A Moment to Remember

The soft and tender underpart of her upper arm grazed my fingertips last night. I surrendered to the memories of her telling me some weeks ago that she started using a different kind of deodorant. Enchanted joked that she wouldn’t make me smell them, but what she didn’t realize was that I longed to get a good whiff of her cherry blossom pits. Another missed opportunity, I suppose…

I had a moment with her though. While laying me to bed, I looked into her eyes and she looked into mine.

“You don’t have to be jealous about Lisa, by the way,” I said to her, referencing that I was excited about another one of my favourite nurses coming for several nights in a row. “I love it when you come.”

Truth be told, I can’t be angry at her, no matter how hard I try. I just make excuses so I think I’m on the verge of getting over her. She is indeed one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and falling for her is a cycle that never seems to end.

“I feel safe whenever you come,” I continued while she took a sip of water.

“That’s good to know.”

“You’re special.”

“I try to be,” she joked again. “Just kidding!”

“You don’t have to try.”

After turning to the other side for the continuance of physiotherapy, I was relieved to discover that if I wasn’t her client, she’d have considered me to be a friend, instead of brother or cousin. She later said brother, but I denied her change of mind when I said she was too pretty.

“You told me once that your boyfriend never wrote you a love letter before, right?” I asked.

“Well,” she started, “he did leave me a note once with my lunch.”

“That’s not a love letter.”

“I know, but…”

“He’s an idiot.”

“My boyfriend is an idiot?” she grinned.

“He should write love letters to you all the time! Girls love that kind of stuff. I know I do.”

“I’m old-fashioned,” I explained. “I’ve never received a love letter though.”

“I’m too romantic for my own good.”

Eventually, I confessed that I had given up on romance, following the number inquiry at National Sports. Honestly, it had been a long time coming. I wanted to use the scenario to let go of the hope for my romance for good. Yet as I told her, I realized again that comfort would never be a luxury of mine because she had nothing much to say. I think a lot of times, girls are afraid of mending my heart, in fear that I might get the wrong idea.

“At times, I wish someone could just say ‘I would’ without fearing that I might get the wrong idea,” I wrote in my upcoming autobiography, “but even the ones who tell me it’s possible could never say those words.”

I don’t like being right sometimes. I don’t like settling either, especially for women who have sticks in their hair!

“If I had a girlfriend, she better be prettier than you,” I exclaimed. “But that’s sort of impossible!”

“It better be,” she laughed.

And then it happened again when I looked at her, so I told her for the first time ever.

“You’re a little shy, aren’t you?” I asked.


“Whenever I look at you, you immediately look away and giggle.”

“I remember when you first came,” I began saying, “you were tired and you made two fists and rubbed your eyes. I loved that.”

Her face probably hurt at that point!!!

“My heart is numb,” I said. “But it melts every time I see you.”

Before falling asleep, I made one last confession: “I think I tell you too much sometimes, but if there was someone in the world that I wanted them to know who I am, it’s you.”

“Goodnight, Ricky,” she smiled.

“Goodnight, Enchanted.”

Last night was a moment; a series of moments to remember. I admit that it probably wasn’t ours, but mine, another creation fabricated by my foolish, lonely heart. I love her too much, and yet, there is no hope.

The Silver Lining

Letting go isn’t easy. Truth be told, I’ve never gotten over any of the women that I loved. I’ve been trying with Enchanted for the past while, without much success, not surprisingly. However, I’m slowly allowing myself to be released from her spell. Another failed romance, another friend to gain…

But this is a good thing, I suppose. I need to be cleansed of this hope, tainted by the undying fractures of my heart, which continues to haunt. I haven’t even had a moment with her in several weeks. The last time we did, I was telling her once more about the girl I love and made her cry.

“On the outside, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” I told her.

“On the inside, she’s the most beautiful girl in the universe.”

She started wiping her precious teardrops away. And while sharing photos of her late father, I made a confession.

“I love your Dad,” I said.

She started smiling at that point.

