People have different ways of coping with stress. Some would cry their hearts out until they can cry no more. Others would eat their fat ass out until their jeans could accommodate those extra ass-pounds no more. Others would seek the refuge of their friends and loved ones. And still others would seek the sanctuary of their own rooms, seeking silence and bearing the pain all alone, waiting for time to once again give its magical cure of healing all wounds.

Right now, I am under tremendous stress. I tried to cry. But what can i do? Even tears cannot wash away the pain I feel. I tried to eat, everything has tasted so bland I could only stuff myself with one bite. And yes, i have lost weight... terribly. No, i didnt go to my loved ones. I did go to my friends. But their glorious advice for me to still hope and commit. These are noble advices. But if you see me walk, you won't see the walk of a man who has just found freedom. You'll see the walk of a man who has lost everything. If I could only launch a thousand ships to bring her back to our island.

 I sought the silence of my room, but everywhere I looked, I saw her. And as time goes by, the memory of her and the acceptance of the fact that I have loved her far too much, just makes me worse than before.

I remember a line from a movie, where a broken hearted man said that like any other man whose heart was broken, "I went to war." I would want to go to war. Join the military perhaps. Drown the pain in exchange for another pain. If i ciould only do that. In fact, if I could only go to any war, I would. But not a war with her. The consequences are always too dire. But I was always too dumb to realize this. UNtil I lost.

I lost her.

So here I am, having my own version of relieving myself of this gargantuan stress that has pinned me to the ground, crushing me. And what am I doing? I have with me a mug. This is not some ordinary mug. This is the mug that has been my constant companion during times like this. And beside it is its partner, the pitcher, filled with the coldest Red Horse beer, the strongest beer out in a sari-sari store. And I am hoping that after I drink the last drop, I'd have felt its kick. I hope it knocks me out. I haven't been sleeping well lately.

(Oh the god of sleep and the god of love must have colluded to punish me, for where I can be with her in my dreams, slumber has never sneaked itself to my eyes.)

I am a mess. The messiest I have ever been. And although I promised to myself I'd fix me, the real issue is not really about fixing me. The real issue is, how long will it take before I can fix me. Your guess is as good as mine. For, apparently, I, who should be in the best position to know who I am, don't know myself anymore. I do not know what I have become, or how I became like this. I wanted to follow the bread crumbs backwards, so I could at least determine the wrong turns I made. But I have done that a thousand times. I have already marked the wrong turns that I made. But the farther I go backwards, the more I discover that both of us made wrong turns. I wanted to fix those. Perhaps, make a map. But if a map has to be made, both of us should work together. The future will still be an undiscovered terrain. But if we work things out, everything will be just fine.

But she doesn't want that. She wants her own map. She wants to carve a path where I don't fit, where I will get lost. Where I lose myself entirely; whereas, I tried to carve a path for both of us, where we could go side by side. It wouldn't be perfect. There will be times when we will argue where to turn and what to do. But for me, as long as I held her hand, as long as she held mine, I'd eventually make the right turns. And she wouldn't be disappointed anymore.

She said if she only knew me, she wouldn't have entered into a relationship with me. She was right. I would have said the same thing to her. But i don't. i never will. Because I believe a relationship is not like a job, that if you don't like the work load, you quit. A relationship is more than that. It requires a different commitment. This commitment does not only demand that you accept the reality that the future is unknown. It demands that you brace yourself for what is to come, for relationships are not like kindergarten romance, fairy tales, and happily-ever-afters. it demands not only the courage to accept what you already know about your partner, but also the courage to acknowledge his strengths, and to help him with his weaknesses. It should always go both ways. And it should always be accompanied with understanding, not dejection. For with dejection, you'll only be pushing yourself away, consciously or unconsciously. And you will feel worse.

But how you see things will determine how you will approach a trial. As they say, you can always see a pail as half empty, or as half full. If you see it as half empty, you will never have joy, even the simplest of ones (and mind you, the simplest of joys are actually the spices that make life more meaningful) for you'll never appreciate the effort that has been put  in order to reach that far. You will only see failure. But if you see it as half full, you will always have comfort in the fact that you have achieved this far. There will be more sacrifices, but even the smallest drops shall be a source of joy.

But the only drops I have left are tears. I am actually hoping that my pail of tears is half full. That way, I know I am half way to fixing myself. But i dont know. I dance at the edge of sanity now, but only because I allowed myself to be madly in love with you. But I will never trade this for the whole world.

My pitcher is already empty. The mug is still half full (half empty?). Still, I am not yet a bit tipsy. And I keep on wondering... Have I just been the fool?