Thoughts

“A man’s despair is easy to fathom because they may say they hide it and may not show it but when he moves on, as he takes every step forward, all his follies and burden fall into the deep recesses of the mind only to emerge, one day, as ammunition to keep his life going on.”                                  -Liao



He stared at himself at the mirror, looking at the face of a worthless man. He can’t even pity himself because that would be an understatement. Before, he has prided himself of being an outcast, a rebel, one who is strong enough to face the troubles of life alone. But now he knows that all just face. It’s not true. He wants it to be so though, so badly right now. He doesn’t even bother to punch the wall or break the glass in front of him. No amount of overt act could make things better or could make it all go away. The concept of time just is irritating to him because you can’t turn it back.



He steps out of the bathroom, grabs his jacket and leaves the mess he made in room. He couldn’t bear to clean it. It reminds him more of what he lost, of what he did that made him lose whatever that was. He just kept walking, down the stairs, out the parking lot of the motel and into the streets, turning on every alley hoping to find a dead end so he could slump down and maybe die. Thoughts keep running in his head about everything. If thoughts had voices they would be all shouting at the same moment, at the same loud frequency and he still would keep walking. Maybe he was afraid that if he would stop he might break, show the weakness that’s been clawing out of him all these years and is now more vicious that ever to get out. Like a monster finally seeing the keys to his prison cell and is grabbing it with all its might wanting to make an appearance into his world. The more you hold down a beast the more it struggles for its life.



At least the alley he’s walking into is dark and for sure no one will see him. He stopped and rested his back against the wall and slumped down. And he just sat there. You see, at first he didn’t want the life he was born into. Where he was and knowing where it would lead to doesn’t seem to appeal to him because he knew he was something more than that. He was something more than an actor’s or musician’s son. He was more of a person. All the fame and glory and light and money seemed all too fake to him. Not that he’s a cliché to most of the children who felt that way about their famous parents but because his parents weren’t exactly like those other actors or musicians, they were worse. They totally love the spotlight because of the attention and they totally love the attention for the fame, not because of the artistry of it all but because of the vanity of it all. All they cared about was being at the right places with the right people and usually that meant hose with money and power and whom they could use to boost their careers…or egos. And it sickened him. He left when he was old enough and quite easily since his parents weren’t really looking after him. He didn’t want to become a weapon in the furtherance of his parent’s shallow status. He didn’t even take money. All he had were the clothes on his back. It was only difficult in the beginning but once you change you’re name, cut your hair and brake your own nose to be unnoticeable by the seeking public then it’s a grand life. For him at least, because his life would be his own and he would live his life to the fullest. He never regretted the life he chose for himself, until now, at least.



Rats scampered across the dirty pavement and watched and listened to the sounds of more creatures of the filth and dark around him. He was used to this and he can take it. At this moment he thought that he wished that he was an ignorant person. Ignorant of the civilized world, a world where people come together in a big social zest pool of intelligence, awareness, success, love, despair, broken dreams and money. What he wouldn’t give to be a complete hermit, living on a mountain top in a small little shack, keeping to himself and figuring out what and how to get food and not knowing about the big world out there. Isolation isn’t just enough for him right now. What he needs is ignorance; of not knowing what he knows now, of not knowing his past, his present of his future, and most especially of why he deserves this. 



He wanted to do something, to shout, to kick, to go crazy, even just to moan. Even at this moment, when he aspired something so badly, he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t clench his fingers or grind his teeth. He just stared at the opposite wall. For other people, being alone in times of desperation is not the best way to be because it’s better to be distracted, to keep all the thoughts away. But for him it’s different. Being around people makes it worse. But not like it’s helping him. Being different entails being alone and since he never thought of himself as like the others, he suffers as he should, in silence and solitude.



He slowly lies down sideways on the dry pavement, putting his hands under his head. He tucked his legs cup and closer to his torso, waiting for sleep to come. The thoughts never stopped churning in his head though. All the things that ever came into his mind were slowly creeping up on him and he cringes in his mind at every mistake and blunder and laughs invisibly at every opposite moment. He turned his body towards the sky and watches as the stars above him sparkle. There were times that he believed that everything is in place, even those out in space, that every rock and element all in its own corner of the universe. He drifted into sleep thinking otherwise, that everything was chaos and gravity doesn’t have a pull on the things that doesn’t wanna be where they are.



It was faint at first. He thought he’s hearing someone from his dream. But he seemed completely aware. He could feel the cold, dry pavement beneath him and smell the garbage bin just a few feet away. He could even hear the cars just at the end of the alley. Morning traffic.



“hey mister,” someone nudged him by the feet. He tried to open up his eyes. When his lids parted, it was a little fuzzy then the shapes came into focus. He blinked a couple of times then looked up at the kid. “mister are you all right?” the kid with the big brown eyes asked. He looked around him then propped up on his shoulders slowly, using his elbow a wedge. “yeah kid. Thanks.” He said politely.