“Why?” she asked.

It was then that I held her hand in eye contact as best as I could.

“Because he gave you to me.”

At that moment, I realized again that her diamond droplets weren’t salty at all. They were in fact, the sweetest cries that my heart had ever tasted.

I admit to being caught completely off guard when I discovered that she donated only ten dollars to the Walk for Muscular Dystrophy. It had nothing to do with money, just that I was surprised at how she seemed as if she didn’t want to give. Though, it stabbed like a knife when she told me that the doctor from her work suggested making a donation.

“So of course I told him he didn’t have to,” she explained.

Was she purposely trying to hurt me? Like the time when she told me about the house that she and her boyfriend might be purchasing in the future. As I hesitated while still being kind, there was a guilt trip awaiting me.

“Or not…”

She has to know that I’ve been in love with her since a long time ago, right? Then again, it might all be a misunderstanding. I guess what frustrates me most is that she’s still with that jerk of a boyfriend. What kind of guy jokes about getting engaged? Enchanted had to tell him to stop.

Last Thursday, I went shopping for a cap at National Sports after getting sunburned (the consequence of not listening to mother). As I made the swiftest turn to take another look at the gear, one employee caught a glimpse of me and smiled. I stopped to smile back, but hers was so darn cute.

Upon seeing the beauty that defined her existence, I wanted to love every part of her. I daydreamed about lying next to her under the bluest skies, surrendering to the sunshine that made the golden curls of her hair melt into her darker roots. In my fantasy, I whispered in her ear how much I adored her everything.

“You’re strangely beautiful,” I softly spoke, “the way you inhale and exhale, how your shiny eyes blink, and the way you’re so alive.”

“How could such loveliness be real?”

Oh, how I wanted to exist inside the rhythm of her sweet breath. Was I in adore again, with the girl without a name? In reality, however, I turned around and gave her my giant mechanical ass when she walked past me, following our strange glances. I needed to redeem myself.

So obviously, Mom had to blow my cover, revealing to Dad my little secret. It was utterly embarrassing, especially since I was in the shower at the time, naked and blushing. Then she started explaining about the birds and the bees, and how young men were attracted to pretty ladies!

When I made my return yesterday, I was a nervous wreck, but forced myself to make the move… after telling my parents not to follow me. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I just zoomed towards her way.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked back.


“I think your smile…” I said, as I timed my next ventilated breath.

“Thank you!”

Somebody kill me now!!!

“…is adorable,” I continued. “I saw a part of your heart last week and it was precious. I had to come back to see you.”

“Can we talk sometime?”

I don’t think she heard me as the conversation halted. She developed a huge grin on her face, but kept doing her thing. I refused to give in.

“Can I have your number?”

“I have a boyfriend.”

In fear that she felt like a horrible person, I immediately asked, “You know how people feel guilty about letting someone in a wheelchair down?”

“Don’t feel bad, okay? I’ll be fine.”

I didn’t know if she was in fact worried. I simply had to make sure she was all right. I drove back to my parents all red, with ears burning.

While shopping around, Mom dragged back to that girl to ask where we could find the Nike sportswear I wanted. Nosy! I smiled at her from a distant afar and witnessed how lovely she was, one last time.

Before leaving the store, I looked into the mirror and puckered up at myself. I realized that I didn’t have balls. I had grapefruits.

“I love you, Ricky,” I whispered.

During the van ride, Dad mentioned that it was a lost cause, so I explained the importance of looking on the bright side. Although the outcome wasn’t one that I desired, even when anticipated, I proved that I was indeed a big shot, unafraid. I needed this because sadness, above all else, is the catalyst for my great romance, in life and literary form.

Save Me, Someone

I think I’m going to grow boobs pretty soon.

It was only on Friday midnight when Enchanted couldn’t stop talking. Ever since she started coming once a week, we’ve been chatting like there was no tomorrow, but it was different. She was so much more comfortable. In fact, she just stood there next to me, holding my pee, and kept yapping away. I laughed at how adorable she was being, but soon realized again why I could never fall out of adore with that girl. When she finally left my room for the bathroom, I couldn’t help myself.

But that wasn’t an isolated incident, at least recently! A few weeks ago when she was giving me the urinal, she started talking about her boyfriend. She said that he kept teasing her about proposing and had to tell him to stop, or else her heart would be disappointed. I wondered to myself how someone could be such an idiot with her and realized that if she could still love him, I’d never have a chance.

Why do I have to love her so much? She keeps making me cry… can someone give me a hug already?

You know it’s funny because while a handful of inspirational cripples are all focused on sex and prostitution, all I want is a girl to talk to and hold hands with. What the hell is wrong with me? Absolutely nothing! The real question is what the hell is wrong with the rest of them?

Apparently, I’m a chauvinist pig for not respecting sex workers for their choices, and apparently, I just need to “get laid”. Sad, really. I was watching a repeat episode of Dragon’s Den a while ago and this entrepreneur wanted them to invest in her hair salon for men with female stylists that would dress up in scantily clad fantasy costumes (i.e. business woman, schoolgirl, etc.). How is that different from opening a “massage parlour”?

Such people always tell me that I’m a hypocrite because my “opinion” is opposed to my respect for women. Well, let me inform you how I respect women! I don’t respect all women, just like I don’t respect all men. I respect women as human beings, for the choices they make. I respect women who respect themselves for who they are, not their bodies, and if that makes me a pig, then so be it. I don’t really give a damn anymore.

I respect women enough to know that sex slavery and human trafficking is real, while participating in paid sex is also a potential of participating in rape. I respect women enough to understand that you might be taking advantage of a girl who had been sexually, physically, or emotionally abused in the past. Yet “men” are so afraid to have an opinion because they fear losing their chances at getting laid from offending some loose girl who might be willing. Pathetic.

And I just realized that I missed our one year anniversary on March 17! I remember during one of her first shifts, Enchanted unknowingly wore scrubs that were too revealing. I asked her to wear a T-shirt underneath the next time around because even though I really liked her, I didn’t want to see her half naked. I actually never thought of her that way and didn’t ever want to. I refuse to conform with the Duchenne-AIDS Muscular Dystrophy mentality because being a gentleman is something I strive for. Call me old-fashioned, but I still believe in marrying the girl I love before making love with her. I might end up a virgin for life, but I’m saving myself anyway.

Then again, although I stand firm in my values, my life isn’t the whimsical, positive fairytale that everyone makes it out to be. People think having a wheelchair means that I’m living in lala-land because I don’t need to worry about the darkness of human existence, but there is… darkness. I just didn’t tell you.

This disease has rendered me so strong that I’ve become liberated from needing anyone, but the nightfall of my heart remains unseen. You want to know the cold, hard truth? I want to need someone and be free of this emotional independence I had built since years ago. My heart is hurting, but not to the point where it’s broken. I’d sacrifice with death for a chance at something broken because a broken heart would mean I was loved for real, for once.

There is no eloquence in this romance of mine, this conflicted reality that conquers my heart. Why in the hell do I seek love when there are those who’ve died from DMD, and I should be grateful for the privilege of existence? Are my thoughts and yearnings invalidated because of my imaginary selfishness that is hopefully imaginary? Do I have the right to them? How do I get over these… demons?

Oh well. I was never meant to be another wheelchair angel who would please everyone. People keep telling me that I’m running out of time, but in fact, it’s being wasted. Every time I awake in the morning and realize it isn’t a nightmare, I feel like I’m growing too old. I might be living, but moments wither in the presence of this merciless illness. I want to go back because while all my friends are getting married and having children, all I see is the clock ticking faster.

Not that I want to play games. I don’t care for the devices we use to experience love. I don’t want meaningless sex. I nearly busted a tear duct when Enchanted was sticking a haemorrhoid suppository up my ass because her breasts were enfolding my chest while leaning on me. I wasn’t excited, only wanted to be with her, yet in that moment, there was no dignity.

This living death is agonizing, and so much so that I can’t be numb like I thought I was. I long too much for her to love me. I long too much for our shadows to collide in the winter shades of blue, beside a window where her lips come close to mine as her sweet whispers are breathed into my mouth.

Could someone ever love me? I can’t take this anymore.

In Search of Eloquence

Some call me the grammar police, even a Nazi… I say, language is a beautiful thing. There’s a saying that rules are meant to be broken. However, I appreciate their beauty because if I’m to engage myself in a matter, I’ll always give a hundred percent, or I’d rather not waste time.

You see literature has everything to do with improvisations, and nothing of the focus on restrictions. It’s about working around the guidelines in order to create poetry with words that are not only sleek and chic, but also clear and concise. As a responsible writer, it isn’t all about me when I care about those who make the effort to listen to a part of my heart. Working for readership is a necessity in the system of ethics of who I am.

Following the loss of my ability to draw, I took up this art form as a secondary dream, and although I’m unable to write with my hand anymore, I inevitably fell in adore with these squiggles and lines. Duchenne isn’t a part of me when I begin to lose myself in a blank document I call my home. I forget that I can’t walk. I hope when she comes along, whoever she is, that my literary fingertips might love enough to reach her pretty face.

Goodbye, Hello

It was a little over a couple weeks ago when Enchanted told me what had happened. While helping me pee, she said in great excitement that her boyfriend found the time to give her a nice surprise after mistakenly going to work hours earlier than usual.

“He brushed off my car,” she exclaimed. “And he even got me coffee.”

“My mom was like, ‘He’s doing a lot of stuff for you.’”

“It should be a given,” I smiled. “He is your boyfriend!”

Inside, I thought to myself, Awww, he’s a romantic retard! Deeper inside though, it stabbed like a thousand knives because I realized that no matter how much I did, and no matter the effort I put into making her happy, I’d never be deserving of her precious heart.

You see I know for certain that I’d make a good boyfriend, and keep thinking that I can do so much better than him. However, maybe this is why love can never happen for me. I’m so damned arrogant that I probably don’t deserve to be with someone, but I can’t help but get angry sometimes, being reminded about not having a chance. At the moment she revealed the aforementioned, I knew I had to finally let her go. I got beat by a hot beverage, which made me rethink my entire existence.

For years, I’ve been dealing with extreme physical agony on and off, but over the past several months, it was at its peak. My sister, along with primary nurse Wilma, has been trying to get me into palliative care for chronic pain management. They had a conversation last week and Wilma suggested that I get referred to their nurse practitioner to see if she could help. She then mentioned that Francis would ask if I wanted to sign a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) form, meaning if my heart or breathing stopped, they wouldn’t try to revive me. I had always refused during routine checkups, but seeing as how much I’ve been through in the past year, including hospitalizations, near death experiences, and the “romance” department, I considered it. I was tempted to give up.

As we continued talking, I said that sometimes, even when I feel great, I start to panic and have to take an antianxiety pill just to calm my nerves. I told her I was so afraid of dying alone that it made my heart beat too fast, and I could hardly breathe. I’m more afraid of not fulfilling this dream than death itself, than never walking again. She was so surprised, that after nearly ten years of taking care of me, she didn’t grasp how serious I felt towards love and getting married.

When I explained everything to her, it occurred to me that I couldn’t sign. I wouldn’t. I refused because I can’t die without my great romance, even one real kiss. Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy will not be the end of me, not until I fall madly in love with the girl of my… heart.

But truth be told, I’ve never gotten over any of the girls I’ve ever fallen for. Of course, it might sound unfortunate, but in fact, I’m eternally grateful to the feelings of adoration and despair that they’ve given. I learned what it meant to love, to be a man because of them, from Janine showing me the art of writing through the dotted alphabets she drew in grade one, to Jeannie taking me in her arms and being the first girl to hold my hand. Those experiences didn’t exactly end well when they eventually changed their minds, yet I’m grateful to them because they showed such kindness in the beginning that I saw their hearts and it was impossible to become bitter.

Janine started giving all her attention to six year old pretty boy Ryan, while Jeannie… well, she didn’t have it in her heart to tell me, but I figured she couldn’t imagine herself in a relationship with someone like me. What matters is I learned that when you really love a girl, you have to take in her heart and show the same kindness, if not more. I can’t let myself get over because I’m forever in love with a girl’s intentions, actions, dreams, hopes, and fear to hurt others.

This is the reason I have no resentment, despite all the fractures that have become who I am. I’m stupid for beautiful and innocent and softness and home. I’d rather be hurt than to hurt because all I ever wanted was to be a gentleman and deserving of her sweet love. Letting go of Enchanted is the beginning of my romance all over again.

Last Friday though, I was talking to her and she told me that her sister had broken up with her boyfriend. He, apparently, was incredibly mean and indecisive, but she, even though a highly self-conscious girl, gave him a firm “NO”. I nearly blew a tear duct when I heard that story, and in an attempt to be a friend, asked Enchanted to write her a note…

“Dear Enchanted’s Sister,

You don’t deserve better because you deserve the choices you make in life. I don’t know you, but I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Thank you for setting a great example for women by being you.


I hope I made her feel good about herself.

My Darling Monkey Girl

When it comes to Enchanted, even a day without her seems like forever, so having the privilege of seeing her again last night after more than a week was AWESOME. Though, the poor thing was pretty sick throughout her vacation. She told me about her allergic reaction with the eye drops she used for the redness and stupid me got all misty… even when she took off the mask, her cheeks blushed with a crimson rash were terribly lovely as ever.

Then she told me about her boyfriend being insensitive in that he thought she was over exaggerating, even when she had to often sit during strolls. I almost burst out crying. I would have carried her if I was him, to be perfectly honest! I guess she felt a little guilty and eventually proceeded to defend his lack of empathy by blaming herself.

“I under exaggerate most of the time,” she sighed.

Perhaps I let my emotions get the best of me, or maybe it was that I’m just getting over the bug going around. Following our conversation(s), I was feeling rather faint by the time I was in bed. I ended up having to call Mom so I might get some salty soup to raise my ever dwindling blood pressure, and boy, was it salty. Thank goodness that Enchanted was super sweet.

“If I die…”

“What is it?” she asked.

“If I die and you’re the last person I see,” I continued. “I’ll be glad it was tonight.”

“Don’t say that!” she laughed.

But what she didn’t realize was that I meant every word.

During our midnight talk, she spoke of one of her childhood experiences with a babysitter who neglected her three year old self. She told me about accidentally falling asleep for a short moment as a babysitter. Upon awaking, she nearly had a heart attack worrying about the children, and ran upstairs as quickly as she could. Of course they were still sound asleep. I said she was sweet, didn’t I? Sweeter than a honeycomb in fact…

“Did you listen to the music?” I asked of the CD I made her.

“I haven’t had much time, with the vacation and all,” she said.

“Remember that the final song is for you.”

“I’ll definitely listen to it during my drive to work,” she smiled.

It was then that she told me about her boyfriend giving her a CD also, even when they promised each other no gifts for Christmas. And it occurred to my mind that no matter what I did, regardless of how much thought I’d put in her happiness, she could and would never love me in return. Why?

While continuing my physiotherapy, I had a dream between the lines of fantasy and reality as my blood pressure decreased further. I dreamed of finally confessing my heart, only to have her hush my lips in the middle of my telling.

Why? Because how could I ask her to love someone who might easily leave existence and break her precious heart?

Oh dearie me. I’m so foolish, aren’t I? Yet I still can’t help but ask, why can’t a girl love me already? Why can’t she take me away from this death? I get so lonely sometimes, it isn’t even funny.

I suppose I can only write to my heart’s content, until someone, anyone loves me, but it always turns out to be no one at all.

“So one time, my lip was getting itchy and I scratched it with my teeth,” she giggled. “He asked, ‘What are you doing?’”

