trenchant is the blade

When it rains, it pours. I thought losing someone was bad enough, but it seems my fears come in threes. Third time's the charm, as they say. As far as I can tell, I haven't hit the bottom yet. Sooner or later, maybe. We'll see.

Just the other day -- Sunday morning, if my memory serves me right -- I sat with my Dad reading the papers for one and a half hours with no words exchanged between the two of us. It's the usual routine, obviously, sitting across from each other face to face with no eye contact whatsoever. No indication that these two living beings are father and son. Perfect strangers, to an outsider looking in.

Searching for something, my mind finally settled on a question I had to ask regarding a friend's immigration problem (he has been applying for citizenship and twice was rejected without any explanation, and he personally asked me to consult my Dad for help). After a brief discussion, we returned to our daily routine of ignoring (neglecting?) each other's existence.

After twenty busy minutes in the Business section, he noticed I was visibly upset that nothing could be done to help my friend out. So he tried to explain again how these things work, and after a little back and forth, I was resigned to the fact that my friend was literally on his own.

Sure I was disappointed I couldn't help my friend out, and I called him right after to give him the bad news, but I was doubly disappointed that this father-son duo only spoke when necessary. On a typical day, the only communication between us is when he asks me if I have school on that day. That's it.

I know I'm not what you expected me to be. I know it must be frustrating to wake up everyday and face up to the possibility (certainty?) that your son is a failure, a major disappointment beyond your power to control and make right. I realize it's difficult to trust me anymore now that I've let you down so many times before.

Even your friends have noticed. Your childhood friend who, unlike you, has the ability to show affection to his loved ones (but that is okay; I'm used to it and I know deep down, though you don't show it, it's there). Your childhood friend, whom I hadn't met for over a year and who lives in a country in many ways entirely different from our own, came up to me at our holiday retreat several weeks ago when he saw my disappointed face after being rejected by you again, and noted his observation.

"Your father doesn't trust you," he said, smiling as he said it. As though a cheerful and reassuring smile could lighten the weight off my shoulders. The look on my face was that obvious, Dad, but you never notice these things. You walked away, without ever once stopping to consider what your silent rebuffs do to me.

"There's nothing I can do," I said then, and shrugged. I felt like crying but I didn't show it (you've taught me well in that department, Dad, that much you can be proud of).

The smile on his face remained. "Study hard. Study hard and make him proud. Show to him that you can achieve what your sister has done, or even higher. And then, he will trust you."

Study hard, and then you will trust me. Tell me, Dad. Is that how you treat a son whose only mission in life is to have his father accept him for what he is? Whose sole purpose of being is to make you proud of him? I have made many mistakes, I admit. You must be very ashamed of me. If you do not wish to see me again, I will leave. But you have to tell me. You do such a good job of hiding your feelings I don't know what to think anymore. Just please don't treat me this way. Why have you forsaken me in your eyes, and in your heart, and in your mind?

I love you, Dad. I don't show it, but isn't that what you taught me to do? To never show my feelings, because it is a sign of weakness. You are the exact opposite of Mom in many ways, and yet these two opposing influences have shaped my life greater than anything else. I only want your acceptance and perhaps, if it's not too much to ask, to be best friends again like we were in the good old days. It wasn't that long ago -- I'm only 21 -- but it feels like an entire lifetime. And maybe it really is for me.

When it rains, it pours. I've always been under the impression that friends will help bail you out when you're down, not kick you in the guts for a chance. I don't think I'll be guilelessly deluded anymore. I believe it's a gargantuan task to write a nice letter of recommendation, or maybe I'm not worth the time. Whatever.

Oh, Arnold, Arnold, Arnold. And here I thought you were my friend. Little did I suspect your Machiavellian mind perceived me as an irredeemably useless, no-good piece of shit. What do you really think of me? Not that really I care, not anymore, but I thought you were my friend. That's all. It's rare to have a lecturer as a friend, and I was gullible enough to identify you as one.

It is, as you say, against your greater conscience to write me a nice letter of recommendation. That if you were an employer, you wouldn't want to work with me. Why is that, O Brutus of mine? Are you somehow threatened by my intellect? Are you intimidated by me, that I am smarter, stronger, and by far 'cooler' than you'll ever be? That if I were to realize my full potential, you would be nothing but a speck of dirt compared to me?

Yes, I am too full of myself. You personally informed me of that fact after I scored a distinction for the course you taught us. You cannot deny that I am brilliant, that much you know. Do you now deny that without me we would never have won the business competition? Do you now refuse to acknowledge that without me, our proposal would never have made it past the first stage?

I see it now. You were in it for yourself. I was in it because we had a great working relationship, and that it was exciting to enter the field of money-making with friends. Too bad it didn't work out that way, huh? You probably blame me for that too, since you can do no wrong. Point the finger, I don't care, but know this: it would have amounted to nothing if it wasn't for me.

Don't write me that document; I don't need it. I don't need you. This is your only way of getting back at me out of spite because of my superiority, your last chance to exercise what power you have over me, so I will allow you the opportunity. It would have been a nice gesture; it would have been a favor for a friend, that is all. It would have been nice to feel appreciated for my efforts, nothing more. For a moment there, being in the emotional turmoil that I was in, I was offended and a little hurt. Only because I believed friends help each other out, and I actually believed you were a friend. Not anymore.

When it rains, it pours. I thought we could make it together, you and me. I thought we could last forever, happy and free. Then everything got in the way. I will not say anything hurtful if I can help it, but I am hurt and angry too. I do not understand why it has to be this way. Maybe I will one day but I right now I am furious, and rightly so.

You were my pillar of strength, Jezs. If not completely dependable I knew at least that you were in love with me as I was with you. And that was enough for me. I ceased to live for myself; I began living for you. No matter how bad it got between us, you knew I would always take you back in my arms where you felt most secure. As it stands, the story of us is over. Nothing we say will matter anymore, nothing we do will change anything.

I am writing this because I have the time. I have the time because you are no longer with me. It is, by far, a poor substitute but this is all I have now. I no longer have someone to correct me when I am wrong, in the most tender way that only a lover could. I no longer have those small, fragile hands to hold onto when I am lost. I no longer have someone to help me stand tall when I fall through the cracks. I no longer have that precious smile to capture in my mind and keep me happy throughout the day. I no longer have that charming face to kiss and to behold. I can no longer breathe in my favorite smell, that redolent scent of your skin. I can no longer hear that dulcet intonation of your voice. I can no longer see the delightful, cloying, luscious thing that is you.

Time -- that is all I have, and even that will come in short supply soon enough. I don't think turning back time will change anything; maybe if I were to cut and splice the film such that it will loop over and over again, maybe we could stay in the world we made for each other, forever. How can something that consumed my entire existence amount to nothing? I keep asking myself that same question. Over and over again.

Think what you like. I am a sentimental fool, wrapped in a perpetual state of separation anxiety. I lost faith in love, and you planted a seed in my mind that when in full bloom was the sweetest experience I could ever have. Now it has withered and dried up. Now it is dead.

PLAYLIST

No Regrets -- Robbie Williams

You Don't Know Me -- Michael Bublé

Don't Get Lost In Heaven -- Gorillaz

Wish You Were Here -- Jamie Foxx

On A Plain -- Nirvana

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