Uncapable of being Unnoticed

“The acomadador or giving-up point: there is always an event in our lives that is responsible for us failing to progress”

A friend taps me on the shoulder and I was surprised to see the ‘guy’ I was eyeing on since the start of academic year, about to play for volleyball game.

Volleyball game?

I almost forgot that I am with my block mates on a gym about to witness a game. And there I realized that I was absolutely starting to get obsessed with the book that I am reading because I already forgot were I am at the moment. I closed the book for a while to watch the ‘guy’ but all I could think is what will happen next to the pages I am about to turn. I kept glancing at the tall man playing and the book that I can’t wait to unveil, but for now all I could read is its title: Paulo Coelho: the Zahir.

I was thankful for my friends who kept chatting with me and for a moment I forgot the book. We talked about how cute the guy was that he is a good player, a good leader (since he is the treasurer for the college’s student council) and how he resembles the one I love.

I hesitated to open the topic about the one I love since there is nothing to talk about him, and so I began to cheer loudly and focus my attention on the game. As the crowd’s yells became louder and louder, I stopped. I began thinking of HIM. How is he? And will I ever get the chance to see him again. The feeling of sadness starts to envelope me, the wind caressing my cheeks as if sooner it will be again a path of tears. I remember the book and how the main character describes his wife as his Zahir, that nothing else occupy his mind.

At the moment I began to think that I was already developing my Zahir, the man I am constantly thinking day and night, night and day, the man who gradually occupies my every thought every chance it gets. I am starting to feel the emptiness again and so I force myself to focus on watching the game. Noisy cheers and the slapping of balls is all I want to hear. But the memory of my Zahir kept coming back and the game is of no use: we are about to lose. My last resort? Paulo Coelho.

“…although on Ecclesiastes it says that there is a time to rend and a time to sew, sometimes the time to rend leaves deep scars. Being with someone else and making that person feel as if they were no importance in our life is far more than feeling alone and miserable in the streets of Geneva. ”

I was destructed by the much louder cheers of the crowd as if it was the peak of the game. I decided to continue reading later and watch the game. As I closed the book and looked up, I saw Touch, my Zahir jumps and slap the ball but I saw other man who went down after the jump. I was speechless for a moment and think that it will never happen, that United States is far from one of the gyms of the UST.

It is then that I said to myself that I am longing for him and that the Zahir still lives in me in spite the denials and so-called moving on.