“You’re like a monkey, Enchanted,” I laughed. “You’re too cute.”

I love that monkey.

“I don’t want to die,” I imagined myself saying.

“Why?” she would ask.

“Because I don’t want to miss you.”

Silly me, I dreamed into her instead.

That final song for her, it’s Miss You by Westlife.

Because of Her: Revisited

These neuropathic painkillers are making me so drowsy that I’m forgetting half the things I want to say, though I still write way too much.

After giving her the Christmas presents, Enchanted started teasing and making fun of me. I suppose she was so overwhelmed, and unexpectedly, that she didn’t know how to react. While she ripped the condom catheter away from you know who, which always causes baldness a la pubes, she had a little joke in mind.

“You’re getting prepped, Ricky.”

“Huh?” as I scratched my head.

“People pay to get this done,” she laughed.

It was hilarious, but the moment caught me totally off guard. I was like, Dude, what just happened? She was so comfortable with me for some reason… and no one’s complaining!

Before all this, following her shower of gifts, she gave me a huge hug, which was rather AWESOME. However, it was different in that when she leaned over for the embrace, one of her boobs crushed my hand that was on the armrest.

Was it an accident?

At the time, the headrest was mounted onto my wheelchair. When she closed in on me, her head was on my left shoulder, meaning her torso should have been aligned in front of me. This also means her left breast should not have had any sort of contact with my right hand. Hmmm…

Either way, my fingers are not pressing charges. They already got pressed!!!

So was she flirting with me? I’m still trying to figure that out, but the strangest part has to be the fact that none of it was awkward.

Sigh… I’m so stupid. I cried thinking about it the other night. I still want to run away and giggle!

Did I mention that my ventilator tubing popped right out of my neck? She gives me premature exhalation.

Because of Her

How many times do I have to fall in adore with her before she loves me back? This lonely mind of mine still wonders sometimes…

It was only last Friday that Enchanted returned following the passing of her father. As she entered the warmth of my home from the freezing winter cold, I watched and heard my parents console her. I always seem to regret the things I’ve no control over, and in those moments, I was sad that I couldn’t reach out to embrace her too.

Though I had already written her an e-mail message on the day I found out what had occurred, all I could say was a meaningless sorry. I was just afraid she didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to break her precious heart all over again, and avoided the topic throughout the shift.

But then, for some reason, I was shown otherwise when she revealed her heart during pillow talk. Perhaps she read mine? Who knows… but when she finally spoke of Dad, as she called him in my presence, her beautiful face glistened with the most enchanting diamond droplets. She gave me the privilege of comfort through words, like holding me as if I was holding her.

She spoke of her divorcee mother first, who was being insensitive, which is understandable since pain can often blind a person. (This sentence is for brownie points in case she becomes my mother-in-law… one can dream, right?)

“You’re a good woman, Enchanted,” I smiled at her. “You’re going to be a great Mom.”

With tears rolling down her pretty cheeks after the Dad moment, it was my chance to tell her the truth of the day of the sad news. I wasn’t myself that afternoon and evening while I was getting her Christmas gift made at the mall. I was so worried about my girl who wasn’t mine.

“These neuropathic painkillers I’ve been taking make me kind of depressed,” I started. “They give me suicidal thoughts.”

“While I was at Sears, I wanted to throw myself down the escalator,” I continued. “But I couldn’t.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I couldn’t do that to you after the loss of your father,” I said. “You’re too important to me.”

“Well, thank you for not throwing yourself down the escalator,” she smiled.

“I’m too scared to do that anyway,” I laughed. “I scared Dad.”


An excerpt of a message I wrote: “Your sadness, even though it breaks my heart, inspires me to find happiness again so I might set an example for you that possibility is always possible and cheer your heart. Didn’t you know that your smiles and giggles mean a lot to me? You’re my friend.”

When she was here for Christmas week, I told her it was to be a good one…

“Because I’m here for two days?” she grinned, cheekily.

