Seven

 Yesterday was my seventh year of stay here in US of A. I was casually telling this to my workmates and I discovered that all of  us remember the exact day and year that we all flew to this country. It is a date like birthdays and anniversaries, engraved in our memory.

Seven years. How shall I describe it??  Two ends of rope with opposing tales. One is like nothing has changed, it is still the plain Mitzi that left Philippines with a heavy heart, leaving Mamang and my comfortable, secure life and true friends. The Mitzi oblivious to the harsh realities of life.The other end on the other hand is the Michelle, I myself can barely recognize now. I look myself in the mirror and wonder where is everything going?? The directions are crooked, fate is unknownst and I remain catatonic in mind while my hands tremor.

As books, motivational speakers and successful people say, "Do not regret anything in life." Sadly, I have one. That is migrating here on 2015. I left the woman who loved me the most and she died after two years. And in 2020, I met the man who I loved the most but broke  and bruised my heart and soul.

Had I stay in PH, who knows my Mamang could have lived longer and happier. 

Had I stay in PH, I would not meet someone who made feel alive with his love and passion. Yet I chose to die for him to live.

Seven years. Feels like seven times seven. I am extremely tired.

Seven. Regret. Tired.