"Oh, I was out doing stuffs. You know, I have been having so many errands to do lately."
He shifted his weight to his right foot and tilted his head to the left the way he does when he's contemplating about important things to decide on; like which ice cream flavor to feast on after lunch.
"What? Stop looking at me like that!"
"These errands you run for people, are they more important to you than I am?"
I let out a loud sigh hoping that he'll get the hint of my exasperation and rolled my eyes, battling with myself if I should get into another argument with him.
I never win, anyway. Neither does he. But in his own little mind, he thinks he does and that makes a world of difference. There lies the seed of exuberance for every possibility of argument. I can see the mischievous glint in his eyes now. I know what he's up to.
His eyebrows creased together in a frown as he tries to hide his surprise while figuring out what's next to come.
"Don't play dumb with me. You heard me well." I can feel my cheeks flushing and my blood creeping up to my face. Oh, no. He's not going to win this time.
I couldn't help the smile that involuntarily eased into my lips as I see him shift uncomfortably in his feet while desperately trying to delay coming up close to me. He doesn't like surprises and I can tell he's loathing every moment of my impending victory.
About 6 feet away from me, he suddenly stopped dead on his tracks and disarmingly flashed me that impish grin. He hasn't uttered a sound yet but I knew instantly that he'd won. And he knows it. Gloat is painted all over that smug smile across his face.
He shifted his weight again to his right foot and tilted his head to the left and ever so softly said,
Gawahon Eco Park, Victorias City, Neg. Occ.
There are battles that just cannot be won. That no matter how you do it, you'd still end up losing somehow. In some twisted and perverse situations, winning sometimes actually means giving up and letting go.
So you leave the cause that's left you with a burning heart for a thousand nights and let go of the thread-bare hope that's keeping you and your sanity all in one pathetic piece.
The word stalemate leaves a bitter and haunting taste in your mouth. Every memory is a slap to the face. And on some long and lonely nights, it would rain and you'd find yourself drowning in the smothering pitter patter of water on the corroded tin of your roof.
Holding a cup of tear drenched coffee, you drown yourself in the Ethiopic beauty of the world's greatest drug. Charge it to experience, you'd tell yourself in a feeble attempt of comfort.
Love is a stranger. Suddenly, it's all just war now. And you're alone. This is all too familiar now. You begin to fight yourself, starting with the infamous what-ifs. You know you still won't win this time, either.
What a shame.