3 Moments..Waiting for the Next Stranger

Moment 1: I come back from school; knock on the door; enter the room with a big smile. I just wanted to say hi to Dad; tell him about my day in school. He receives me with a slap. I was in the tenth grade at the time. Quiet a grown-up to be beaten, I thought. It was the last time I was beaten, but it’s probably the only time I still remember with the details. I know I didn’t hate my dad. Despite his temper and his abuses, he’s kind-hearted; I still love him.

Moment 2: Trying to find the emotions within me with everyone I meet. I get more intimate trying to just feel that rush within the thinnest layer of my skin. They call it butterflies, but it’s more than that; it’s a new life being bumped into your veins. I keep jumping from one person to another trying to find someone who can keep my fire going. But it just goes off in a week or two. I know I’m not a liar; I know I’m not a player. I’m honest, but that’s the only way to find that special someone, try. I thought that I’ve found that person. But I’m still frightened. I have a plan for my life, and I cannot just take a +1. Indirectly, I push her away. What if she was the one? But I still know our ways will eventually split. Then, I better not know if she’s the one.

Moment 3: I try hard to stop the bleeding, but it’s a fountain; how do I stop it? Then he takes his last gasp of breath with my hands on his face. They tell us there is hope. I knew he was gone…but I wanted to believe the lie. I slept on it. Just to wake up on a new day without his soul.

Nope, not only 3 moments; dozens of moments keep on haunting me. I cannot quiet understand why those moments. I find myself telling my stories to a total stranger, in an attempt to understand. I have the urge to go back in time and relive them. Then I remind myself, “No regrets”. And I believe it, and I move on. And I wait for the next stranger to repeat those stories to. And I know they won’t understand, but I tell them anyway.

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