i feel utterly speechless, and perhaps sick, as i think of that night. it was not even out of spontaneity – the force of circumstances has its odd way to make fun of our imaginary selves and shatter whatever still left for us to make believe. as i revisit the moments that preluded the long night, it was almost like a prearranged ritual whose sole purpose was to merely walk me through what had to be done. to burn the very bridge that had been tenuously connecting myself to the memories i still couldn’t let go of; to those seemingly grand principles, if not descending illusions, that i once believed to be my fate; and to what i unabashedly called love.

it just doesn’t matter anymore. i am done. they are just narratives, certain ways that we choose to make sense of what happen to us. my heart went numb eventually, left with a distinct sting of sorrow. and now i find myself feeling weightless and yet intact; i am set free. i just want to live my life to the fullest with no regret looking backwards. this is my life, and what left behind at the other side of the bridge, would just remain as my landscape, still and tranquil.

“fate is what happens to us. destiny is what we do in spite of that."




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