Beneath the Waves

It's a buzz of white noise stinging my ear that signals a calm to the storm. Busy days in and out. Traffic brings frustration and lateness. The constant bombardment of burdens pile on high, one on top of the other. News of a loss. Another friend gone. A best friend with work problems. Her worry and anger seeps inside me. The hurricane has yet to start. A trip in the week signals more doom to follow. Car troubles impede. Accidents make me second guess my decisions. Outside the noises seem to blare, calling to me and hunting my attention when the problem lies within. Mind still buzzing. Noise humming. Chaos rages ever familiar yet also detrimental. Without it the monotony and ever stable comfort of safety lays it's nest. I've been on that cloud. The ease of regularity can be a safe bet, but for now, I ride the unpredictable storm, seeing how it will mold the voice inside me.

My eyes have seen relationships evolve around me ever since I was young and a pattern emerges. Despite the love, the connection, and partnership involved in a couple, I continue to see the men leech off of women who permit it because they’re in a commitment. I could be missing something behind the scenes or misjudging the men. They must have contributed a vital ingredient to bloom the love of marriage worth keeping. For now, my observation rules any concocted hypothesis. I’ve seen successful women who were on the cusp to a great career only to be held up handling the priorities of a man. A class at night school is put on hold to take care of kids, while the husband works his 9-5 job. A girlfriend reaching into her account to rid her boyfriend’s debt yet continues to use his credit card to overspend further crushing her credit. A wife quitting her second job because her husband can’t sleep not knowing if she’ll be safe at night yet when he becomes unemployed and continues to goof off late at night only to drag himself into bed by 3am to jolt awake his wife that needs to get up in 3 hours for her first job, it’s ok. I’ve seen my friends lift their boyfriends up to be better from just looking great to getting their first jobs and even teaching them how to drive. I continue to watch as the role of girlfriend and wife shift to mother, best friend, accountant, maid, secretary all to appease him. Staying thin and pretty while he gets fat and ugly. Cleaning, cooking, and taking care of the kids while he pays the bills, sometimes he can’t even handle that. The gain is so great for the man he becomes content, spoiled, and dumb. The decisions he used to be able to do becomes a skill lost as he can't make up his mind without his wife’s permission. Just as he becomes dependent, the women too latch on the symbiotic deal. As the years pass on, the growth is noticeable and the women soon become background. Their voices a hum of white noise.

My feelings express themselves through my facial expressions and appearances. I hum along to a song when daydreams float in my head. People talking to me notice right away. They have pointed out the numerous times I drift away from the conversations, my thoughts occupied somewhere else. I awkwardly wince the minute someone starts an uncomfortable subject or experience, but my laughter rings clear, bursting from joy. Despite the smile on my face, a handful of others pick up the cloud I'm under because of my dreary wear. Push me enough and the tears building beneath my eyes race out like a waterfall. Shock, fear, and disgust plaster through my eyes and my mouth at some abrasive comments or actions. No taking back a slack-jawed look. I'm found out before I could compose myself. I used to think I had a leash around my feelings only to open my mouth from an opinion or a comment. My laughter rings so loud at times it can be heard from the next room. No matter how hard I pull back my tears, I end up empting the tissue box. Before I could apologize for giving a rude expression and try to fish out a nice compliment, my friend is already on her way to return the dress I critiqued or a coworker brushes my comment by changing the subject. Each emotion is like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and containing them is like trying to stop a wave from crashing on the shore. Except for one. Anger. I can swallow back an awful insult. Ignore the annoyance of a pestering worker. I can even control my hands from squeezing some cold calculating person's throat whose words spite the atmosphere of a room. It's amazing how much control I have over such a fiery feeling when I've seen how uncontrollable and natural it comes for others to express it only to see the ashes of the outcome. It's probably why it has to be something small or big to release my hold on my anger. I do release it and at the time it's raw, short, and terrifying. Even in such a moment I am still in control and say the words it bold in case they lack hearing. I'm quick to apologize for feelings being hurt, but rarely do I apologize for my words. Many people regret what they say due to anger being given reign over their heads, I have carried the flame within as it cultivates from the insults thrown at me and the negative sneers snaked behind my back. Each negative thought gets filed and doesn't get forgotten until I bring it out in the open. Hate. Dislike. Insults. Everything. They come out raw and real. The past up to the current moment is what I feel and it's what I want the other party to know. The future can be entirely different depending on the issues getting resolved or becoming worse due to my words, and yet I won't say sorry because then I'm reduced to eating back the flames I've been carrying for years and such a fire can only turn into a storm as the weight builds up and up and up and up... waiting for another explosion to release.

