I’ve been running away for too long
Too scared of the chase, a play that you invented.
But how… Is it really called ‘running away’ if there’s no one that chases?
All my life, I have feared. Too see, to feel, to remember and come pass by a glimpse of you. It was a nightmare of the past that I no longer want to be part of; something I even tortured myself to forget as I struggled to get rid of.
I feared enough to run away from you in all of the chances I can.
So far that I can’t even trash memories, I can’t even stop remembering.
The very image it looked like and the very emotions and feelings felt, all is vividly presented in my head in an unending loop.
To harbor these wretched memories and make myself remember “Look what happened the last time”
All this just so that if I encountered something familiar as these
one similarity or one that connects a single thread to it
I’d know it is something that should be avoided
I’ll it’s something I should destroy once and for all
I would know it is something should be discarded
And do all that it takes to ruin it
so I won’t get hurt again
But then again I was so deluded with my fear that I can’t even visit the grave. Why must I be afraid?
Of the ghost? I didn’t even see the body.
Why must I be afraid of the angered soul?
I was never even visited by the ghost that I have always feared was watching me.
Not that I saw because I have always avoided.
So why?
I might have been too stuck to being delusional that I’d always think that it’s out to get me when in fact it is already buried.
I was too focused on running away I didn’t even stopped to check whether someone’s chasing after me.
And all this time, I was afraid. I never knew the play was ages ago finished.
I was the only one running away but checked to see, and there was no one who chased.
Maybe rather being afraid of the corpse, I must first check the grave.
I should accept that it was long gone and to finally move on and not be afraid.
So the next time I encounter the same body, the same casket, the same flowers and memories — I will no longer be afraid.
Because the tale was long gone and tiredly spoken and the book was even buried. She was part of the past and there’s a reason she’s not included in the present.
When a day comes when it’s no longer a nightmare but a ‘once was’ a part of me, I will no longer feel the shiver when telling the tale of our story.
— — —
Writer’s note:
I’m not talking about nightmares.