Haunted

A cruel part of reality involves a heart managing to keep on beating even after it has been shattered into pieces.

A few months ago, 12 A.M. usually fixed everything. I’ve always had this conviction that I’m different from the rest. Monsters would commonly dwell under the beds of their prey, and yet mine chose to inhabit the deepest parts of my head. At midnight, I would lay awake in the dark, in a barren state where I would wait for the arrival of these “monsters” and nurse them. Technically, the hour involves the rich velvet blanket of black tempting my heavy eyelids, but for me, it’s about the chaos of wild contemplations and unspoken words refusing to let me drift away into sweet slumber. Twelve is about reflection. A transient paradise to indulge in before confronting the new tortures of tomorrow.

Until he appeared.

He who chased away all of these monsters. He who left traces of vivacity to my once monochromatic nights. He who replaced my restlessness with peace. He who allowed me to experience feelings I was unaccustomed of.

Admiration.

Importance.

… Love.

Pain.

Suffering.

Although I believe it is more than just suffering every time I witness how he soulfully gulps every gush of liquor, as if it were the only antidote to cease the poison crippling his heart; how his eyes form cascading waterfalls while exclaiming “I miss you!” like a rehearsed melody, with a name I cannot call my own.

Now, my midnights are nothing but a plethora of agonizing nausea, broken glass, and palpable misery.

His misery of losing her.

My misery of seeing him longing for her.

It has been a ritual. He will enter the bar at 10 PM. Then, he will either fancy a game of cards with a company of drunkards or head straight for the bartender with this insatiable quench for every concoction the employee has to offer. The drunk and aloof aura he exerts proves to be a real lady magnet: Blondes, Brunettes, Asians, Latinas — you name it. Nevertheless, he spared not a single damn, and ignored the walking temptations a man is typically unable to resist. Not with only her image engraved on his mind.

The alcohol will completely kick in soon. The instant this occurs, he will throw a fit of laughter, and later, a fit of sobs. It will require a brief moment for the outline of his slumped shoulders to fully collapse on the marble counter, and his mournful eyes to shut and stop the tears.

Watching him in that morose state often triggers me to ponder:

Why am I even trying?

He gave me every reason to leave. However, like a lovesick fool, I got pretty creative over the time as I invented every excuse for staying. The epitome of joy in my life happened when he became mine. I was well-aware about his condition, about the void he attempted to satisfy after she exited his life; and with a broom and a dustpan, I tried so hard to pick up all the fragments she left him in, believing that I can be the girl’s foil — the one to fix his broken self. His moon to lighten up his darkest moments after his sun disappeared.

But I know that his raven eyes do not see me the way my brown eyes do with him. The depths of those irises weren’t abysmal enough for them to hide that it is not me which they reflect. It was still her.

Sometimes, when we’re walking side by side, I would quietly steal a glance at his nonchalant face, and then proceed on inspecting his mouth, his neck, his hands, his hips — with the thought of her touching him enveloping my head.

And every time I made him promises, he would flash a smile that does not reach his eyes. Perhaps she made the same promises before and wasn’t able to fulfill them.

As I watch him slumbering within the drunken chaos, I would question how someone as wonderful as him could love a monster like the woman who came before me.

I don’t know if I could ever eradicate his sadness.

I don’t know if I’m enough to piece him back.

As much as I hate to admit it, maybe it is an eternity before I could compete with her.

I could only wince at the thought, but every corner of us is haunted by her.

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Author’s note: Hi! This is my first time to share my craft. I’m sorry if I committed any mistake in terms of grammar, spelling or punctuation. I’ll do my best to improve it. Constructive criticisms are welcome. Thank you for reading!