Human beings have this inherent propensity for hedonism. We pursue pleasure, avoid pain, and ensure survival at all costs. Ethics would say that people's tendency to seek pleasure is exclusively dependent on how it would affect one's well-being.
If something makes us happy, we chase it. If something hurts us, we distance ourselves from it.
It is that simple, is it not?
No... It isn't... because every once in awhile, we meet martyrs who are willing to lay down their happiness for others.
We grow up hearing the greatest stories of self-sacrifice for the sake of love. Our innocent romantic hearts would swoon and then we grow up, we find love and realize that martyrdom hurts like hell.
...
I was trying to keep myself from shaking as I finished reading his letter.
That stupid, stupid man who thinks he knows what I wanted. How dare he decide for the both of us?
I could strangle him if he was in front of me right now.
The night he walked out, he left me confused and hurt, both of which eventually festered to anger. And then I had Sam and decided that I was not going to bring him up in a home where anger dwells. No. This little person is dependent on me and my love alone and I will not fail him. So I decided to forgive Ian but forgiving without understanding is a difficult concept to grasp— especially since we ended too abruptly. He loved me the day before and then he no longer wanted to do anything with me the following day, which I now realize is a whole bunch of crap. But until today, I didn't. In fact, I took his words to heart that I never bothered telling him that we have a son. A son that may never get to meet his father because his father is a stupid, self-sacrificing martyr who wanted to shield me from his world.
I am boiling in annoyance. We lost two years together because of this stunt of his and there is a possibility that we may lose him forever because his plane crashed and he is missing.
Rage, Fear, Anxiety.
The fucking trifecta decided to hit me all at once.
My thoughts were broken when I heard the shuffling in the bed and saw Sam crawling towards me.
"Mumma okay?" he asked that had me smiling
My sweet, sweet boy
"Mum's okay bub, go back to sleep" I whispered to him as he climbed on my lap
"Mumma sing, pwease" he requested and sported those puppy dog eyes I could never say to no to.
I carried him up, leaning him on my shoulder, supporting his back with my other arm, and swayed with him.
You are the one who makes me happy when everything else turns to grey
Sam gave that song an entirely new meaning but as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, memories of the night of Ian's birthday, when I sang that song and the emotions I had, made themselves known with a force like an avalanche. I felt my voice crack and he seemed to noticed my distress.
"Shhh"
The anger I felt earlier faded and my eyes started to water. His breathing evened out and I tucked him in the bed before I went to the kitchen. I was supporting myself on the counter, trying to calm myself down. The shaking returned and I clamped a hand on my mouth, a placebo attempt to keep the tears at bay but a sob escaped and the floodgates of my eyes opened.
Damn you, Ian Marcus. Damn you for making me love you still.
I woke up with a heavy feeling. I forced myself to get up and prepare for the day. It was the weekend and it normally meant Going to Park Day. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed how puffy my eyes seemed. I let out a sigh and proceeded to stand under the relieving warmth of the water cascading on my back. The shower is where I often organize my thoughts. Today was not going to be a Park Day.
BINABASA MO ANG
Love in the Time of Vanity Fair
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