No More Peanut Butter

She’s at it again! For the nth time, she slithered herself back into the arms of a guy who’s a total dumbass in a freakingly complicated set-up (read: married guy). Anyway, my 8 hr sleep was cut short last night, because my phone was blasting, with a realtune ringtone HELP! By John Farnham. I knew, that my bestfriend was at the other end of the line, screaming incredulities and sobbing like a gilded butterfly. She’s at it AGAIN!

At the unholiest hour of 1:26AM, I was fighting temptation to doze off and head back to slumberlandia while struggling to listen to her most vicious litanies. Of course, as the ever dependable BFF, I had to be with her. I just let her. And when she’s come around, she’d ask almost always for my piece of advice. And I said,

“Isn’t everything we do in life, a way for us to be loved? Isn’t it a powerful line, ter? And we never really thought about it. But really, isn’t it true? Gus is hurting you now, like he did in the past. Bob and David similarly brought you pain many years ago too. You were hurt because you knew they were married, and yet you continued to having a purportedly legit affair with them. You held on, because that’s the way for you to be loved. It becomes a pattern now, huh? Precisely because, you found comfort in the aching yet familiar set-ups. The danger of uncertainties it brings with makes you feel invincible, until you no longer can differentiate pain from pleasure. You are scared to seek a more tangible relationship. Say, a single decent guy. Is it because you don’t know how and what it will be? And so you settle for a little less like love. You sulk and wait. And waiting can be mean. You continue to hurt. But then, you don’t know anymore what pain and joy are all about. Because, sad truth is you are already used to hurting yourself. That is camouflages your kindred spirit. You don’t care anymore if you die, ter, because you’re dead already. Your heart is cold. That’s why you keep coming back to him. You’re not free. You need this pain to feel alive. It’s pathetic.”

Dead silence. She was holding her breath, trying to find the right words to say. But wisdom isn’t friendly to a disheveled soul at past 1AM. I was surprised too, in my own words. The phone clicked, no words were spoken from her. I know my BFF. And when she’s at it again, I’d make sure coffee comes handy on my bedside table.