On Happiness.

For a while you think that everything’s perfect, and that there’s nothing more you could ever want. But then you realize that it’s not how things should be. Reality is far from what we imagine. Sweet. Unpredictable. Cruel. You never know what to expect. “Life is like a box of chocolates,” Forrest Gump said. “You never know what you’re gonna get.” But chocolate, like everything else, doesn’t last.

I was so happy that day, laughing by his side. Everything seemed so perfect. It felt so different. So inevitable. For the first time, I truly felt alive, not knowing how the roots underneath were slowly dying. I revel in each moment, oblivious to the nothingness that awaits.

Why is it that each time that I am happy, I seem to pay the price with my tears? Is it because I don’t deserve to be happy? Because I’m simply unworthy? Don’t I deserve such gift like everyone else?

I have long reconciled with the fact that death would be the final payment for the debts that I owe, for the life I’ve lived, and for the memories that make me who I am. But must I take each breath of joy incompletely, knowing that pain’s unrelenting embrace awaits, as I lay shivering at the chill of the knowledge of being unworthy? Nothing is without a price after all. What we think is free has already been paid for by someone else’s tears.

I ask these questions in silence, while drowning in the fact of being alone.

He doesn’t understand. I am but the razor to make him see the truth. And I am afraid that my words might shatter his soul… and the life he gave to me.

To bathe in the glory of happiness and fulfillment, and to be pierced by daggers of ice not long after I’ve tasted the sweetness. We all live in borrowed happiness, each second fleeting, leaving you with an emptiness so full at its wake. I sit here paralyzed and unable to grasp its real meaning, not knowing how to stop hurting myself. Wanting to stay away from you yet having no courage to walk. I need to go… to shield myself from the pain that you are causing. But leaving would mean my death. My life's end. The vows we kept, the promises made, and dreams envisioned shall fade in a blur. No longer living, but not yet dead.

Forever didn’t exist.

Forever was a dream, something one could never grasp.

I would never know whether I was wrong to believe in something so unreal as death lurks in every corner, stalking its prey. The death of life and the death of hope. But with you, I believed in the happiness of living.

I believed in us.

Those fairy tales did have a semblance of reality after all. Only that life’s stories end in many ways. Among the many boxes on the storyboard, the last one always ends up torn.

For fate to bring us together and hate to tear us apart, I could never understand. I had the chocolate in my hands, but somehow along the way, a realization that too much of it can make me feel sick.

“God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh."