The Angel and the Janitor Boy
Sunday, February 25, 2007
The Angel and the Janitor Boy
And I don’t know where you went
When you left me but
Says here in the water you must be gone by now
I can tell somehow
One hand on the trigger of a telephone
Wondering when the call comes
Where you say it’s alright
You got your heart right
Swollen eyes and the taste of morning in my mouth. The same sensation I felt when I went to sleep, for it was already morning when I did. The calm morning sun licked the side of my bed, warmed not the sheets or my frozen bedroom and heart. The temperature controlling device of the air-conditioning must have went haywire in the night, because my legs were frozen even under the cover of the sheets.
Nothing has changed outside the bedroom window, only the color of the scenery and the people busying the streets. Cars stopped and cars moved at the lights, people busying themselves about the streets, and the security guard welcomed the next one who came to change shift with a stretch of their arms in the air, from the exhaustion and lack of sleep of the previous night. Nothing has changed, and the world went on as usual.
Still, the trauma of last night did not leave me, even as I stood by the window and stared out into the brightening sky. There was a strange and insensible urge to open the window and scream into the horizon, just how the hell the world is able to function and go on with me being on the brink of oblivion. But then again, who are you to say that the world should seize with the breaking of your heart? Who are you, in the first place - or what? Everything happens as it should, even if for you, nothing happened as it should have.
Mom," Good morning! Are you going out today?"
Me," ...no."
I stared at the blue and white patterns on my bed for the longest time, watched as the dots started to merge and form strange shapes before my eyes. My eyes were playing tricks on me, conjuring strange hallucinations. Hallucinations - how I wish everything to be just that, and not the brutality of life's honesty. I cuddled myself under the sheets in the night, feeling the phone with the tip of my left hand, hoping for a slight vibration to hint the coming of the words of regrets; of apology; of love. But nothing happened throughout the night, just the constant surfing through the old messages saved through time.
I told you before of the image that I have at times, of the light in the ceiling turning into the moon, and the bed turning into a wooden plank in the middle of the vast ocean. The floor and the furnitures falling away into the dark waters, and just me and the sound of the waves lashing at my side. No one ever accompanied me on those imaginary voyages of mine, and for last night, I only wished you to be there with me, even if your presence was merely the result of my hallucination. Even so, you never came. Just the sound of glass cracking I hear all around the room, which was later realized to be merely the sound of something breaking inside my chest.
Maybe I’ll sleep inside my coat and
Wait on your porch ‘till you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight
We share the sadness
Split screen sadness
I hate myself, because I am a disgusting partner. This crime that I have committed cannot be forgiven, for I have sinned against her in my thoughts in the deep night, fully prepared for the day to come when she leaves me. Like I said, nobody should ever think of such possibilities, but deep in the night, my thoughts wander out into the far reaches of my mind, and in those places I have no control over myself whatsoever.
I took a walk today in my neighborhood, just walking the narrow pavements and under void decks. This is the neighborhood that I grew up in, I thought to myself. This is the place where I have grew up in, gotten used to, and numbed in. Numbed, a sudden smile streaked across the face of mine right then, for that word struck as being fitting of my emotions then, surging through my heart.
This break - this deep breath that you are taking now - must be the closest I'll ever get right not to a break-up. We both need answers, and perhaps you more than me. This is the closest I will ever get to the deepest pits of emotional hell, and the disturbing aspect of it was that I was not afraid of it, mentally prepared and just waiting for it to happen. It is wrong of me to be ready, to be on standby because this is not what I had in mind of a relationship, not what I had in mind at all.
This is like the deep breath before the punch in the stomach, the way you brace yourself against something shocking, something terrifying or painful. But this is not a punch, this is not the wooden plank you stand on before you leap off the side of the bridge during a bungee jump. This is a heartbreak, and can anybody be fully prepared for that? Can anybody confidently say that they are prepared for a heartbreak? As much as I am afraid of it, I am afraid that I might be prepared, or am I making any sense? I am bracing myself for the worse, because at the end of your deep breath my dear, I see myself breaking into pieces and with you, never turning back.
If one of us leaves, it is going to be you first and not me.
You," An optimist would say 'The world is ending!', and a pessimist would say 'No it is not'. I think it describes me very well, and it isn't so bad being a pessimist."
My ass.
And I don’t know where you went
When you left me but
Says here in the water you must be gone by now
I can tell somehow
One hand on the trigger of a telephone
Wondering when the call comes
Where you say it’s alright
You got your heart right
*
Swollen eyes and the taste of morning in my mouth. The same sensation I felt when I went to sleep, for it was already morning when I did. The calm morning sun licked the side of my bed, warmed not the sheets or my frozen bedroom and heart. The temperature controlling device of the air-conditioning must have went haywire in the night, because my legs were frozen even under the cover of the sheets.
Nothing has changed outside the bedroom window, only the color of the scenery and the people busying the streets. Cars stopped and cars moved at the lights, people busying themselves about the streets, and the security guard welcomed the next one who came to change shift with a stretch of their arms in the air, from the exhaustion and lack of sleep of the previous night. Nothing has changed, and the world went on as usual.
Still, the trauma of last night did not leave me, even as I stood by the window and stared out into the brightening sky. There was a strange and insensible urge to open the window and scream into the horizon, just how the hell the world is able to function and go on with me being on the brink of oblivion. But then again, who are you to say that the world should seize with the breaking of your heart? Who are you, in the first place - or what? Everything happens as it should, even if for you, nothing happened as it should have.
*
Mom," Good morning! Are you going out today?"
Me," ...no."
*
I stared at the blue and white patterns on my bed for the longest time, watched as the dots started to merge and form strange shapes before my eyes. My eyes were playing tricks on me, conjuring strange hallucinations. Hallucinations - how I wish everything to be just that, and not the brutality of life's honesty. I cuddled myself under the sheets in the night, feeling the phone with the tip of my left hand, hoping for a slight vibration to hint the coming of the words of regrets; of apology; of love. But nothing happened throughout the night, just the constant surfing through the old messages saved through time.
I told you before of the image that I have at times, of the light in the ceiling turning into the moon, and the bed turning into a wooden plank in the middle of the vast ocean. The floor and the furnitures falling away into the dark waters, and just me and the sound of the waves lashing at my side. No one ever accompanied me on those imaginary voyages of mine, and for last night, I only wished you to be there with me, even if your presence was merely the result of my hallucination. Even so, you never came. Just the sound of glass cracking I hear all around the room, which was later realized to be merely the sound of something breaking inside my chest.
*
Maybe I’ll sleep inside my coat and
Wait on your porch ‘till you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight
We share the sadness
Split screen sadness
*
Nobody begins a beautiful thing expecting an end. Nobody buys a beautiful dress thinking about throwing it away sooner or later. Humans do not work like that, no matter how you see yourself - a Romantic or a Sentilmentalist. Either way, nobody ever falls in love thinking that it is going to end inevitably. That is not the way humans are built, and we only want to feel like we think this way because it sounds or feels romantic or heroic to do so. But in truth, there is nothing romantic, or remotely heroic about breaking the heart of yourself and somebody else's.This is an imagination.
The boy hears the sound of soft weeping from behind closed doors, but in his everyday uniform and the mop in his hand, he dared not open the door to her room. To sit outside her room everyday to hear her breathing, is where he wants to be on most nights when things are fine, but not tonight. Tonight, the sound of breathing was replaced by that of the lady's weeping, and once in a while the sound of crashing vases and broken china.
The cast of the the hit show Masquerade has been in town for a month's performance, and they have been staying in the hotel that the boy works at. He knew not of the name to the main actress of the play, but he is quite familiar with the role that she plays, for he has heard of it from friends. She plays "The Angel", and it is not difficult to see why she was chosen for the role. For her jet black hair was always neatly bunched up upon her head like a crown, and in the dimness of the corridor, even after the wildest night of partying down at the bar, she would always be at her best. From down the corridor the janitor boy watched with curious eyes, and always mesmerized by the aura that The Angel brings with her each time as she enters her room, until rudely interrupted by the closing of her bedroom door and the click of the lock.
She is the only comfort for working in the late nights, while all his colleagues are resting, he toils up and down the carpet of the corridor where she sleeps, just to catch the sound of her changing or breathing from the other side of the door. He was afraid of his boss, that he might fire him for spying on his 'very-important guest'. But he cared little this time, for The Angel is so pretty off the stage, and always with a tingle of sadness in her eyes the janitor boy knew not of why.
The boy hears the sound of soft weeping from behind closed doors, but in his everyday uniform and the mop in his hand, he dared not open the door to her room. To sit outside her room everyday to hear her breathing, is where he wants to be on most nights when things are fine, but not tonight. Tonight, the sound of breathing was replaced by that of the lady's weeping, and once in a while the sound of crashing vases and broken china.
The cast of the the hit show Masquerade has been in town for a month's performance, and they have been staying in the hotel that the boy works at. He knew not of the name to the main actress of the play, but he is quite familiar with the role that she plays, for he has heard of it from friends. She plays "The Angel", and it is not difficult to see why she was chosen for the role. For her jet black hair was always neatly bunched up upon her head like a crown, and in the dimness of the corridor, even after the wildest night of partying down at the bar, she would always be at her best. From down the corridor the janitor boy watched with curious eyes, and always mesmerized by the aura that The Angel brings with her each time as she enters her room, until rudely interrupted by the closing of her bedroom door and the click of the lock.
She is the only comfort for working in the late nights, while all his colleagues are resting, he toils up and down the carpet of the corridor where she sleeps, just to catch the sound of her changing or breathing from the other side of the door. He was afraid of his boss, that he might fire him for spying on his 'very-important guest'. But he cared little this time, for The Angel is so pretty off the stage, and always with a tingle of sadness in her eyes the janitor boy knew not of why.
*
And it stings when it nobody’s fault cause there's
Nothing to blame At the drop of your name
It’s only the air you took and the breath you left
"All you need is love" is a lie 'cause
We had a love but we still said goodbye
We had a love but we still said goodbye
Now we’re tired, battered fighters
And it stings when it nobody’s fault cause there's
Nothing to blame At the drop of your name
It’s only the air you took and the breath you left
*
I hate myself, because I am a disgusting partner. This crime that I have committed cannot be forgiven, for I have sinned against her in my thoughts in the deep night, fully prepared for the day to come when she leaves me. Like I said, nobody should ever think of such possibilities, but deep in the night, my thoughts wander out into the far reaches of my mind, and in those places I have no control over myself whatsoever.
I took a walk today in my neighborhood, just walking the narrow pavements and under void decks. This is the neighborhood that I grew up in, I thought to myself. This is the place where I have grew up in, gotten used to, and numbed in. Numbed, a sudden smile streaked across the face of mine right then, for that word struck as being fitting of my emotions then, surging through my heart.
This break - this deep breath that you are taking now - must be the closest I'll ever get right not to a break-up. We both need answers, and perhaps you more than me. This is the closest I will ever get to the deepest pits of emotional hell, and the disturbing aspect of it was that I was not afraid of it, mentally prepared and just waiting for it to happen. It is wrong of me to be ready, to be on standby because this is not what I had in mind of a relationship, not what I had in mind at all.
This is like the deep breath before the punch in the stomach, the way you brace yourself against something shocking, something terrifying or painful. But this is not a punch, this is not the wooden plank you stand on before you leap off the side of the bridge during a bungee jump. This is a heartbreak, and can anybody be fully prepared for that? Can anybody confidently say that they are prepared for a heartbreak? As much as I am afraid of it, I am afraid that I might be prepared, or am I making any sense? I am bracing myself for the worse, because at the end of your deep breath my dear, I see myself breaking into pieces and with you, never turning back.
If one of us leaves, it is going to be you first and not me.
*
You," An optimist would say 'The world is ending!', and a pessimist would say 'No it is not'. I think it describes me very well, and it isn't so bad being a pessimist."
My ass.
*
Strange men enter her room once in a while at night, and always for a long period of time. The last man that entered, the janitor boy realized, caused much pain and much hurt for The Angel. He pressed his ears to the door and listened, but all he heard were muffled words and screaming. A vase crashed next to the door, the silverware tumbled off the table and crashed to the crowd as the boy continued to listen with the mop next to him. Nobody was around, nobody down the corridor to spot him. He listened, as the strange man's voice rose over all the chaos into a crescendo and then everything went silent.
He stormed out of the door and the boy pretended to be cleaning the carpet yet again, though he has been doing so for the hundredth time. The door was left ajar, and as soon as the strange man disappeared through the lift doors, the boy took a peek into the bedroom where The Angel stays.
