Helen of Troy

Tuesday, January 18, 2011 Stef dela Cruz 0 Comments

It’s worse now. Part of me has quit long ago. And then there are people who give me hope, which makes things unacceptable.

“Hope is like acid on my wounds.”

I sound so bleak, I know. I just don’t see why someone has to suffer for my sake. I’m not like other people who enjoy being the cause of someone else’s misery. No, I don’t like being pined for. I am no Helen of Troy and I do not envy her at all.

 

I just want to be happy without having to leave someone else behind. I have hurt too many people. ENOUGH.

 

Why it hurts me more when someone is in pain because of me, I’ll never understand. Perhaps that’s the price I have to pay for being born with the ability to read people’s faces. Everything comes with a price. Yes, nothing is ever truly free.

 

I would rather be just like everyone else. I don’t want to know when someone is lying to me. I don’t want to know when someone likes me even when they’re mum about it. No, I’ve had enough of that. Where’s the thrill in knowing, in living a life where guessing is no longer part of what makes life so exciting?

 

And then there’s this. I’m so scared I might hurt someone that I’d rather sabotage my entire life to make sure it never happens again. No, no more people crying for me. No more people crying because of me.

 

Please, please. I am starting to feel like the devil’s favorite daughter. And yet I don’t want to be alone.

 

But who can weather the storm that brews inside of me? Who can stand my fire? Who can survive me? Who would even dare try?

 

I lose my mind trying not to think about it.

Stef dela CruzAbout the blogger
Stef dela Cruz is a doctor and writer. She received the 2013 Award for Health Media from the Department of Health. She maintains a health column in Health.Care Magazine and contributes to The Manila Bulletin. Add her to your circles.

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