It’s here again. That uneasy feeling sparked from a book or from what someone said; a simple sentence to make me question why I’m living my life like this?! It’s inexplicable that what I thought I had figured out is nothing more than some delusion I built walking in blind and now the simmer of a change is bubbling through the surface. I’m unsure and lost. I find myself wandering in and out of the rooms of my home, searching and distracted by what’s wrong with me. I take action yet pause in the middle suddenly frightened of the resulting failure I can’t predict. I’m seeking advice under the cover of the night, reading how others cope with taking a drastic step in their lives. My courage is a soggy kitten drenched in rain. My body agitated by the change, comfortable in the same routine but also equally annoyed by such monotony. Staying the same isn’t an option and fighting such a tide will deter the safety I’m used to. Turning the next page with no map scares me. I hate making mistakes and being judged, but I know the worst person at judging myself is me. The idea of going through the hurt and pain alone steals my breath away. The future brings too many variables of which the bad ones stick out the most. It is like walking on a tightrope knowing that the hard ground will crush every bone in a fall. So one step at a time, the walk commences until the safety of the other side welcomes the newcomer in their journey.

There's a lure to the movies and tv shows available at the push of a button; a story waiting to unfold as the character walks onwards to their journey unknown. My mind hungers for the next scene, thirsty for what's next. One show after another brings a sharp laugh or a muffled cry as my emotions tumble out in a disarray. It's a convincing lie I start to believe as people with wings battle for love. It's a continuous spiral into escapism. I fall through embracing the high, which comes to a halt once the credits roll up. Gone away is the magic as the spell I'm put under fades away. The story has an ending. The series is finished. I'm left holding onto a tether that has snapped my hold on a fog of a dream. I don't want the feeling of adventure to go away, so once more and again I submerge from one film to the next until the excitement wears away and the hum of reality is an erupting echo that becomes unavoidable. There's only so much I can run before it catches up with me.

I’ve withstood my share of constructive and not-so-constructive criticism, but it doesn’t get easier. I don’t understand why someone would slander my hard work, work I’ve done out of pure love because I wanted to share instead of keeping it locked up in another one of my notebooks. Words are a gift and a curse. I felt I had sacrificed one form of art to some harsh criticism a long time ago and I don’t want to do it again.

Waking up, my body struggles under the weight of the thin blanket, already missing the forgotten mirage of sleep. There are no dreams to remember nor to look forward to, only the desire to return back to slumber. My body turns automatic with the rising sun. Eating. Brushing. Dressing. Routines unchanging. The drive, the polite hello, and the work already makes me long for the comfort of my room. Relieved at the end of the day, I go through my routine in reverse. Undressing. Washing. Eating. Internet fills the busy unoccupied portions of my brain still left wanting. It isn’t until I hit the bed that I realize how awake I still am despite the ‘supposed’ productive day I had. I had more than my share of staring out the window, not thinking but watching and waiting, even when I’m not sure of what I’m waiting for. I’ve sighed more times in a day as if my body constantly needs to expel the built up of heat within despite sitting on the couch all day. Not everyday is the same but not everyday is so vastly different. I’m too comfortable. I’m used to things by now. I’m not anticipating the next day. My world had become a paste and copy issue of a filler episode that no one tunes in to watch and I’m doing nothing to change it. Sooner or later, my active mind lulls into a tiresome sleep as the day begins once more with the exhale of a different day filled with the same routine.

I pester one more text in case they didn’t see the first one or resign to the whole drama as being a forgotten cause. I instead concentrate on talking about the invites to the ones who actually accepted and leave the ones who don’t care to give me an answer at a later date because I know the ones who reply do care. My annoyance is a trait my friends know well enough, and they have to be prepared to accept and counter.

He was more of an acquaintance than a friend, a friendly coworker. A familiar face to see and say hi to and at times talk about the nonsense of work or just what's on our minds. He's gone and I'm sad but not as sad as I should be considering I don't know him very well. Still, even when I feel the flow of the work will be awkward, it will continue just as it has now without him. His familiar hello won't be there to greet me, nor any of the other co-workers who know him better than me. I do wonder though if he was sick or the death was just sudden. I don't think I could have made a difference either way if I knew and yet I wish I did. So many faces and names I see regularly are vulnerable to just one day not be there. I do take it for granted and this isn't a job meant to bring people closer. Some are friends, very good friends. For the most part, these people are who I rarely share my family, interests, or opinions. I don't give them a second thought when I go home since I'm the type to leave work at work but there's a lot to be read in a person's work manner. My coworker is gone, and I might not have known him well only enough to judge his character on the job. He was a loyal employee despite his usual grumps about policy and follows what he was taught. He was a kind soul who on one or more occasions was willing to lend me a helping hand when most of the employees left me to handle such a huge workload by myself. Despite limitations in his body, he strained against the physical toll and endured. I learned from watching his actions and listening to his words. I remember such admirable qualities in people, and I smile because while I might forget about the person, I won't forget such kindness. Such an extension of great manner always finds a way to take root in others like it has in me and I hope to spread it as it slowly becomes the norm.

