By DIVINA NOVA JOY DELA CRUZ

I am no longer longing for the subtlety of an empty sleep, sound and silent, rattling and rumbling in all its stillness. In all my melancholy, I need it. I am tired and all I need is a strong dose of a poisonous beverage to get that rest.

At least it is less painful than the strains of goodbye at its very last. Less painful than the nights I spend with my comrade called insomnia. It visits and reminds me of the torturing flames of my stupidity. It tells me I can no longer trust the eyes that once spelled the truths behind the lies your tongue uttered. I can no longer sleep at night.

I wanted you to get acquainted with my comrade. In which way, we can be united. This was one of my concerns when I held you back the last time we struggled apart from each other. Every smoke you inhale is the smoke that gets in my eyes. Smoke reminds me of sleep. It floats freely, gracefully in the open air. Your eyes pierce my own existence and divulge my other identity, when I have minimum control over myself. Your hand on the tip of my finger brings scratches to my soul. It still does. And it felt so powerful I forgot all about my comrade. You possessed me like poetry. I have loved you in a selfish way.

But I wanted you to get acquainted with my comrade. Before the times we needed to talk about you, my comrade once woke me in the middle of a restless sleep. We did not talk about you or my grief. It told me nonfiction tales about the grief of other people, far more aching than my pains. I was never alone with pain. Their pains never even penetrated my selfish grief. I had a choice but not these people. Their pain encompasses the physical and the emotional, more than the stomachaches and heart throbbing. Their pains have been deep-rooted from the constraints of society, from the erroneous history. I missed my comrade’s stories. And because I have loved myself in a selfish way, I missed the time I spent with my comrade, when we joined the struggle to ease the people’s pain.

And although my comrade is a strong, poisonous cup, it never left me. It had every reason to stay with me at night. It boggles my mind and reminds me of my stupidity when I forgot all about it and our struggles together. At the moment my comrade told me I was needed, my head was bashed to the nearest wall.

I have loved in a selfish way. At least, I reckoned the need to stay goodbye. I had to leave you. Because my affection is for a thousand comrades. I cannot swear my love only to you.

I would not need a strong poisonous cup after all. As long as my comrades need me for the struggle, I can never sleep. I never will. ●

First published in the Collegian’s December 2, 2003 issue with the title “A strong poisonous cup.”