The Fragility of Heights

Life is a cycle of highs and lows. Nothing lasts forever. Do not let success or wealth make you arrogant. Stay humble and treat others with kindness. True happiness comes from contentment and gratitude, not from things that fade away.

When They Don’t Understand You, Show Them!

When you ask them to understand, they don’t. When you ask them to feel your pain, they can’t. When you share your struggles, they weigh theirs heavier than yours. Words don’t always reach them. The impact is shallow. But put them in your shoes—let them walk your path, even for a moment. Let them feel what you feel. Let them see what you see. Only then will their eyes open. Only then will they truly understand.

I had told him several times that I didn’t have an extra pair. He didn’t seem to care. I even explained that my old shoes were almost two years old and falling apart. Still, he insisted. This time, I didn’t bother replying. What else was there to say? I decided I’d deal with it when I got home.

When I arrived, I sat down on a wooden bench, pulled off my shoes, and slid them over to him. “There you go, bro. Your shoes.”

He picked them up, turning them over and over in his hands. He inspected the front, the back, the inside, and the soles. His silence said it all. Those shoes were beaten up. Wrinkled leather, flimsy support, and the kind of wear and tear that screamed, Please retire me.

His face changed. Frustration mixed with disappointment. It was hard to miss. Everyone in the house could see it. He had expected something else. He thought I’d bring him a new pair from Port Moresby. In his mind, city life meant flashy cars, shiny shoes, and an easy, dreamlike existence. What he didn’t know was how hard we hustle every day just to keep our heads above water.

The next morning, I asked my mom for her slippers. I had nothing to wear. My shoes were still sitting in the house, but I couldn’t bring myself to put them back on. I thought maybe my brother had forgotten them. I figured he’d come back for them at some point.

He didn’t.

He came around the house a few times after that, but the shoes stayed untouched. Eventually, I put them back on and returned to Port Moresby with them.

Here’s the truth. 
Graduating with a degree doesn’t mean a good job is waiting for you. Getting a job doesn’t mean you’re earning enough to live comfortably. People back home don’t understand that. They’ll ask for things you can’t afford to give. They’ll expect more than you can offer.

Explaining doesn’t help. I’ve tried. Sometimes, the best way to teach them is to let them see for themselves.

REMEMBER THIS:

• You’re not broke just because someone says you are.
• You’re not a bad person just because you don’t meet others’ expectations.
• It’s okay to make decisions that upset people, even the ones you care about.

Sometimes, the right thing to do isn’t the easy thing. But it’s still the right thing.

GOD ANSWERED, When Death Called

On Thursday, the 4th of February 2021, I woke up to the sterile walls of the Emergency Ward at Port Moresby General Hospital. It was a week before my birthday. But that same day could’ve been my deathday. Exactly seven days apart. Coincidence? Maybe. Miracle? Definitely.

The memories from that time still creep into my thoughts. It’s chilling to imagine how close I came to the other side. Death isn’t some mysterious idea anymore. It’s real. Too real. It’s that dark, cold, and unwelcoming place no one wants to visit. I think of the mortuary at Port Moresby General. The corpses lying there in lifeless silence. The frosty air. The stench of finality. Would anyone dare to “try it out”? Of course not. But one day, we all end up there. For me, that day wasn’t it.

That night; Thursday, around 8:00 p.m.; I felt my body shutting down. It started with a numbness that spread like wildfire. My arms, my legs, everything froze. My jaws clenched so tightly I thought they’d snap. My tongue started pulling back into my windpipe, and I couldn’t stop it. I could feel death closing in. It was no longer just a word. It was a presence, hovering so close I could feel it in my bones.

But God; the God of all-knowing, the Lord of all possibilities; He stood in death’s way. He said, “Not today.”

Seven days later, on my birthday, I sat at my desk scrolling through LinkedIn. Notifications flooded my screen. Over forty people had sent me birthday wishes. Happy Birthday, they said. Each message hit differently. All I could think was, If I’d died last week, today wouldn’t be a celebration. It’d be a funeral.

I couldn’t shake the thought. What if I had gone? What would my friends say? My family? My connections? Being young, fresh out of university, and yet to live the life I’d dreamed of, it seemed unfair. But life isn’t fair, and death doesn’t discriminate. Good health, plans, ambitions; it doesn’t matter. Death comes to us all, whether we’re ready or not.