Broken glass were strewn all around the floor, and the room was in an utter mess. In the middle of the room The Angel sat still in her evening gown, but her hair was all over her face and buried in her palms, tears seeping through the finger gaps and falling onto the cold hard floor. The janitor boy stood by the door with the mop still in hands, unable to move and unable to speak, for the view before his eyes were astonishing at best.
"Are you okay?" the janitor boy managed to say, as he took a step into the room. The Angel looked up, and turning away from the eyes of the boy she wiped the tears off her faces with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry about this mess," she managed to utter under her breath. "I will pay you." The janitor boy smiled as he swept the broken glasses up, and arranged the paintings on the walls. He came by The Angel and as her beautiful eyes met his, he placed in her hands a couple of coins from his pockets.
"Enough for a shot or two down at the bar. It is still opened now, my treat?" the janitor boy said.
The Angel smiled, and laughed in her melodic laughter. She agreed, with tears still welling up in her eyes. Not because of the lingering pain of the strange man's palm on her cheeks, but for the warmth that the few coins injected into her dying veins, breathing new life.
He stormed out of the door and the boy pretended to be cleaning the carpet yet again, though he has been doing so for the hundredth time. The door was left ajar, and as soon as the strange man disappeared through the lift doors, the boy took a peek into the bedroom where The Angel stays.
Broken glass were strewn all around the floor, and the room was in an utter mess. In the middle of the room The Angel sat still in her evening gown, but her hair was all over her face and buried in her palms, tears seeping through the finger gaps and falling onto the cold hard floor. The janitor boy stood by the door with the mop still in hands, unable to move and unable to speak, for the view before his eyes were astonishing at best.
"Are you okay?" the janitor boy managed to say, as he took a step into the room. The Angel looked up, and turning away from the eyes of the boy she wiped the tears off her faces with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry about this mess," she managed to utter under her breath. "I will pay you." The janitor boy smiled as he swept the broken glasses up, and arranged the paintings on the walls. He came by The Angel and as her beautiful eyes met his, he placed in her hands a couple of coins from his pockets.
"Enough for a shot or two down at the bar. It is still opened now, my treat?" the janitor boy said.
The Angel smiled, and laughed in her melodic laughter. She agreed, with tears still welling up in her eyes. Not because of the lingering pain of the strange man's palm on her cheeks, but for the warmth that the few coins injected into her dying veins, breathing new life.
*
So maybe I’ll sleep inside my coat and
Wait on your porch 'til you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight
So I’ll check the weather wherever you are
Cause I wanna know if you can see the stars tonight
It might be my only right
We share the sadness
(Two wrongs make it all alright tonight)
Split screen sadness
(Two wrongs make it all alright tonight)
"No Sir," said the janitor boy. "But it sure seems like you've had a good time fucking the room upside down. Nobody should treat a woman like she is a worthless piece of trash. Every woman deserves to be loved. Even if it is coming from a worthless janitor like myself, love is love. You cannot change that for a fact. You cannot treat everybody as trash sir, not everybody is as trashy as that girlfriend of yours."
"Clean up the mess huh?" the strange man said, and his face gradually turned red. His fists were clenched and the janitor boy could see the veins in his temples growing in size. The strange man glared furiously at The Angel, and then back at the janitor boy who now stood before him, with his chest out and braced against everything.
But not this, not this.
Wait on your porch 'til you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight
So I’ll check the weather wherever you are
Cause I wanna know if you can see the stars tonight
It might be my only right
We share the sadness
(Two wrongs make it all alright tonight)
Split screen sadness
(Two wrongs make it all alright tonight)
*
So through the night and out of his uniform, the janitor boy cleared up the mess in The Angel's room and had a drink with her down at the bar. The avoided the existence of the strange man, and all the time keeping their minds off other painful subjects such as love, save for the growing one that was between the two of them. Some might say that the life of a stage actress and the life of a janitor of a hotel can never be, for they are as far apart as you can imagine in this cruel world that we live in. But there in the dark bar with the city lights spreading out fifty floors down below like a galaxy of stars, love was possible between The Angel and the janitor boy.
A few nights later, down the same corridor, the strange man entered her room once more. The same episode happened to her again, as the janitor boy listened again through the locked door. Once again, the strange man burst out of the door and gave the janitor boy a cold stare. Through the opened door, he could see The Angel sprawled on the floor on all four, broken down and beaten. The strange man adjusted his pants and started off down the lift lobby when the janitor boy yelled after him.
