Martian Notes

Being betrayed feels like eating a fly.

The feeling of disgusts attacks episodically, incurring the visceral pain that gradually numbs the body. The soul has long been lost since the d day, discovery day. The soul was lost somewhere deep in the abyss of abandonment.

I was betrayed, troubled and hurt. Hopes were dashed and dreams were clashed. I was pulverized. Wandering with a heart blown into pieces, I was a lost soul. Things I thought never could happen just had happened, laughing at my self-absorbed reverie. I thought I was lucky, happy and fulfilled. In the end I was just living in a coma of full-blown naivety.

There should be four stages of recovering from betrayal. Shock and anger are the first stage, with doors slammed and homes stormed out of, and lots of alcohol. Sorrow and despair are the second phase, lasting longer than the previous one. Evidence of betrayal flashes back at some weakest moments, in the countless midnight when sleepiness never kicks in. The evidence of immortal intimacies just fuels the fading anger and lets despair pour in, ending in humid and boundless sorrow. What are the next two stages? Acceptance and turning back to normal? I don’t know. I am still grappling with the lasting phase two. When will the next phase arrive and how? The answer I don’t know and hopefully I will know someday, maybe when all my memories fade away, out of exhaustion or decadence.

Right now, I am still chewing the fly, an unchewable one.