In those moments, as death loomed, everything I once valued seemed meaningless. The things I worked so hard for, the dreams I held onto; none of it mattered. It was humbling. It was terrifying. And it was a wake-up call.

Today, I’m thankful. Thankful that I didn’t die. Thankful for the lesson I learned in the most painful way. Having a near-death experience changed me. It gave me a new perspective. A new hope. A renewed strength to live differently.

God didn’t want me to be the same person turning another year older. He wanted me to be someone changed, someone who’d seen a glimpse of death and learned to lean on Him completely. Yes, aging means we’re one year closer to the end. But it also means one more year to live with purpose.

I’m grateful to celebrate another birthday. But what I’m most grateful for is this: TO STILL HAVE THE LORD OF HOSTS AS MY GOD! 

SCARS WITHIN ARE ROADMAPS TO OUR SUNSHINE!

FAILURE COMES ONLY TO THE PEOPLE WHO BELIEVE WHEN OTHERS SAY 'YOU WILL FAIL.'

Where flowers bloom, so does hope. They radiate smiles, spreading joy with their fragrance. Even a single rose can attract a thousand bees, tirelessly weaving the delicate harmony of nature. And yet, sometimes, the hands that hold these roses are trapped within walls, shielded by impenetrable stockades. For the conceited heart that owns the garden, beauty becomes a private pride, a treasure locked away. The world whispers, “This beauty is your own creation.”

I watched the mighty birds soar across open skies. Their offspring; like roses blooming in concrete gardens; were both radiant and lonely. Laughter was the music of their souls, a fleeting melody in a silent room. In my teenage years, I was like an orphan dwelling in chaos. Hopes felt like fragile seeds buried in barren soil. Surrounded by faceless crowds, I wandered a sea of despair. Finding solid ground seemed impossible, and the warmth of sunshine felt as distant as a thousand days' journey.

Going to school was a monotonous march, like flogging a dead horse. I crawled through life like a snail, weighed down by the burden of inadequacy. I envied the light that others carried, the glow that seemed so unreachable. Once, I lived in a world that felt orderly and bright, where I watched people flourish in their backyards. But everything changed when the light of my moon dimmed. The brokenness of my past and the veils of my uncertain future filled me with dread. Though I appreciated a select few, most people offered no hand to guide me through the darkness. My life felt like a bird with broken wings, unable to soar.

Struggling against the relentless waves of life was never easy. The harsh words of my own relatives cut like daggers, leaving wounds that lingered long after. The world around me; perched on hilltops of judgment; looked down coldly. My heart swelled with oceans of tears, carrying the weight of their disbelief. Neighbors saw no future in me, convinced my climb would lead to nothing. They pointed to the past, to failures they had witnessed, dismissing any attempt to rise as futile.

But now, I look back with gratitude. The scars etched in my heart have become the roadmaps to my soul, guiding me toward light and understanding. I once believed life was a race, but it’s not. Life is a battle; not one where we defeat others, but one where we triumph over the perceptions that tether us. It is a fight to redefine who we are, to claim the beauty and strength that are uniquely ours.

LIVE YOUR LIFE! Do not race against others; the world you build is your own creation. Life rewards us not with what we want but with what we truly deserve. Embrace your scars, for they lead you to your sunshine.

I Never Knew Who I Resembled Until I Met a Strange Woman!

Photograph of myself - 2020

One of the oldest questions I’ve ever wrestled with is this: “Whose image do I carry?”

I grew up with just one parent; my mom. Life with her was full of ups and downs. It wasn’t easy. A lot happened and there are countless stories I could tell someday.

I do remember snippets of my childhood, though. Moments that feel like fragments of a dream. I remember sitting on my dad’s lap, spinning the steering wheel of his blue Mitsubishi L200. I remember the excitement of the gifts he’d bring home from Port Moresby and other big places. I recall how he brought electricity into our home, lighting up wooden houses with the hum of a generator. Our plates were always full, meals overflowing with variety.

