Tuesday, January 17, 2012

I am a man, not a saint

I intended this to be a letter of apology. I wanted to take back many things I’ve said, things I’ve done which cost both of us much, then and now. But sometimes, even writers don’t have a command on words. They fly fast nowadays; stubborn yet canoodling. 

So this, ladies and gentlemen, is where words brought me. Once again, to a concert of boorish words stringed together without a hint of decency to provide coherence, I bring you this. 

I’m not saying sorry anymore. I’d rather be a painfully arrogant man than betray myself, again, with such humble words. I won’t say sorry for holding on to hate, for it drove me far from where I was before; stripped of dignity and of person. I won’t say sorry for sabotaging my happiness, even his. I just couldn’t allow the fact that while the world is happy, while the world is kind to him, to them, I’m being whipped mercilessly as I count the stone slabs in my cold cell. Seventy two thousand five hundred nineteen. I’ve counted them many times. 

I’m not taking back those, my words, my rage, the curses even the prayers. I have given the world so much and as much as I would defy anything to take many things back, I know I just couldn’t. Like time, those faithful nights, that part of me in him, my youth, and of course…love. But one thing I’ll take back and in great effort I swear I will: my forgiveness. 

The thing about saying sorry is you tend to forget yourself just for that moment to think of others; an admirable trait in a world slave to Narcissus. So I’ll give myself some good this time. 

Last night when I was walking home from work, tired and all from the complicated battle of speeches and papers and from a two-sentence message that slapped me late, I noticed it was a clear night sky. The staggering infinite constellation of stars before me was overwhelming. It was a very long time since I last look up at the night sky and admire the splendor of those distant creatures of the universe. They’re like sparkling tears threatening to fall from a woman’s beautiful face. I wondered what have I been doing for the past years that I didn’t stop, all those nights that were spent wandering on the cold streets under the shade of electric stars, instead of dreaming about open skies. 

I wanted to say sorry to myself because of the many things I did, the many wrong turns despite the many cautions. But it will break my recent proclamation against it. Besides, what will it accomplish? 

“He’s told me a lot of times how sorry he was. But he never asked, not even a single time, for my forgiveness. Or admit what he did to me was wrong.”

-Hidden Journal

I have no new words for myself or for anyone. Here I am, counting stars in my limited fingers. I’m not saying sorry anymore. For there is truth to my rage, to my selfishness, to late night phone calls, to novenas, to stolen touches, to excruciating pains of betrayal, of spite, and of condescending lies. Maybe in another life, or in another universe, we’ll find a new way to say sorry. Or better, a new way of forgiving. 

Weekend, around 5 in the afternoon, on our way home, we stopped by in a restaurant along North Luzon Expressway. After dining, we just sat there at the van while the kids play and ran around. My 2 year old niece, Miel, who shrieks in high commanding voice as her cousins leave her behind, fat legs and uncomfy Pampers just couldn't make up in catching speed, always finds herself at lost when the youngesters start to rumble as she was the youngest. She would yell and say “stars! stars! stars!” jumping, a finger pointing up to the fading sky above. This, her older cousins, would just ignore, thinking she’s making it up just to be able to catch up. The sun, after all, is still streaming its golden-before-dawn streaks of light. But as I look up, I saw them. There they are, stars, sparkling in their faintest light before the powerful sun. In a while, as darkness begins to unfurl, their beauty is unmatched. 


Tu vois, j’suis pas un homme 
(You see I’m not a man) 
Je suis le roi de l’illussion 
(I am the king of illusion) 
Au fond qu’on me pardonne 
(After all, I may be forgiven) 
Je suis le roi, le roides cons 
(I am the king, the king of the fools) 

J’ai fait le monde a ma facon 
(I’ve built the world in my way) 
Coulé dans l’or et le béton 
(In concrete lined with gold) 
Corps en cage et coeur en prison
(A caged body, a prisoned heart) 
Moi je tourney, en rond, je tourney en rond
(Yes, I go round in circles, round in circles) 

-from Je Suis Un Homme (I am a man) by Zazie

8 reaction(s):

Nate said...

screw coherence!! hahaha! :P lika nga, lil bro.. *hugs*

anyare sa 'yo? is this related to the, "you know"? or not?

Leomer Apolonio said...

They say anger is like a poison you drink, expecting the other person to die. I say forgiveness does the same thing. You drink it and expect the other person to be cured. As for me, forgetting is much better. But it's just hard, plain hard to do.

Victor Saudad said...

"sorry seems to be the hardest word..."

Guyrony said...

A mere apology can either heal a wound or open a can of worms.

There, there DB, you know you don't owe the world an apology...

rudeboy said...

Someday - hopefully soon, DB - I hope you will be referencing Piaf's Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien instead of branding yourself le roi des imbéciles.

citybuoy said...

This is just beautiful. And I hate to think of what you had to go through to write this with conviction. It's nice to know the stars are there to remind us that some things are always there, eternal in beauty.. but what do we do on nights where even the stars elude us.

kalansaycollector said...

mahirap talagang magpatawad.

well ako i forgive, but i don't forget. pero hindi ako mapagtanim. naaalala ko lang ang kasalanang ginawa sakin. hehe


Gian said...

human: soft, squishy, touchy and puny. we are born alone with our teeth and nails to protect us from others, and an uncertain heart to defend us from within.

i like your consistency deebee, unlike some of us.


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