard’s lobby.

“I’m Robert Voisine and you?”  The man I love teased bringing his lips to mine.  He grabbed my hand and escorted me to one of Amari Boulevard’s outdoor restaurant located at one of the higher floors.

Robert reserved a different menu for us and a table nearer to the pool, bit isolated from others.  We consumed his choice of red wine, appetizers I loved, and main course we together agreed on. A soft breeze greeted us from time to time as he repeatedly locked his hazel eyes to mine.

“It’s been a year and we have a life time together. Can you handle that?”  He stated squeezing my hand before kissing it.  I shook my head wondering if I should’ve used beige petals to accompany the red ones instead of light pink. Smiling to myself, I feasted my eyes on my love’s facial features. As my best friend revealed, the love I felt for him have been one I longed for - passionate, romantic, serene and earth shattering all at once.  It’s been one year of magical madness and keeping records of his continuous long visits. He’s painstakingly driven. He’s Sensibility and Consistency. He’s revealing. He’s loved me in ways where many men have literally failed before my eyes. 

For the past year I’ve made him cry but he managed to always put a stop to my tears.  I’ve made him wait and his patience deserves a throne.  I’ve called him names but his recital on his love for me grew louder by the day. I’ve forced my volcanic emotions to sit on his lap and he took it, held it, and gently crushed it. I’ve slammed phones down yet he’s returned all calls before the day ended.  I’ve screamed nonsense in his ear but he never took a single step out the door. I’ve unveiled my obscurity using my youth as what I call now as despicable reasoning. He said he understood. I’ve brought my ex lover to the surface, the one man who abandoned me with lies, turning himself all too common. Robert Voisine picked me up, brushed my body with kisses, filled my room with roses, whispered to my soul that promises was no need as he commanded Destiny whom  he was dancing with to allow me to cut in so I could be the one dancing with him for life. I dropped on my knees and begged Destiny to be our eternal guardian.

After dinner, I motioned for him to wait at the lobby yet witnessed a strange eager smile on his face.

I dashed up to the room to light the candles and fill the tub with lukewarm water for a lavender scented bubble bath.  Grabbing a lighter and anxious to witness the surprise on his face, my feet stopped at a table covered in a white cloth standing in the middle of our room. My lips parted in awe. There stood freshly cut fruits, a bottle of champagne posing inside the silver ice box along with two glasses, two plates with its cotton napkins, a mini pot of white and red roses, and a fruit cake covered in bits of nuts. A thin bar of white biscuit decorated the surface with chocolate icing that read: Happy Anniversary.

Dear Diary,

I haven’t felt such sensation since my lover’s last visit and frankly Mr. Voisine made just the right impression. When I laid my eyes on him for the first time at the Amari Boulevard lobby, I couldn’t help to bury my skepticism of what could be a wonderful evening.  He was wearing a white thin line striped shirt, khaki pants and black shoes. His brown hair was slicked back, obviously with a little help from Gatsby. He was as handsome as his picture, yet I imprisoned any sign of over adoration for the sake of my flagged pride.

Dinner at Tony Roman’s was filled with various stories as the white wine took its stroll throughout my body by the end of the meal. I made him laugh as he made me race toward amazement.  Mr. Voisine was brilliant, a 34 year old with greater sex appeal than any 20 year old I knew.  He’s stepped his foot in various places. I was sure he’s stepped his heart in and out of few more than his high school sweethearts. He’s tasted life and exposed more stories than regrets. Oh, I adore men as such. He was forthcoming, down to earth, and articulate with pretty hazel eyes that I fell in love with immediately. He was classically handsome with what seemed to be the complete package I couldn’t wait to uncover.

Bed Supper Club, my favorite venue was our next stop and I couldn’t help to think that I was setting aside my Swedish distant lover for a change.  I realized that after one year of continuously being far away from him in addition to his negligence, as a young female mortal, my heart cried out for a small break.

Mr. Voisine and I began the evening with a simple Heineken as we gave room for fluent conversation.  I thought of my lover sporadically reminding myself to expect only innocent moments with the French Canadian standing before me. I expected absolutely nothing. Nothing at all, until the evening reached its peak and Infatuation took me by the hand and commanded me to harbor between Mr. Voisine’s shoulders at one of my favorite songs.

It’s been too long since I carried my body across the floor in such an erotic way as my lover was never much of a dancer himself. It always bothered me yet I clutched not too long to the thought as Mr. Voisine drew his body closer to mine.

Whether it was Fate or the Devil flicking his finger, I possessed almost no time to savor any thoughts. My body danced along his body as my lips danced with his lips. I devoured him completely before allowing myself to turn away and reach for the Bailey’s Irish Cream he brought me.  Guilt remained an uninvited guest as my heart shivered only in blissful ecstasy.

I kissed him with such erupted hunger inside the elevator of Amari. We entered the room and I wasted a good ten minutes with an open chit chat about ice hockey. Yet a growing impatience was boiling within and I surrendered to the little voice that no longer whispered.