“Am I THAT predictable?”


You wouldn’t guess it, but that became all a part of my evil plan. Except, on the second day, she said something with regards to an engagement while brushing my teeth, to which I silently freaked. As it turned out, she was talking about a friend. She ended up making some joke that implied she would never be asked. Um, hello!

Predictable? Actually, unpredictable gave the best Christmas ever. That night when I gave Enchanted her gifts, including an unofficial ‘Breaking Bad’ T-shirt that I made with the logo “Awesome Nurse”, crystal meth candies that were supposed to be blue but turned out like Kryptonite, a Sudoku book, and CD with a custom music compilation (laced with subliminal messages of course).

“Let me take off your tray so I can give you a hug!” she exclaimed, while dismantling my robot exterior to get closer.

Now, you’d think that was the most awesome part of all, but noo! I’m not much of a card person, so I wrote her a letter. Right before leaving her shift, I saw the darling creature standing in front of me, teary-eyed.

“I read your letter, Ricky,” she cried. It was beautiful.”

This year, I didn’t care about gifts or material things. All I wanted for Christmas was her happiness. I promised myself that I’d try and get her happy again, somehow, and inside the envelope were a picture and the note, which wrote of separating the comforter in her and the one hurting. I wrote of how she needed to find that little girl from within and be there for her as her father did. I also talked about the day of her accident and how I took a photo of a sunset that shined so much more beautifully at the time:

“You were right when you said that someone was looking out for you from up above. Your lovely existence shined through when the angels saved you.”

Indeed. Her presents took quite a bit of effort, but girls know when you take the time to understand them. She, after all the hard work, SMILED, and I couldn’t have asked for more. I know she’ll probably never love me in return (that way anyway), but when you really care about someone, all that really matters is her.

Everything, Okay

“I think Tay Tay is getting a little too skinny,” I started.

“She won an award just a few days ago,” she said. “Did you see it?”

“No, I missed it, but yeah,” I continued. “I don’t like overly thin girls.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Why can’t all girls be perfect like you?” I smiled.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m ‘perfect’,” she laughed.

“Face it,” I smiled again. “You’re perfect.”

She was giggling rainbows and raspberry cheesecake gummy bears at that point.

“And Taylor Swift needs more bacon!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t we all…”

Oh how I miss my Enchanted, though she isn’t even mine. This one shift a week business is really starting to get to me. I need to learn to be more grateful.

But remember that sort of love letter I wrote to her on her birthday? I also included a music compilation disc that I made. I still wonder if she got my subliminal message from the arrangement of the tunes, yet apparently, she keeps it in her car and listens all the time. So when I had the opportunity, of course I took it, and little did I know I was in for another surprise.

“Enchanted?” I asked. “Do you still have that CD I made you after the accident?”

“Yeah… I do!”

“Really?” I asked with great curiosity. “I thought it would have been destroyed.”

“In fact, it was one of the first items I retrieved from the wreckage.”

Obviously, I was going to announce this “us” moment on Facebook, but little did I know I was in for yet another surprise. A sweet look on her face, she told of a security guard at work who asked for her number. I was rather tickled when she thought it kindly of him to chase after her. Who wouldn’t want to hold hands with this terribly lovely creature?

She then proceeded to tell another story of some jerk-face from months ago who got all angry because she wouldn’t let him buy her a drink. She said she was already happy with her boyfriend and didn’t want to be with someone else. And as I saw my fractured look in the reflection of her eyes, I felt my heart begin to sink. I quickly faked a smile so she wouldn’t further see.

Why do I always fall for the girls who can never love me in return?

I suppose it shouldn’t hurt so much since somewhere in my heart, I already knew I hadn’t much of a chance to begin with. I try to be a gentleman in my many attempts at being sincere and humble, but seemingly fail every time. Then again, if you really love a girl, you can’t get upset when your feelings are not reciprocated. You have to respect the loyalty of her romance and love her for her heart all the more.

