“Can we go back ? “ I asked myself time to time, “…to a time when nothing bad has happened to you ? And then we part our way? And so I leave you intact and healthy, but alone, but ajar of chance where you can choose a new life? an alternative life? an alternative partner, who would have made you safer? Can we work that way? Can life work that way? Would you be better that way?” Sorry madam, my dame, I have been getting more and more superstitious recently because of you, in a sense that I have been trying to figure out whether I can do something very trivial, very silly, very unrelated, that may prevent us, as a family, from precariousness.
“But…at which point can we go back?” then replied I to myself, “…at which point can I be sure you are 100% ridden of peril?” I have been turning the pages of our 11 years of marriage back to find that landing point. But it is tricky, madam. I cannot find that point. I simply can’t. Unfortunate things has been happening to you mysteriously since half a year after our wedding ceremony. So mysterious that no one can ever explain. That’s getting me more and more superstitious. Every time when those things happened, some one whom I supposed to be experts gave very similar replies, sorry, it shouldn’t have happened to your family. It shouldn’t have happened to her. There should be only X (a figure that was supposed to mean very low) out of Y (a figure that was supposed to mean enormous) chance it happens to a person. There is no apparent genetic linkage to what happened. Sorry. So many times someone said sorry to us, said sorry to me. I hate people saying sorry to me. Life made me think that saying sorry means something really bad happened to me, and those experts won’t ever give me explanation why such bad thing happened. Sometimes they even could not explain what exactly had happened! So, last time I was so angry when you said sorry to me. Why? Why it’s you who said it! Those mysterious things happened to you again! You shouldn’t say it to me! If there is someone who has to say this hateful word it shouldn’t be you! You were the only one who suffers from it! And this time, you are going to suffer for your remaining life! And, from now on you cannot even count your life! So why did the sufferer say sorry to me?! Why the sufferer had to be you?! Why it had to be you?!
It’s really hard to define happiness and sadness after our marriage. Every time I see sadness has gone and we will finally be happy ever after. Every time I see storm has subsided and we will finally have our serenity ever after, and I begin to let this tranquility to lull me into a calm and unworried being, those mysterious sadness will happen to you again, and catch me unprepared, ripping my happiness, and the scanty positive part of me, apart. It’s like someone, something forbids happiness to define our marriage. Someone, something may decide our marriage should be a scale that a certain weight of happiness should be balanced by equivalent weight of sadness. So every time a storm has passed us, our weight of happiness has been too much that will tip our balance —hence break our delicate bond between each other. Sadness has to be put in, no matter wherefrom it comes. No matter how mysterious. Someone, something doesn’t even care to find an explanation, but just dump something into our scale, no matter how dumb, who cares how dumb, just to keep our marriage in balance. Thank fucking goodness for your fucking kindness, to let something really bad, inexplicably bad, be gettin’ in our way time to time, to cause us incurable pain, unbearable sadness, to cut our very selves asunder, just to keep our bondage in balance. Thank fucking goodness for your kindness. So, that someone, that something, that’s supposed to keep our love solely in his trust and not anyone anything else, step by step, has led me into superstition, to believe in forebears, to believe in omens, to believe in signs, to believe in totems, to believe in something I’m supposedly forbidden. It has driven me senseless, nerveless and numbness. If adrenaline is the only glue to our bondage, I can’t take it. if worrisome to the point of weariness is the only emotion we deserve, to keep madame, my dame, from the mysterious sadness, I can take it. But please get some fucking experts to explain why to me, eye to eye, instead of digressing your X from Y, instead of covering your “I don’t know” with your BS glamourised, instead of making madame to say sorry to me for what she doesn’t know, while suffering the most. Gettin’ someone an errand to let me know, instead of gettin’ in our way, leaving us alone, helpless, soundless, not able to yelling for help from our friends as we know they simply don’t know what to say and what to do to make us better. Coz’ the answer is, as always when the mysterious sadness comes, a simple N-O no.
“But…at which point can we go back?” then asked I to myself, again, “…at which point can I be sure you are 100% ridden of peril?” I have been turning the pages of our 11 years of marriage back to find that landing point. But it is tricky, madam. I can find that point. And it’s so obvious. The starting point. The day we sworn in as husband and wife, vowing to love each other, bond with each other, support each other, disregarding happiness, sadness, loneliness, wealth, poverty, sickness, life, and finally, death. Till death do us apart. Else nothing gettin’ in our way is gonna gettin’ in our way. That’s a vow. That’s a prayer. That’s a blessing. That’s a curse. To me, it’s more like a curse than a blessing, considering what we’ve been through since then, considering what you’ve been suffering since then. Turning the pages to that starting point, and the prequel, I saw your face at the time. I saw your body at the time. I saw your fine soul at the time. Beautiful, energetic, dare, wit, nimble, intact, unharmed by the marriage and wherewithal all those mysterious things that’s been gettin’ in our way. Then I was suddenly conscious, that I just can’t. I just cannot land at this point. I know that marriage and gettin’ together through whatever the fuck in our life, have been the happiest thing for us. That curse itself. That fucking curse. Is the best blessing to us ever we can get. It makes no sense. But the curse we’ve been through, we must get through it. That defines us. That’s what we mean to each other. I am clear. I can’t understand. I can stand. Just prayer, and prayer, the next time we get back to our calmness and tranquillity and unpreparedness after the storm we’ve been through, like we used to, when the mysterious sadness comes again from the universe unbeknownst, the next time, I just prayer and prayer, it would be me to say sorry to you, to leave your life intact, ever after.