"I've cleaned up your mess a dozen times, sir. At least this time, help to clean it up."
The Angel stared at the janitor boy bewildered, for nobody has ever spoke to the strange man like that ever before. The strange man paced back towards the janitor and breathed into his face, the smell of tobacco thick in his breath. 'Help you clean?' he sneered. "Are you fucking with me?"
A few nights later, down the same corridor, the strange man entered her room once more. The same episode happened to her again, as the janitor boy listened again through the locked door. Once again, the strange man burst out of the door and gave the janitor boy a cold stare. Through the opened door, he could see The Angel sprawled on the floor on all four, broken down and beaten. The strange man adjusted his pants and started off down the lift lobby when the janitor boy yelled after him.
"I've cleaned up your mess a dozen times, sir. At least this time, help to clean it up."
The Angel stared at the janitor boy bewildered, for nobody has ever spoke to the strange man like that ever before. The strange man paced back towards the janitor and breathed into his face, the smell of tobacco thick in his breath. 'Help you clean?' he sneered. "Are you fucking with me?"
"No Sir," said the janitor boy. "But it sure seems like you've had a good time fucking the room upside down. Nobody should treat a woman like she is a worthless piece of trash. Every woman deserves to be loved. Even if it is coming from a worthless janitor like myself, love is love. You cannot change that for a fact. You cannot treat everybody as trash sir, not everybody is as trashy as that girlfriend of yours."
"Clean up the mess huh?" the strange man said, and his face gradually turned red. His fists were clenched and the janitor boy could see the veins in his temples growing in size. The strange man glared furiously at The Angel, and then back at the janitor boy who now stood before him, with his chest out and braced against everything.
But not this, not this.
*
I called
because
I just
Need to feel you on the line
Don’t hang up this time
And I know it was me who called it over but
I still wish you'd fought me ‘til Your dying day
Don’t let me get away
Cause I can’t wait to figure out what’s wrong with me
So I can say 'this is the way that I used to be
There’s no substitute for time
Or for the sadness
because
I just
Need to feel you on the line
Don’t hang up this time
And I know it was me who called it over but
I still wish you'd fought me ‘til Your dying day
Don’t let me get away
Cause I can’t wait to figure out what’s wrong with me
So I can say 'this is the way that I used to be
There’s no substitute for time
Or for the sadness
*
As brave as the janitor boy was, his body crumbled against the mighty jolt of pain that surged through his body. The hole in his chest spurted blood, and gasping for air the boy collapsed in the corridor. The Angel came to him screaming for help, while the strange man ran away back down the corridor and into the lift that opened up and swallowed him.
The janitor boy laid still, and with every beat of his blood his lift escaped one second at a time. The tears of The Angel fell upon his cheeks and his gaping wound, healing not the broken heart that the strange man shot but the departing soul of the janitor boy. He looked up into her beautiful eyes welling up with tears then, and then down at the hole in his chest where the bullet entered and broke his heart into pieces.
Very soon now, he thought to himself for he was too shocked to speak. Very soon. He grabbed The Angel by her face and pulled her close. He felt the breath inside his lungs running out, the image of The Angel sitting next to him in the bar and talking long into the morning hours flashed through his mind as the last breath came to his mouth.
Trembling and with much effort, he whispered into her ears as she placed her palm on his broken heart.
"Even so," he managed to speak as they both looked down at his heart in pieces. "Even so...I love you...i love you."
I still do.
The janitor boy laid still, and with every beat of his blood his lift escaped one second at a time. The tears of The Angel fell upon his cheeks and his gaping wound, healing not the broken heart that the strange man shot but the departing soul of the janitor boy. He looked up into her beautiful eyes welling up with tears then, and then down at the hole in his chest where the bullet entered and broke his heart into pieces.
Very soon now, he thought to himself for he was too shocked to speak. Very soon. He grabbed The Angel by her face and pulled her close. He felt the breath inside his lungs running out, the image of The Angel sitting next to him in the bar and talking long into the morning hours flashed through his mind as the last breath came to his mouth.
Trembling and with much effort, he whispered into her ears as she placed her palm on his broken heart.
"Even so," he managed to speak as they both looked down at his heart in pieces. "Even so...I love you...i love you."
*
I still do.
This entry was posted
on Sunday, February 25, 2007 at 7:43 PM.
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