Back then, I called someone “Papa.” That word carried so much warmth. But it didn’t last. When I was just two or three years old, my dad left. Not for a short trip or a work assignment. He he left for good. I remember watching him walk away. And just like that, “Papa” was gone from my vocabulary.

Mom told us he wasn’t coming back. We slowly accepted it. I never understood why, but we were even prohibited to call Papa's name. The few memories I had of him faded over time. I couldn’t even picture his face anymore. We had photo albums, sure, but I never had a photo of him to keep. That part of my life felt like it had been erased.

Still, as the years passed, one question remained in my heart: “Do I look like my dad?” Nobody ever told me, not even my mom. That is, until a stranger gave me an answer that changed everything.

A Stranger With Answers:

It was January 7th, 2017; a day I’ll never forget. The morning sun broke through the cold misty mountains, with golden rays sneaking through roughly woven blind. We were in Kakaliaka Junction for an awareness that UPNG KSA Students carried out. As the chairperson, I was leading the event, starting off with the necessary intros.

The crowd was massive. Their murmurs echoing with curiosity and anticipation. As I stood to speak, I noticed an elderly woman in the audience who wouldn’t take her eyes off me. She smiled warmly and whispered to the woman beside her regularly.

As soon as the awareness ended, the woman approached me with a solid face. She wrapped her arms around me, and said, “So, you really are my son.”

I was stunned. My mind raced with questions. Who was this woman? Why was she calling me her son?

Sensing my confusion, she explained, “Do you know whose son you are? Do you know where you’re from?” She continued, “I’m Kaipae’s wife. Did your mother ever tell you about Kaipae?”

The name struck a chord. My mom had mentioned Kaipae before; a close friend, relative, and business partner of my dad. He was a prominent businessman in our district back in the 1980s. Though I had never met him or his family, I had heard of his name enough to feel a little connection.

The woman told me something that left me speechless: “Your forehead, your nose, your ears, your smile, even the way you speak; it’s all your father. That’s how I recognized you immediately.”

In that moment, I realized I carried my father’s image. My heart swelled with emotions I barely put into words. That stranger; Kaipae’s wife; had given me a gift I didn’t even know I needed.

Know This:

Whether your father is with you now, has left, or was never part of your life, one truth remains: You carry his image.

You are not a mistake. You are not a mystery. You are the reflection of your father’s legacy. So, stand tall and proclaim it with confidence: “I WAS, I AM, AND I WILL ALWAYS BE MY FATHER’S CHILD.”

He Said He Wanted to Do What He Does on a Bigger Scale

From July to August 2017, the political scene was a mess. It was a time of great tension, with illegal signing of writs, double declarations, and even MPs being forced to switch sides. The country was waiting to see who would become the next Prime Minister. It was chaos.

At the Wabag to Maramuni Road construction site, Hon. Dr. Tom Lino stood firm. The previous government had failed in so many ways, and people were desperate for a change. But most MPs were blind to the people’s needs, using them only to win votes. The real question was: who would lead the country?

Hon. Dr. Tom Lino at the newly constructed Wabag to Maramuni Road site. 

Meanwhile, opposition MPs in Kokopo had gathered 46 members, hoping to challenge the government. But some MPs quickly switched sides, joining the ruling coalition. Why? Money. The hunger for power was stronger than the needs of their people. It was a sad truth.

Three years earlier, a group of five MPs made a bold decision to join the Pangu Party in hopes of forming a new government. Dr. Jeremiah Tom Lino was among them. He was the youngest and least experienced, having been a doctor, not a politician. He had given up a promising career to step into a world full of power struggles and dirty politics. It wasn’t an easy choice for him or his family.

As a doctor, Dr. Lino was needed in the hospital, not in the mess of politics. But he chose to sacrifice his career for his people. It was a big decision. One that must’ve been hard on him and his family.

Dr. Lino, from the Lanekep tribe in Wabag District, was a first-time candidate. He didn’t know much about politics, but he was determined to make a difference. On July 27, 2017, he was declared the winner of the Wabag electorate, securing 22,463 votes as an independent candidate. He defeated Robert Sandan Ganim, a member of the PNC party. His victory was just the beginning.

Behind the scenes of government formation, things were far from simple. MPs were offered ministries, cash, and promises of big projects. They didn’t have to chase power—it came to them. But Dr. Lino stayed true to his values, not giving in to the temptations around him.

