My mother asks this a lot, “How come you don’t smile anymore?” Now, don’t get me wrong. I do smile, though very rarely. If you see me at uni (this is how I’m calling my university, De La Salle University, from now on. I refer to it as campus to my friends, as in, “Are you on campus?) with my friends, I’m probably laughing and having a good time. It’s just normal human behaviour to enjoy the company of those you are close to. But, I’m rarely with my friends at uni nor do we have the time to just sit around and do whatever. Anyway, point is, my friends see me as this cheery and chummy guy, but they’ve never seen me when I’m not with them.
I am so emotionless, I make Mona Lisa look bipolar; I make myself look like Bella Swan’s twin (I know right?) Damn, even Curiosity had more emotions when it landed on Mars than when I try to have a conversation with my mother. I’m just a huge pile of dead.
When my mother asked me that question, I once told her, “Well, I don’t need to smile.” She didn’t bother me for days after that. Then, she’d forget it ever happened and asked me the same thing. “How come you don’t smile anymore?” I would just ignore it.
Today was no different. Today was special. Today, I saw an amazing picture of my ex-girlfriend (I know, I’m writing about her. AGAIN. It’s better for me to write about it than to do some crazy ass shit that would get me into trouble.) Shall I paint a picture with the “skills” that I learnt from my creative writing class? Nah. Just trust me when I said, “Shit. Wow,” to myself.
So, I was staring at this picture for a good minute or so, then my mother tells me that we had to go to mass. I closed the window, shut the lid of my laptop and went. I was quiet the entire ride going to there.
I was hoping to get a chapter done in the book that I was reading, while inside the church. But, I just couldn’t concentrate on anything. My head was just overflowing with so much memories. Memories of both good and bad times that I spent with her. It was so frustrating I had to tell my mother that I had to use the bathroom. I told her that I had a stomach-ache and that I would be back there after the first-half ended. I walked back home (the church wasn’t that far), and I just broke.
After about a good 10 minutes or so, I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and used some eye-drops on my bloodshot eyes. It’s been over 4 years, and she still… I seriously don’t know what to do. Anyway, I got back to the church. I sat down quietly, and my mother asks, “Are you feeling better now?” “….A bit.”
That was the last thing I said throughout the mass. Afterwards, we left to go to the pharmacy to pick up some toiletries. I didn’t say anything. We left, then my mother said, “Let’s eat at this place!” And she had a huge grin on her face, and that’s when I knew that my mother figured out that there was something wrong with me. I really didn’t have the appetite, but I didn’t want to disappoint my mother by turning her down.
I told her that she could get me anything, since I didn’t really care what I was going to eat. I got a table at a corner near the window, and I just stared out. I kept having these bursts of memories of when we were once together as the cars outside were whizzing by. “We used to ride together going to theatre class,” I mumbled to myself. I felt my eyes swelling up again. I tried really hard to hold back by digging my nails into my skin. When I came down a bit, a part of my hand bled (don’t worry, I had worse.) I covered it up just as soon as my mother arrived to the table.
She sat down in front of me, and I just kept staring out the window. Nothing was going through my mind that time, but I just felt insanely hallow. Remember when I said that today was special? My mother asked me a question. “How come you’re so lonely?”
I didn’t know how to answer that.