When I asked you, “Do you still remember our song?”
Maybe the reason you said no, was because we were working on another one. A happier song, a song that can be played for ages. I’ll cling to that. I hope you’re writing that song now. The silence has become deafening.
but between bursting and disappearing,
the stars lay themselves for the world to see
against the splash of colors in the sky
and for a while, a person looks up,
and clings to the hope a star may give
cling to my poetry, love
and know in your ablaze heart
that even if I am as cold as a corpse,
you start a fire in me and give me my air
let’s hope it won’t burn me to ashes
now, do write this down
The dance we shared was a different kind;
But how is boxing a dream, how do you turn away from education because ‘I won’t need to look for x in algebra, because I see the x in your gut and I’m going to punch it so hard, x turns to ko’? The media should be more careful about what they say. Boxing is a sport, it’s not a profession. Sure, it brings money. Lots, actually. But you do see Manny Pacquiao studying law-related policies for politics. Boxing will never be enough.
What I learned the hard way, all these years, is that regret bites you the hardest in the end. You can be in pain, but this, like everything else, will pass, and time will heal you. As the song says, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” You can be sad, but look out the tiny window, and you see the sun, and all the tiny stars that shine for you. If it’s still too dark, then there’s the moon and its crescent smile cheering you on. You can be grieving but there would come a time that the waterfalls in your eyes will be sucked by the clouds of summer, ending your season of tears. You can be disappointed, but if you’re ocean deep and lying on the ocean floor, there is no way but up, for after all, even corpses float. What’s good about these is you have a reason. You know where it hurts. You know why you’re sad. You know you’re mourning because of a particular event. With regret, however, you’re clueless. All the hours you should be spending sleeping, you spend on thinking. That’s the thing. You don’t know the root of the problem, because it didn’t actually happen, which leads to a series of questions: What could have been? What should have been? What if I did? What if I didn’t? It’s a web of questions. And anything that gets caught in a web is eaten by spiders, or worse, left to rot. Good luck.