His people were excited about his victory, but they weren’t sure which side he’d choose. Some thought he’d join the big parties. Others hoped he’d join forces with other Engan politicians. But Dr. Lino surprised everyone. He joined the opposition. His decision left many wondering: why?

During this time, Dr. Lino faced personal loss. He lost a brother. Despite his grief, he returned to Port Moresby for the funeral. There, he met with supporters and shared his sorrow. It was in that moment I saw a man with a deep history—a man who would make a difference.

Dr. Lino’s words were powerful. He understood his people’s frustrations. He said, “I know what my people want. But I can’t chase money. I want to remain a free man.” These words showed his strength. In a world of corruption, where money often ruled, Dr. Lino chose to stay true to his principles. 

The day after, on August 24, 2017, Dr. Lino told Loop PNG that he had joined Pangu. He wanted to work with leaders who believed in change, transparency, and integrity. He promised to show that opposition MPs could still deliver. His words were a breath of fresh air—offering hope for the future.    

Dr. Lino’s journey as a doctor wasn’t easy. For seven years, he served as the head surgeon in his province, saving lives. His work was fulfilling, but he knew his impact was limited. He wanted to do more. That’s why he ran for office—to serve the people of Wabag on a larger scale.

Now, three years later, has Dr. Lino delivered on his promises? I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this: his actions speak louder than words. He’s shown his commitment to his people.

Hon. Dr. Tom Lino with two water boys for the construction
workers.

Wabag District is different from other districts in Enga. It’s home to Wabag Town, the provincial capital, and has some key government services. But one place has been left behind for years—Maramuni.

Maramuni is a remote area, surrounded by thick forest. The people there live in poor conditions, with no road access. It takes them two or three days to walk to Wabag Town. There’s a small airstrip, but it doesn’t help much. The people of Maramuni suffer, lacking basic services like healthcare.

For years, no one paid attention to their plight. Previous MPs and provincial leaders ignored them. Only missionaries visited, flying in and out in small planes. But Dr. Lino changed that. He made it his mission to build a road that would connect Maramuni to Wabag. A road that would bring healthcare, education, and economic opportunities to the people.

A Maramuni Lady with Hon. Dr. Tom Lino at the road construction site.
The picture shows how people of Maramuni Travel the long walk.

Dr. Lino’s vision was clear: he wanted to bring more than just medical care to Maramuni. He wanted to change the lives of the people there. The Lino Highway, as it’s now called, is proof of his commitment. It will connect Maramuni to Wabag, opening up opportunities for generations to come.

Dr. Tom Lino’s story is one of courage and sacrifice. His work will be remembered long after he’s gone. The Lino Highway will stand as a testament to his legacy, a symbol of hope for the people of Maramuni and Enga. And as people travel down that road, they’ll remember the man who made it all happen.

May the people of Maramuni, Enga, and Papua New Guinea always honor Dr. Lino’s legacy. His dedication to his people will inspire future leaders to put their people first, not their own greed. The Lino Highway will always remind us of what can be achieved when a leader chooses integrity over personal gain.

I Never Said Good Luck so You Could Come Back & Have it Tried on Me!

A broken heart has a wound that nothing heals.
Just leave it to the healing hands of Time!

Is there anything that’s entirely hidden in today’s era? It’s quite hard to say 'no' while denying reality. Lately I’ve seen a friend going restlessly blaring. I've figured things aren’t going well with her. Anyone could have noticed that, it’s obvious. 

It’s becoming a trend in this age that we don’t hold things back; we don’t ask for permission; we don’t wait. Maybe we’ll apologize later. All we want is to first jump in. We have developed an emotion that drives our breath so restless to throw up anything out of our mouths. 

It’s quite funny, yet it is just how it is – this is happening and maybe we’ll have to leave with it. In relationship especially, when it is broken the next moment both or one of the partners become the wisest person ever, teaching all that wonderful stuffs in social media. Staying up restless, posting one shit after another keeps the person busy till daybreak with an anticipation that someone would fill up that vacuum within.  

My friend used to be a very content person; I’ve known her for a long time. We’ve been good friends then to love doves since a long way back. She never knew a single thing about social media, though she was a young girl of my age. She used to tell me Facebook wasn’t good for young people. She talks different about those of us who were on social media, which sometimes put me off to at an extensive level of guilt for using it. But, to be honest I liked her for it too. 

She was different from us, very matured and rare. I feared much of talking unnecessarily with her as she always put me off too. Jokes were never part of her life. She never had any ambition for fun and entertainment. But now, it’s a whole different story for her. She’s gotten so famous at the very place she never liked before. Now she speaks all the wise-man wisdom, bible quotes alongside with even filths spilled out from the same mouth with restless uploads of blares and blares. Should I call that self-pity or should I say she’s become an over-night motivational speaker? What else will I call her when she goes silent again after getting served?  

           

Sometimes weirdest moments strike when you least expect them to or even not at all. You don’t anticipate a slightest wedge of an incursion into your life during a fine day, do you? I left all the books that explain thirsts. It’s Friday of course the weekend falls and I’m totally lost in its enchanting beauties. My entire attention’s on the juicy water melon. It pours out the liquid of its soggy substance that quenches the thirst of my whole body. Drunkards say “never mind the bottle. As long as it gets you drunk.” That sound’s Sweet, right! I wouldn’t care much. The crowd wasn’t my concern. I’m a happy-go-lucky guy at this place without knowing how it will ever get there.

It’s typical being like this at this place – Waigani market, the place you always feel like you don’t care about anything. It’s overcrowded almost every day and noisy and smelly all together at once, yet we still like it here; or should I say I like it here. I don’t have good manners too while finding myself at waigani market. People say you should be descent; eat right and at right places. Well, to be honest I forget all that courtesy lectures. I don’t desire to tell anybody to become like me but,  I do feel sometimes that I’m another witless goat feeding arbitrarily on just anything laid squarely across those dirty wetly shelves. As long as my uncaring consumption manners never trouble me, I prefer it the best place.

Well, let’s cut that crap of dirty-beauty stuffs about waigani market for now. I’m there at this place doing my normal stuffs. Like I said it’s Friday afternoon and I’m very busy. I never knew I would meet the most feared person in my whole life here. I had a strange feeling running through my nerves and it bothered me very much. It exerted a massive pressure on my blood that got me impatient. I have no idea if the sixth sense works this way it was a very strong feeling. A sturdy radiance of a tailing from a far hooked up with my spirit. Did this happen by some sort of coincidence, or had someone been following me? Spinning around to see who it was had me placed to a great regret – I shouldn’t have done that; I shouldn’t have turned around. 

What my eyes saw reminded me of a million stuffs that I buried a few years back, and that I promised never to look again. I looked away at the same instant as I realized who had been watching me all along. I then started to act as if I never saw anything. I wished nobody ever saw me too. I just didn’t want any trouble. My movements switched. I stopped eating and pretended to be a gentle man. Little 50^t for sliced cucumber went in trade for a plastic bag and now I started collecting lettuces, onions, ginger and other stuffs that I didn’t even have in my shopping list. I wanted to pretend I’m busy shopping and to escape through it.

Unfortunately however, I never knew I was the target; I mean I wouldn’t have known. Sliding sideways through to the exit was a failed attempt. My hasty moves must have been obviously noticed. This nerve-wracking person was already there. My tiny world’s on a massive shake as she’s closing in gently with her eyes tacked hard on me. I never wanted it to be real. My pulse rose and I could hear the rustling crashes of my fretful heart beating so fast.  I thought I was hallucinating, yet it continued to keep my pulse impatient. I kept whispering to myself that it wasn’t real. No wonder this happened – as she was my ex-girlfriend. I wished I was Doctor Strange to have performed magic to create an escape portal right where I stood and disappear through it. To my misfortune it wasn’t possible. I just waited tensely to be knocked down with reality.

     

I have feared so much that I would meet my ex-girlfriend someday. Some say your first-love is your love forever others say your first-love is your best teacher ever, yet others say it’s just a game doesn’t matter who’s the first or second or who comes and goes. But to me, I don’t know much. Loving the one I never knew wasn’t mine had always been an awful nightmare to me it hurts every day. I blame myself very much for letting her go too. I know I did nothing that pushed her away. It was entirely her decision, yet I regret to some extent. I could have tried a hundred times more. Or, could have I gone to her home begging for her stay, perhaps five times extra.