I still despise that my brother will always have more freedom and less repercussions for the things he does, but I also understand he has come upon the role of the prized child and has to appease our mom and dad since the rest of the children have become downright losers, so it’s a mutual role with pros and cons on each side.

You're wrong for canceling plans you never even wanted to fulfill. You're wrong for keeping others waiting, thinking their schedule runs around you. You're wrong for playing nice by ignoring the issue and skirting around them. You're wrong for thinking everyone has the potential to reach your level and should when some are satisfied where they are. You're wrong for going with the crowd and taking their opinion when the loner of the other party didn't even have a say. You're wrong for thinking everyone wants to be together every time. You're wrong for making assumptions and not coming forward to confirm them. You're wrong for thinking, believing the people you love are better, when to be honest, they're in no better shape than you. What's worst is you'll never know how wrong I think you are. All the times you've left me hanging. Canceled on me. Brushed my feelings aside as if they don't matter. You'll never know how many excuses I've made in my head for you and how I put you on that pedestal only to see the rust on the metal keeps showing. You'll never know how much hurt you've caused and the anger you've elicited within that demands to be let out. You'll never know because once I voice out your flaws you react with poison to my back unapologetically. When I address a way to compromise, the plans get canceled or you manipulate it to get your way. The change I hope to see in you never happens and the cycle begins again. You once said maybe it's better we don't hangout ever again. It was such a dramatic statement and a stupid one. It's not easy to give up a friend, but some time off might do me some good. Maybe both of us some good.

Very few pay attention to what I'm saying, and many more don't care to remember the details of our conversation. I'm not particularly hurt by it, since I'm guilty of the same deal, and learned by the example of others that small talk is just meant to occupy time. It's not meant to bring up later and when I do, most end up explaining the topic once more or are surprised I even remembered such a detail insignificant to them. But for the most part, I play the part of the listener. It's probably why I get so many close to me to keep yapping away. When I do get a chance to tell stories on my own, I find out real quick it isn't worth mentioning since they barely reply a sentence or curb my words back to what they were originally stating. So, I got used to talking as if my words don't matter. They serve to continue the conversation where the other is the main star and I'm their source for venting. Friends weren't the only ones to brush my words aside but also family. I learned my words have more importance to strangers online than people I know and coming to that realization did hurt. So, the rare moments I talk with someone new and find out they were actually listening and asking me questions took me aback. They would even bring back what I said the last time I met them, remembering the conversation before I did. I'd be left speechless at the moment and only manage a laugh. Those stories I told in those small talks held a certain truth and while they were exaggerated to a certain extent and made it seem like I made fun of myself to get a laugh, it was all true. And it takes certain people to see me through my words for who I truly am. I always feel dumb in a way when someone would relay my stories back to me because I let my guard down by giving them a taste of the real me, thinking they didn't care about anything I said so it wouldn’t hurt to vent when they’d just forget. Unfortunately, they were playing the listener. These people are far better friends than I deserve and also way more intimidating. They almost have a psychic know-how to lay the truth down leaving me unprepared for the truth or catching me by surprise more than once with advice to my worries I thought I passed through as menial annoyances. Small harmless sentences that they took to heart, knowing I meant every emotion out of the words. My jeering laugh and sarcasm didn’t mask what others take as ordinary nonsense. They saw past my charade. How oddly charming but also how much of a wall do I need to put up so they don’t fracture my cracked foundation?

