Bruised Mind

Prelude

Prelude

"Why are you doing this?"

Napatingin ako sa kanya.

Her expression was filled with seriousness. Hindi mo ito mababakasan ng kahit na ano. Ang kaninang kalmadong awra nya ay wala na. It was now replaced by a quiet intensity that filled the space between us.

I felt the tension build as her gaze remained unwavering.

I heaved a sigh and smiled at her, but it didn't do anything. In fact, mas lalo lang syang naging seryoso dahil doon.

I know.

I know why her expression is like that.

It's because my smile didn't reach my eyes, and she saw through it. But I can't do anything about that. I can't deceive myself into thinking that everything's fine. I know that it's not, and that won't make my smile any more genuine.

"Why?" Ulit ko sa tanong nya.

I looked straight into her eyes.

"Because I need someone to talk to." Sagot ko.

I saw how her expression shifted into a grim one. I also saw pity clouding her eyes.

Gusto kong matawa bigla dahil sa naging reaksyon nya.

She's pitying me.

And why wouldn't she? I know that what I'm doing is pitiful, but this is the only way I knew to save myself. This is the only way I can release these thoughts that I kept buried deep because no one wants to listen, and I was forced to put them in a bottle with a lid, but that lid is starting to crack. Thoughts are now spilling out of that crack, and it keeps me up at night, causing me to lose sleep, my peace.

"By pretending you're talking to someone?" she asked, her tone sharper now.

My smile grew wider.

"Yes. I don't care if this conversation is not real. I just need to feel like someone's listening," I said in a clear tone.

The pity in her eyes deepened and that made my chest tighten. May kung anong dumagan doon na nagpabigat sa nararamdaman ko.

Natawa sya ng bahagya and just like me, it didn't reach her eyes. It was empty just like mine and the space around us.

"You're crazy," she said.

I know.

I'm crazy for even thinking this would help. But this is the only way I know how to stop myself from completely falling apart.

Pretending there's someone to listen gives me the strength to hold myself together, to keep from shattering into pieces. Even if it's just in my head, it helps.

I don't care if it makes me seem crazy. Writing down these thoughts, creating someone to talk to, it keeps me from drowning in silence.

Someone who listens. Someone who tells me it's okay to feel this way. That's all I need.

This lets me pull myself together and continue with my day, acting like everything is normal.

Even if this is all born from my imagination, this is enough. This will keep me alive.