Sitting on my knees twice in front of her family members at her home only left me in shame and crushed. I just can’t picture that moment again in my mind now. It disappointments me and bring me through to a lot of setbacks. Putting together the better moments we had and those we could have had together keeps me awake until daybreak. I sometimes wish I’d never been in that relationship. No one fought with me for me. All those in that house watched me teasingly as I may have looked stupid and senseless. Of course I now feel that is a stupidest thing I ever did back then though; I never cared what people would say about my actions, as long as I wanted her so much. Sitting on my knees at her home with merely tears seemed nothing.

I have no idea how this moment transpired at waigani market though. I don’t know too if she mastered my escape lucks or should I perhaps say the nature wasn’t on my side. This time I couldn’t do what I always do to avoid seeing her. She was already standing next to me whispering a soft ‘Hi’ into my ears. It didn’t take long enough. All that happened years back were brought back from graves. I remembered that evening when a smooth tap of “Hi” knocked on my messenger from a beautiful girl. Back then she was an angel, a light in my dark. You could see those oily linings on her face that emits a scrumtrelesent shine clearly. It was barely heard to find a single wring on her glossy look. My cold heart gets so warm every time I’m with her. The magnitude of salient lightning she radiates through that charisma on her face plunges my heart forever to a serene surface.

She gets so prettier when she expresses anger and even beyond when she is happy. My lullabies had always been those angelic reverberations captivatingly gripped in her voice to flow through thick and thin for her love for me. There had never been a single day in our calendar with rain or sun; or neither had we have time nor space between us. Never could I go hungry or tired while sitting next to her. This life had me seeing us together as an exemplary couple years ahead, raising kids, involving in business standing side by side, worshiping the Lord together and living a happy life forever. Now all that people say about regret has become reality. Dreams have been shattered as reality took over! How have I brought this fantasy to myself?    

Seeing her again at waigani market laid a solid touch on the wounds that I managed so hard to keep unspoken. I hardly figured what’s gotten into her; nobody ever told me, not even today. I have asked myself hundreds of question to see if I could indicate a possible thing that could have been the reason. Was it because I was poor and didn’t have any parents? Or, because I couldn’t buy her any presents on her birthdays? I understood very well of differences in our statuses. She was better than me in just everything, she knew that better too! But, she knocked and knocked until she’s finally allowed in. When I denied being in relationship with her, she persisted. She used to tell me I was just the kind of person she ever wanted to be with. This had me thinking she saw a better thing in me that I never saw myself.

Every time I look at the mirror, I see a different person; ugly and a parentless orphan who has nothing that is in anyway a diamond. I used to think nobody would ever want me and love me. My clouded mind accustomed me to class myself to a level below everyone else’s waist. But having a beautiful girl around me gave me a new hope. The feeling had always been different with her. I never felt like this before. She turned my world around and made it so colorful that to repay I could do just anything for her. I didn’t want her treat to go to a waste. So, as crystal as I remember, I have never let her down in anything she ever needed me for. Not for once I saw my insolvent conditions as any reason to stay away. Sadly, on that unforgettable night at her family home when she told me I was a pathetic looser and that I wasn’t her type however, this impressive world I’ve built around her completely crumple to ashes. My heart was torn apart.  

I don’t remember well how I got home. The Usual Magnetic touches of delightful pillows this time didn’t work; all seemed worthless. It’s 02:00am in the morning and I’m still up. I couldn’t go to sleep. Trying to figure out what went wrong had my mind exasperated. My blood kept boiling out and through every vein. It’s a displeasing whiff of setback from alongside that covered the whole night. I took a several bath, even tried a countless breathing exercises just to find ways in to have control over mind, yet to no avail. None of what I tried brought out a single glimpse. 

