Originally published on November 21, 2012
Maybe it was the melancholic Joni Mitchell song playing on my ear. Or it could be the gloomy and uncaring atmosphere in the bus or maybe it is just the stark feeling of loneliness engulfing my entirety in that moment that I allowed myself to succumb to the comforting hand of the stranger beside me.
Fifteen minutes ago, my partner and I fought during dinner because he kept shoving in my face mistakes I did in the past. Why is love not enough? It’s sometimes funny and ironic how the same face you love could also be the same face to hurt you. I am not denying the fact that I did some things that hurt him in the past though — but does this give him the right to hurt me back? Is love just a cycle of pain? I do not think so. If you love someone, you just love him. No ifs, no buts, and certainly there’s no, even the slightest, desire to get even.
Boarding the bus, I wanted the seat closest to the entrance so I can get off easily. Unfortunately, the vehicle was jampacked and the only seat available was beside a nonchalant guy with earphones plugged to his ears. He was a tall and hairy guy who may have graduated from La Salle (and I say that because of the La Salle jacket he was wearing) and is now working in the same city, probably at some BPO firm or whatever company that requires its employees to work at night.
Make no mistake; I did not initiated the whole thing. He started rubbing elbows with me, I was lonely and vulnerable, and before I know it, we were holding hands on our way to the central business district. There were no words, no other exchanges, no anything aside from the fact that I felt comforted by him. I wanted to believe he was an angel sent to console me and keep me from killing myself. But I am a deist so…
We both got off at Paseo, exchanged final glances, and then went our separate ways. I will never see him again, I’m sure, but there’s one thing he made me realize: I am complete, adequate and I deserve to be loved.
The most beautiful and convenient thing about this city is that when you’re about to lose your grip, you will always have a hand to hold.
Thank you, stranger, for holding me even just for a short while.