Between the Lines

Jhustine Rose C. Festijo @jhusfstj

Intothe vast sea of waves and safe skies, tangled upon is every word that should not be kept untold. Like an infinite force, I dare not to be silent as inner desires taunt me to plunge into a new beginning, the utopia.

It’s been 24 hours since I have been forsaken. “What’s new?” I said quietly while staring at the window beside me, directed at the path where you long gone.

Rain began pouring outside, and I decided to go, knowing I have nothing but myself. Wait, do I still have myself? Or that stranger took it away too?

Drenched, way back home.

Entering a bungalow house, I saw my aunt sitting pretty at the sala as she asked what happened and attended to my needs. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. Thank you.” I said nonchalantly.

I went inside my room upstairs and took a bath for an hour: yearning for a bloom, a courageful heart and genuineness.

Afterwards, I walked outside the bathroom, straight to my bed; I lied.

Being forsaken so many times, I know, “I’m not okay.” Just three words yet can’t spit it out.

Myself got snatched away but, how come I can’t get myself enraged? “Really, he’s getting on my nerves.”

Then, going home, I found an astonishing scene, “Wow. What did my aunt eat this time?”

Upstairs, I realized that I am fooling myself. This is not me. . “I’m tired of being silent.”

Lying on the bed, all I could do was to hanker that, “Between the time before I wake up, may every word between the lines be unleashed.”

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