The Life of a Friend

This is a true story of a friend of mine. He asked that I write his story without naming names for the sake of related people's privacy:

MY LIFE IN A MOVIE

Have you seen a movie in real life? Well, I have; with my VERY own two eyes. The only difference is that I play different roles in the movie. I play the part of a son, a father, an ex-husband, a lover, a bestfriend and sometimes just an expectator.

I never had a middle name to start with. My mother served as my parent in everyway she can. That was why she was dumbfounded to hear about my reckless life. I guess she always sees me as the cute kid asking for milk: I guess all mothers do.

So where did I get my Y chromosome? Well, let's just say that I last heard of him 10 years ago, from a white envelope entangled with a static face of a stranger. The picture I kept as a reminder of his absence.

Since I tend to myself, I learned to be independent at a very young age. I never needed anyone else's help. You might portray me as the rebellious street-smart kid in a class. The anti-hero who happens to be a hero at the end. Yes, I'd like to think of it that way. But not the stereotypical one, I think I had a charisma to melt a girls heart back then .

But sometimes life gives you something to relate to. Someone to talk to: That's when I met my bestfriend.

It was 4th year High School. She was a year younger and was a transferee. We were introduced by common friends and there was nothing unusual about it. Like the usual students, we get to talk a lot about our angst in life; But mostly, she was sharing problems about everything. She became more than an acquiantance. Through time, I became her confidant and bestfriend.

Life was never complete without her. But the comforting words became physical intimacy. I'm not sure if it was the naive youth or just stupidity, but we enjoyed our relationship too much. Too much to maker her pregnant.

I only knew about the pregnancy after her abortion. Our world fell. I tried to rebuild the bridge connecting us, but the scar was so deep. Only time can heal such wounds. Time I cannot offer. She closed her door for me. Out of guilt, I never knocked. Once again, I was alone.

Confused with myself, I took the refuge of a romantic relationship. But this time I was sure about true love. She offered me more than comfort. We were soulmates. I love her with all my being; and she offered the same amount of love.

I had a second chance of redeeming myself when my girlfriend got pregnant. It was a shock for our families, but I've been in difficult situations before. It was enough reason not to be weak again. I was to become a father.

In a way, it was hard. Aside from being a young father, I never had a role model except of the 10-year old smiling picture I got. But I promised myself to do everything I can to be the best father I can be.

Then my beautiful daughter was born on a beautiful day; And I named her after a beautiful flower. For the first time, I saw myself in a family portrait. A father, a mother ,a daughter and a love to bind them.

I wish I could end my story in this part. I wish I can tell you that my wife and I would grow old loving each other, while watching our daughter grow up as well. But there are too many 'buts' in my story; and real life has no fantasy ending.

Three years after our marriage, while working responsibly as any father would do, my wife decided to go abroad. We had our ups and downs but the idea of being distant from her was unbearable. It was for our daughter's sake, so I had to say yes to the idea.

Then she fell for another guy while being away. He was there for her, she said.

I was niformed though a chat message: Lifeless and careless. I died the instant it hit me. All I can do was press the x button, wishing that our problems can be solved that way. Just like the button closed, my wife became my ex-wife.

It was maybe because she grew tired of me - and I can't blame her. I also happen to be my own demon. I wasn't a perfect husband nor a perfect father. I've done so many things worth regretting. I ended up blaming myself.

But would that be enough reason not to hold on to? Don't we deserve another chance? How can I fight a battle miles away from home?

Our daughter was too young to know and she deserved innocence. She deserves a
life better than my childhood. I never get to tell her about it.

Ironically, my bestfriend became my confidant during the time of sorrow. We have forgiven each other and promised to help one another once more. She's now happily married with kids.

Time heals all wounds, I'm afraid. No matter how I want to prolong this story, I can only hope for a better future ahead of me. I'm still learning to heal myself; To make the best out of life; To grow smarter and to love more.

I have not closed the doors to the people I love. I will still wait until another chapter in my story is to be told: Waiting and hoping for the a better day. Like a real-life story, I'll leave the ending to one's imagination. You can think of it as a tragedy, and let me suffer until the end; or you can give hope and make a happy ending with it. But no matter what happens, I know that I'm living my life to the fullest.

end

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How I Write:

I'm not a writer. I write passionately, but not naturally. I see, feel,
smell and experience things then I draw them in letters.

So i guess you won't learn anything from this post but this:

"If you want to write then stop reading. Simply write; Otherwise you'll
just be a couch potato in front of a TV getting fat from other people's
point of view. Go on have some diet and exercise...write."