Putting me to bed via the ceiling lift, I looked into her deep brown eyes and she looked into mine. Although I needed repair, my heart mended a little when I realized how happy she was and decided to get a few more brownie points.

“When you really care about someone,” I said. “You have to care about them no matter what.”

It made her smile huge, which was all that I wanted. This is about rising above who I am and learning to be more. I don’t want to be the guy who likes a girl who doesn’t like him back and treats her like garbage. I want to be a gentleman.

That evening, I was in so much pain, but Enchanted held hands with me. It was something to remember as she grasped my palm so tightly. While I’m tempted to reinvent the scenario, I don’t have the heart to take advantage of the girl who stole it, even when I long for her softness to graze against my lonely skin.

Nurse Hopeless was here the other evening and almost killed me once more, getting me to sleep at 3:30am still. Hopefully, this will be her final night following an e-mail message to the supervisor. She made me feel so hopeless that I was in tears.

“I’m right here with you, Ricky,” she whispered to me, the girl inside my heart.

“Where are you, my dearest love?”

“Everything is going to be okay,” I said to myself.

The Reconstruction of My Heart

“You look comfy,” she said, while I was lying in bed, awaiting physiotherapy.

I looked at her kindly. Only when I’m near you.

Upon her coming closer to teach my routine to someone new, one of my wrists lacked the necessary support and dilapidated. I realized again that even if I won her heart, I wouldn’t possess the physical capacity to take care of her. Her eyes discovered mine again as my heart fell apart.

That was a week before her accident, while last Friday was the first time I saw Enchanted since. She, thankfully, didn’t get hurt, even though her car was totalled and the driver side smashed.

“…there must be someone looking out for me up there!” she wrote in an e-mail message on the evening.

When she arrived at our doorstep, my Spanish Cinderella was greeted with the warmest welcome by my parents as I looked from my room, wishing I could be there. I overheard that she was okay. Her comforting words were all that I had to calm my foolish heart.

“I’m so glad to see you here.”

“I’m so glad to see you too,” she smiled.

She then proceeded to complain about her boyfriend being insensitive. He apparently asked if she still wanted to go for dinner following her near-death experience, which upset me as well, though I secretly smiled. And it didn’t matter that she was orientating the same nurse from above. Only she and I existed between the surrounding spaces.

“So how is the new wheelchair coming along?”

“The technician came this afternoon and fixed the seat panel that made my legs numb. However, I’m still having problems with the chest strap.”

“Sigh…” she softly whined. “Nothing ever goes right for you, does it?”

“You came,” I cheekily responded.

Enchanted was behind me at the time. I saw the nurse in training turning her head towards her, giving the ‘he’s in love with you look’.

Rewind to the day of her misadventure.

While entering the mall, my joystick wasn’t in a very good position for one reason or another. As I went to go inside, I hit the frame of the door with one of my armrests and the janitor immediately suggested that I use the “wider” entrance. Oh no you didn’t!!!

Man, what a major dis. Twenty years of driving and I got my mechanical ass handed to me by some cleaning lady?!

But time stood still during the van ride to the restaurant. The sunset glowed an orange marmalade radiance from the distant afar. I got Mom to snap several pictures with her new phone. In retrospect, I realized why it shined so much more beautifully when it was close to the time when her lovely existence was saved.


Fast-forward to yester-week.

I always hated that I didn’t have the strength to reach out for someone. It makes me feel useless. Yet seeing her darling self, I knew it was now or never and had to get over my insecurities.

“Can I give you a hug?” I asked.

“Of course,” she smiled.

Time stood still when she wrapped her arms around me that night. She held me for a moment or two as I closed my eyes in those seconds that were forever ours. I felt the warmth of her forearm as it grazed upon my lonely face.

“Thank you for being alive,” I whispered.

“Goodnight,” we both exchanged.

As I laid in bed content, I heard them talking in the kitchen next door. I wondered if she was asked if she knew that I had fallen in adore with her…

On the outside, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and inside, she’s the most beautiful girl in the universe.