I wanted Mr. Voisine as a woman. A young woman waiting to say good bye to her distant lover. A woman who wished for that divine, passionate, eternal, earth shattering love.

Oh, If only I was prepared for the plans Fate had wrapped for me. If only I was realistic enough to think that I never had any absolute last words for anything in life.  If only I was aware of the power of wishful thinking. If only I had acknowledged the supremacy of Time and Destiny just a little bit more…But then again, who can?

I was close to physical insanity, sweating and feeling that high fever slowly consuming my body.  It was a very sizzling Tuesday, a rather highly humid and long one. One I would love to pass quickly although I knew very well that Wednesday’s weather would not escort me to an elevated bliss.

I only fancy the tropics for its fresh coconuts, heavenly ocean breeze, and the satisfaction of wearing a two piece bikini while staring at hot tanned bodies with a bit of sunburned hair and friendly mannerism. In other words,

Bali

. Outside of that, I am afraid my tolerance has been quite a weak thread. 

I’ve abused my so-called power breathing in places I’ve failed to retrieve Absolute contentment. Oh, Brahma, forgive me.

I plainly miss any simple minus ten snowy winters. I miss my black high boots and long leather coat. And of course, those light colored sexy turtle necks. Oh, I yearn for my uninterrupted and prosperous health!

My two weeks on and off sickness had reached its toll. I take after my mother in that sense, dwelling in headaches and physical fatigue as a cause of the overly damp air while everyone bloomed in precariousness under the scorching sun.  My mother and I blossom in utmost beauty (I’d like to call it) only in breezy to chilly weather conditions. Seriously.

Lunch hour was finished and I thanked whatever Divinity out there that my lessons for the day were over. Taking a seat in front of the computer in the library where a fourth grade class held their extremely quiet math lesson, I felt an uplifting relief. Thank you Silence, I whispered.  Sipping apple juice and few headache pills, I slouched just to close my eyes a bit.

I miss my love. He’s scheduled to arrive Friday and my patience is wearing thin – again, a much weakened thread. Oh, perhaps my sickness would be bygones at his arrival.

I received a text message from him, asking me if I was still at school. I smiled and opened my chat room immediately, waiting for his greeting – a routine I forced myself to grow accustomed to considering there’s only a few countries and oceans sitting between us.  I grew restless waiting and wondering why he was taking longer than usual. Thus, I dashed out to my own office and grab tissues to accommodate my irritating runny nose.

I saw a ‘miscall’ on my phone as I returned, blowing my nose frantically. My weariness was accompanied by annoyance. I didn’t understand his miscall as he’s never done so before. If he wanted something, he would’ve been online yapping his heart out to me.  If he couldn’t chat, he would usually send off a text message and call me in the evenings. His ‘miscall’ was slightly irregular.

“I need you outside at the school gate now. Can you come out?”  A message suddenly appeared. I groaned, sneezed then coughed some more.

If it was another one of his flower or chocolate deliveries from

Japan

, couldn’t the delivery boy walk up one floor and hand it them to me?!

I walked out of the library wishing for a nice bed underneath my fragile body. Leaning on the rail of the second floor I gazed out at the school’s front gate and observed an empty street. No flower delivery.

“Sita, look!”  Teacher Pao appeared and grabbed my shoulders.  She pointed to the school gate and again, I saw a few motorcycles running by and a man sitting under a tree across the street. Nothing out of the ordinary and still, no flower delivery.

“Go, go down and go out of the gate!”  She pushed me. I grunted lazily walking down the stairs toward the gate cursing at the overly generous sun and my uncooperative pathetic body. The street was vacant as I glanced back and forth from one direction to the other.

“Sita!”  Shouted a man’s voice. I took my eyes to a fine figure walking slowly toward me crossing the street.  His light brown blonde streaked hair shone under the sun as the warmest smile decorated his face.  Sweats trickled down the side of his face, down to his neck and into the collar of his white Polo shirt.  At an instant, my body melted as I fell back on the gate’s wall with tears racing down my cheeks.

The man embraced me tightly as I breathed in his body scent.  Words didn’t bother to fill up my lips as they were no match to the erupted passion queuing in my throat.  He grabbed my hand walking me slowly back across the street to a bench under a tree. My eyes wondered from his small duffle bag to a bouquet of fresh white roses.

“For you,” He whispered kissing my forehead. I buried my face in the petals and allowed more tears.

“What are you doing here!?”  I felt a bit bothered at the unscheduled surprise feeling very German-ly stiff that way. Yet there was a luminous striking sensation within, one I failed to delineate at that very moment.

“I can’t wait for Friday.”  He answered with a smile glued to his sweet face.

I squinted straight at the sweltering sun from under the tree, making an immediate decision to stop being so contemptuous towards it.  I ran my fingers through the white petals feeling its meticulous virginity before inviting my gaze to the man who gave them to me.  Then I defined that ongoing enigma inside my head.  Standing before me with what I distinguished to be undying love from his hazel eyes, was the man I knew I’d spend the rest of my life with. The man who was willing to shower me that Absolute contentment.

Oh, Brahma, thank you.