Truth Untold

9

the Sunday Blues

May 6th;

Sundays are the day to unwind, to drop all your stress and become free for one day of the week. Sundays are for baking, to pay the absence of 9-5 working shift on weekdays. Sundays are for the days I become what I dreamed to be. On Sundays, I become the talk of my town, the protagonist of my own story, the A-list hot superstar of Hollywood of the world I created inside my head. In short, Sundays become the days where dreams come true.

However, May 6th woke me up way earlier than my usual Sundays. The sun even shone a tad bit brighter before six in the morning. The smell of last night's donuts baking—Mom baked at least 50 pieces of donuts last night—greeted me instead of the usual hot chocolate thickly lingering in the air. Speaking of donuts, "Happy birthday, Mom!" I exclaimed happily, hugging her in a bone crushing hug tightly. She chuckled, smiling so widely nevertheless. "Thank you, sweetheart."

It wasn't my mother's birthday that woke me up early. These donuts didn't have correlation with her birthday, in case you're wondering. In fact, I had a flight to catch at eight in the morning. I had to leave for Cincinnati for two days, a business trip, before coming back as a whole for the better.

Soon, I was already leaving home on a Sunday morning, by a car driven by my dear brother, air con as cold to the bone as I had to wear Efrain's jacket.

I was just idling in the waiting lounge, sending text to Efrain. I was hoping for something like 'take care', 'have a safe flight', 'you're gonna do great as always' or something that sounded like sorts. I was hoping as the way I would leave, Efrain would at least be missing me. As my phone vibrated though—a new WhatsApp from him—only I realized that life was harsh and truth was cold. Goodbye, he texted me; A fucking harsh cold goodbye. No see you when you come back, no more I'll see you soon when you're here again, all there was just a fucking cold goodbye that told me to fucking go away. Where the hell is good in goodbye?

Efrain Harris [7.15am]

Goodbye.

Constance Clairé [7.16am]

why do I feel like you're telling me that you're leaving?

Efrain Harris [7.16am]

Because I am

Things hadn't been so smooth these past couple of days and I knew Efrain had a hard time unlatching himself from me, as he over and over again made his intentions clear that he was about to excuse himself. I just didn't think he would bid fucking goodbye on day like this, where the sky was far too clear to feel grey. Moreover, on day he knew I needed his support at most.

I hated it. I hated the fact that my heart skipped beating for a second. I forgot how to breathe for a couple of minutes. I wanted the earth to just swallow me a whole. I wanted to disappear, to be not seen on earth. I wanted to hide, to cry as loud as my heart wanted to shout it out but they just called my flight number and all I could do was put on a strong façade, chin up, and shoulders straight as I boarded the plane.

I crashed onto my seat, right one next to the window. Wondering as the plane flew off of the ground; would the pain fly off as well? Turn out, it didn't. If there was, the high pressure and low amount of oxygen above beyond the clouds only felt like a choke on my neck, a lump in my throat even though I had nothing to consume this morning, yet I still feel like throwing up.

"Are you okay?"

"I am fine." There went the famous lie of my generation. Why lying? Because if you ever felt like to cry but have to suppress the sound of crying on a pillow, because if you ever felt like your world crumbling right before your eyes but you can only watch from a far and do nothing, because if you ever felt like running back home to him at the speed of light but instead you're glued to the ground hugging yourself tightly; Then you would as well say you're fine. It would be so much easier to say you're fine than to tell them how you actually are doing.

Because at the end of the day you only have yourself, everyone else will only leave and you've stopped telling them your problems, so they stopped sympathizing to sadness that you felt through and through. Because Efrain, a best friend of a lifetime, whom you thought would never leave, left you at the time you needed him the most. You're tired of running after him but you missed him too much. It killed your legs to run more but it tore you to pieces to just stand on your ground doing nothing as you watched him from the other side. In the end, everyone leaves—even Efrain—and that's why I stopped believe how spark once ignited between us.

Here lays my heart in all last pieces of the ruin; broken and naked, for you. You were never responsible for the hurt I was feeling, but these pieces only wanted you in order to be healed. Can I ask you a favor for one last time? Stay.