Sentimental Freak

And, right on that moment I felt betrayed. The way you made it sound so easy, so nonchalantly that I have to read it twice to believe it. I can feel a blanket of wrath slowly enveloping every inch of my body and I fought so hard to push it away.

All I can do afterwards was to stare blankly into space. It’s as if Time took a pity on me and threw me into this void where all I could think of was nothing. As if allowing me some time to fold that blanket wrath into a visible corner to remind me that I’m not powerless. Yet that merciful act wasn’t helping at all. It’s like building a dam to hold emotions temporarily in its place, collecting it; when it’s gone, it burst out like a pride of lioness fixed on their prey.

What seems like hours or a day later, it didn’t matter because the time came anyway, you walked into the room. Your eyes were scanning every muscle on my face to prepare yourself for an onslaught. Then your mouth started to ask routine questions, “What did you have for dinner?” Another move, so your ears could detect the slightest anger in my voice.

Perhaps it was my pride. Now I’m sure that it was my pride that kept me from showing you the slightest resentment. I refused to be predicted by you. If I can’t stop you from doing what you want to do then I’d very much rather keep you on your toes with my calmness.

So here I am, past midnight, still reasoning with myself over your decision. Your decision to be absent from me for a week in another country for pleasure, for the fourth time. A pleasure that involves partying yourself into a frenzy with strangers every night. And you would recount to me about it through video call the next day by simply shrugging it off with “It’s just okay”. However, I should know better. Your body language is your worst traitor.

So as much as I love you, I hate you.

I hate you because you would let my mind run amok with endless possibilities inside these concrete walls while you partake in several nights of carousing. Who are you staring at with that lust-filled eyes of yours? Who is returning back your gaze? Who is gluing so close to be able to smell the perfume on your neck?

And at the end of it all, how am I going to convince myself that all of these are just in my head?