I woke up with my shirt sticking to my back like a sticker as the cold sweat drips on my neck. The relief of the wind from my bedroom window wasn't consistent as it blows now and again. I reach for the bathroom light, realizing too late it doesn't work. It hasn't for the last couple of days. I turned the switch back to its original position as I continue my routine. Cold water splashed in the bath. The shock of the cold became comforting but not enough to stay inside at a leisure. Previous meals from the night lay spread out on the table as the early wakers already took a piece. My stomach didn't care for the absence of warmth in the food since hunger needed to be sated. I eyed the microwave then moved around towards the bystanders around the house. My father sat outside by the patio fanning himself as he stared out in the grass. My mother slept on the couch as the heat tires her body. My cousin kept her cats company by a window as they grasp any gust the wind manages to slip by. My aunts huddle by the radio staying informed while chatting away at one another about a story or other. My other cousin had the better idea of reading her library books near one of the nice couches. I smiled as I remember finding my sister outside one night being bitten by mosquitos as she texts with desperation to her online friends. I napped. I read. I wandered. It felt boring but I wasn't bored. At least not yet. Aside from the annoying hum of the generators from the next door, the night blanketed everything, taking the chance to cover the land with the absence of light. The presence of the dark also brought back fears as stepping in the familiar backdrop of my house gave me goosebumps. Stepping outside felt like a horror movie in the making, but it had to be done since the dog needed the walking. I clutched the flashlight nervously in my hand when saw it. The stars. Every single one of them shined their best during the nights. I wasn't so scared as I gazed at them, hoping to freeze the beauty in my head. Looking up, I felt at peace and wondered how much of out there I'm missing in my everyday life. The same routine repeated the next day with some minor changes. Time took longer and the mundane tasks felt like meeting an old friend. It felt a lot like being back home where my family had little necessities and dealt with them in their own way. It was a simpler time as many would say, but it's my childhood and I forget how fun it is without being connected to a device all the time. I necessarily wouldn't want to live like that for the rest of my life, but it's nice to step back and experience it once in a while.

There was a time I would gladly do overtime in a moment's notice despite being tired and hungry. I would come home at times and reflect on what I could've done to make things better or worry about the unfinished business on the job, not willing to wait to finish it tomorrow. Those times are gone. I clock out at my time and only stay enough as I deem necessary without expending too much energy. I understand I can't always give 100% every single day, but I can mask the negatives and stress to put a smile on in order to keep things moving. When I leave, I strip off the job and leave it for the morning. Never again will I be up at night finishing work unpaid at home. My energy and endurance will not be the same as the others so while they are faster, I won't let their speed stress me into trying to match theirs. I learned that's how I make my mistakes happen. The gossip of the day is a toss-up, and I don't have to talk to those who like to talk behind other's backs. I don't have to get them to like me. We just have to work together to meet halfway. I don't let frustrations fester and when I'm bothered, I speak up and find that many have the same feelings as mine. A job takes the most time out of my week, but I don't have to let it take my whole life. I don't want to be about my work. I don't want it to encompass my life like I've seen it done to many of the people close to me. They become out of touch with friends and loved ones. Birthdays get missed and then eventually graduations and weddings. All they talk about is the job. It's what makes them them but that's not me. Maybe it's because I haven't found a job I love doing. That if I did, I would want to stay afterhours and hangout with coworkers after work. I'd recommend and talk about my job to friends and family like it's my first-born child. But I know that whether I do end up finding the perfect job for me, and I do end up loving it, I would still leave at my appointed time and keep coworkers at a distance because my job is only part of my life and not all of it.

And yet the more I try not to think about him, the more I do and for the most part I’m over it. I have to be considering no one has seen him in the last couple of months, yet today, out of all the other days, I just questioned in my head how he’s been and began hoping he might show up even when I know he won’t. Then it’s as if someone was reading my thoughts and asked the question that’s been on my mind since he went missing. Is he coming back? No. The answer is no. So, all I have is the faint memory of my last encounter with him playing on rewind in my head as the details get forgotten and my imagination makes the conversation sound worse or better at times. In my memory, he sounded sad, almost bittersweet and yet, I remember him laughing. It wasn’t fake because it reached his eyes. And yet he’s gone they said. Moved away. Moved back home. Not that I expected a goodbye, but I somehow felt I should have at least been warned of the farewell, not that people leaving ever leaves a good memory. His leave should be a signal for me to say goodbye as well. So, I won’t think about him. Not today when I have so much to do and too much to juggle. But I can’t prevent my thoughts at night when my worries burrow deep inside, and I can’t help wondering if he’s doing better and that the people he loves are fine also. The family emergency he rushed down there for and the seriousness of having to change his home, job, and life. But he could be fine now. He might have another job and I’m worrying for nothing, but I can’t help caring for someone I don’t want to think about. It’s a compulsion I can’t stop.

The teacher addressed that’s one of the points of meditation is to be so focused that the self forgets about the body. I can say I reached that point, but it was a great shock to return to the real world like that.