Turning south seemed pointless.  Looking up clutched me lost to an ocean of emptiness as this load beneath my neck weighed me to ground in wide grave of an outright darkness.   It was gruesome. I never knew trickles ran through and off my ears to the pillow. Huge vapors of hot tears drowned me as I struggled to keep my head above waters on an overflowed lake. That morning was soundless, yet it squeezed me firmly and silently to one fold. All my strength was gone, I was choked. It felt like the world was ending.  I was just at the verge of throwing myself off to a hanging cliff. Having me humiliated by the one I gave my life to and left crushed at the earth’s floor buried me forever.

Only two things were possible; either to let go her and start my life all over again or to just take my life and end all the pain that morning. The two wrestled through the discomfort of which one is now very clear that I chose it. It was honestly the hardest thing to do ever; to say “good luck” again to a person that I thought was forever mine had my heart torn right down in the middle. I couldn’t see perfectly to type those words as hot tears unceasingly collected around my eyes. My whole system rejected giving me the permission to let go her. 

It fought so hard to keep her still snug to my heart. ‘If I let her go, I would forever be hurt’ as I was reminded. To completely forget her was simply to take my life and it seemed a best option too. I actually tried at least once a lethal injection with a ½ inches syringe containing a mixture of drugs. Despite this polydrug use obviously, I’m still surviving and I have no explaining for how and why it didn’t work on me.

What a surprise, yet saddest day this was at waigani market? Some say ‘the world is too small.’ Do they mean people that we’ve crossed paths come around again, or do they mean it’s actually small? A pretty girl that I’ve ever known was long gone! The current was a million times different from what it used to be. I couldn’t believe what my eyes saw at waigani market. Just a few years and she became that? She looked pale and craggy. I had no idea where she got those mangles on her face? She lost her bums. It couldn’t even hold up a tiny flyer thigh she had put on to her waist. 

She came in her work uniform, which didn’t fit in well. Those electrifying sparkles of her eyes were long gone. She looked as if she just walked out of a highland-smoky house. I just wondered what happened; her swollen eyebrows reminded of a countless abused women and girls I see every day in social media. She had lost all her strength that she couldn’t balance up her poster at waigani market. It couldn’t even work when she tried with her usual smile. All that it brought was only a resemblance of sense of that simper when it used to be radiated from her charm within.

I was very angry at first; never wanted to see her face anymore. I remembered that unbearable pain I endured; those moments when my days turned dark and rained every day. Sadly however, that wave of sadness took over. Seeing a thoroughly different version of her in her looks troubled me too. All that beauty left her snug to a great vacuum. I replied her with a fluffy ‘hi’ and that’s it. I never dared to look. She asked how life has been at my end thoughtlessly and I gave her no reply. 

I quickly turned back on her and walked away. As a person who’s been around with me for a long time and that she understands very well of my weaknesses, she followed me out to the car park outside the market. She knows what it’s like when I’m angry & she has just the flattering remedy for it. This time she may have thought it’s just like always. Clearly, she forgot when and how we broke up and why.

She said she wanted a talk. She added that she missed me, or she misses us. Oh yeah, it was very clear now. No wonder she was so restless on facebook. So she actually had an emptiness within herself that she wanted to bring across to me?  She couldn’t message me through inbox though as I blocked her of conversations. She was only open to my friends list on facebook. Those restless blares became very clear now. She wanted someone in her life. Sadly however, that wasn’t me; I wasn’t her type and that she made it very clear when she broke up with me. 

Despite her attempts to talk with, I walked in straight to a taxicab and slammed the door shut. She wanted to jump in too but I asked the driver to lock all the doors. As she felt the doors couldn’t open, she stood still leaning to the taxi and allowed thick drops of tears off her eyes. She couldn’t say a word. I pulled down the glass to a bit lower and told her, “I never said good luck so you could come back and have it tried on me.” I told her I was busy mending a heart that was broken into pieces. I suggested it was better if she explored the world and find some guys who were of her type.  

She stood crying as we drove away. From then on, she’s never been on facebook. Maybe she’s gotten herself served better with a best one of her type already.

MORAL: This story may NOT actually be mine & I can’t let you know whose story it is too. But the moral of the story is; do not give someone a false hope! A person with ambivalent heart cannot make a quick promise to be with someone; or to say ‘you can’t make a promise that can’t be kept!’ The world is still full of mysteries. Stay detached until you’ve finally decided!

The Passion & Commitment of the author – YokAlip Kyak