Some things are not forgotten easily, regardless of how hard you try.
It is not a matter of will nor resolute.
A random link, a flash in the mind, a trigger is all it takes to ignite thoughts.
Admittedly, I am angry. The moral ground does not erode the fact that I am indeed angry, bitter, disappointed, ___________ ( fill in the blank with an appropriate adjective.)
You have become synonymous with my near-ruin, my pain and everything negative but.
Yes, I should have told You. It was my fault for keeping mum till there was no turning back. I accept responsibility for that.
What could I have done? I waited for a word, an affirmation. I would have. But nary did an inch move. Besides, given the stance adopted, brushing aside and denial would have been the answer, anyway.
Was it?
Friends I've lost trying to guard this, in Your name, for me to bear the brunt for your peace from the beginning. Did You think it was an easy task?
They said You did. I was afraid to face up to it and so, denial became a familiar shroud because I wouldn't believe that of all, it would be me. Feeling that I wasn't good enough, I fought hard not to.
Yet, with each word, smile and message, resolution crumbled in a heap. Were You anything but? Waking up daily in anticipation of sweet words concocted while I was asleep became a habit, a growing dependence. Etched in my mind was a childhood figure - of flamboyance, of awe, of inspiration.
Breathing colours of life into my existence, this figure came, sat down and forged its permanence. Much time was frittered, cajoled from pressing schedules and such.
Culminating to a climax of theatrical proportions, I started to believe. And so, there lay the foundation of an entrapment that would tangle and choke in artifice.
Finally, after what You did, I decided that it was Time. The Exchange at The Wall was the approving nod, wasn't it? Clever little Mich didn't quite turn out to be that intelligent after all for as words lingered at the tip of my tongue, everything shattered with That.
And so, I've never told You.
When things ought to have been thrashed there and then, I turned and fled. Embroiled with anger, disappointment and bitterness, perhaps it was to mask the acknowledgement that I had been foolish. The price to pay was appropriate for weaving conjured dreams.
At times, I would wonder if you had even noticed my abrupt turnabout. With Time, I watched with growing envy, repressing emotions that surfaced. Vested interests reaped a reward of negligible returns. Of honour and valour, virtues oft preached, they were but my poor excuses for bowing out.
"I should have fought him, but instead I let him take it."There was I, wretched to have failed as the righteous Christian that I was once proud to be. It was the single blemish in my spiritual life. Many a time, I'd demand to know that if I had done the right thing, was this spiralling into depression my blessing in return? Was this constant stumbling over You a paid compliment? And so, I started avoiding the core existence of my being - Church. Concocted excuses became a weekly routine.
Where once Mich had a happy life, the embroilment bogged and it became weary to live the facade. Should judgement and castigation even whimper, it would have been deemed unacceptable for I sought perfection. Thus, the silent pantomime of my own became a way to live.
Why should I have to be unhappy? The Man loves Mich dearly. Why should my mind flit to the old remnants, replaying reels of Time that are fraught with nought?
To this date, Your name has not been uttered within this literary perimeter. The moniker does not matter for You would know that You are, well, you. What I speak of is mere gibberish to the ignorant but You would understand.
For You have always understood Mich, haven't You?
And I, till this day, have little inkling of Your true identity. Are You what I'd perceived? Were You conceived out of mere fantasy? Why do I constantly receive feedback that you're a Master of manipulation? Why do coincidences run aground between us? Little can be done about the Past and I am not one to rock the boat of the Present.
Do You? Did You? Have You? Were You?
Does it matter anymore?
It gnaws at me, this need to set things right.
To know the Past. To set apart the Present. To live the Future.
Then again, You're not here.
Till the next time, I guess, Mr Faraway.
When will my Reflection show who I am inside?
