(originally posted at MP)
Life is never enough despite of the fact that I am as old as the months of the year. Feeling young as ever, I went out to get drunk, stoned and hoping to get laid whichever comes first. I made the full moon as an excuse.
The beaches in Panglao were as beautiful when the moon is full. So inviting, so white, so peaceful. After getting stoned I went out to search for inner peace. That damn peace, I’ve been searching it for so long. Swimming is the right alternative. The silvery sea glimmered that night. Ecstatic, I drunk myself to death. Group sex inevitably happened like we have no choice. Perfect!
But when the spirit is willing and the body weak, I decided to go home. Home is my refuge as always. I took shelter there when I’m hurt. My home is the only witness to the thousand good and bad things I’ve done. It stood there silently, waiting for me. But home seemed a long way though and to get there I have to fly. As if chased by a million demons of my past, I went riding like hell. Cold wind slapped my face and my heated body. My heart pumped desperately, trying to get through me. Like it was trying to go ahead of me. This battered heart.
With a new bike, 175mph was for sissies and fags! My hand was uncontrollable as it pressed for more fuel. My foot never stepped for the brakes!
It was too late when like an apparition of some sort, a stray dog crossed my way. While my foot stepped on the brakes and my hand pressed for the handbrakes, I didn’t let go of the fuel accelerator. We made a dance of a lifetime, that goddamn bike and me. The motorbike hugged me as I fell down, screeching and scorching my skin. Still I never let it go. My bike and I have a relationship. Unlike my failed relationships with some people, I held on. We were one!
Only when my backup arrived did my hand loosened from the grip. I yelled. No, I howled!
They started to laugh at me. I said I am ok, just a charred leg and a sprained arm. I guessed. There was no blood. A few scratch here and there. I’m lucky they told me.
I blamed the dog that crossed my path. Of all paths, why mine? Me, who would rather be bitten by a dog than treat it badly, could have killed that beast in that instant. I blamed the owners of that dog. Fuck them! I should have been in my bed by now if they have tied their dog in some fucking post under their house. I cursed again. I blamed the government officials for being so lax in imposing laws on this matter. I blame them too for not lighting the streets well. I blamed my companions for allowing me to drive even if I’m drunk. I blamed everyone and everything. If you were there I could have blamed you too!
I never blamed myself.
And as the powers of alcohol and drugs went off, reality settles in. And it sat beside me without the comforting hand of a mother. Reality smiled at my monstrous hangover! Whatthefuck! My tongue tasted like lead. My body ached! My scorched leg is hurting. I can’t walk without the obvious limp. I have colds. I’m late for work. My day is damned!
Shit! Now I’m blaming myself! Reality grinned.