A Dose Of Orange Ink

My Cold Night
by Carrots

How will it not become cold? I have nothing to cover my bare body. I stood there, waiting for someone to see me or even appreciate me for what I am. But nobody cared. Nobody looked at me. Am I that dreadful enough to be a solitary being?

I waited for several hours. In the darkness and deepness of the night, the cold breeze began to blow. I shivered and my body was beginning to chill. There were vehicles and some people who passed by me. They paused, stared, smiled and stared again at me. I tried to give back a smile but they walked away. I know deep inside that I am beautifully made by that someone who molded me but I just can't explain why these kind of people do not know the meaning of true beauty.

My feet turned numb. Any minute from now, I was hoping that somebody would see me and pity me. Give me clothing perhaps. I tried to close my eyes and be in harmony with nature. I can now only hear the sound of the melodious crickets. They seem to enjoy the night and sing to their creator a song of thanksgiving. I really don't know why they do that but the thing is, they are happy with what they are doing. Not like me. I am not happy. Completely unhappy.

Here is a man. He is walking towards me but seemed not to care. As I can see from him, he was holding his cellphone in his right hand and a cigarette on the other. He blew his cigar and looked at his phone. Then, he stopped right in front of me. He looked at my body for a while then dialed a number from his mobile. He paused, looked up into the skies, and waited for something. I don't know what that is for I am not that someone who can read other people's mind. All I know is that he is waiting for something- or maybe someone.

Indeed, few minutes later, his phone rang.

"Ga, pwede naman nating mapag-usapan yan diba? Kailangan ba talagang iwan mo 'ko?"

From those lines, I knew what his problem was. And maybe I can help. I tried to open my mouth to talk and console but he began to cry. I never heard of the next words that came out of his mouth. I was distracted by his sincere tears and the continuous beat of coldness.

Finally, he was quite. He sat down in front of me and smiled again. He wiped away his tears and maybe a bit of something from his nose. Oh! I began to be happy that time. Somebody, at last, noticed me. Then, he began to talk.

I wanted to absorb the things that he was saying but from time to time, I felt uncomfortable. I am still standing on that platform, naked and cold. How could he dare stare at me without covering my body first. At last, I shifted my attention to other sceneries. I disregarded his presence and stuck my eyes on the moon instead. I wanted to talk to him beforehand but no words came out of my mouth. I wanted to know the explanation of this but nobody can and I believe no one would give me the chance to defend myself.

"Sana ikaw na lang ang naging girlfriend ko. Hindi mo pa makakaya na saktan ako."

These were the last words that I heard from him before he totally left. I am really determined to answer him. My vocal chords would definitely just won't work. He did not give anything to me- not even a piece of clothe to cover myself. I pitied myself and I began to cry.

That was the discovery I newly had with myself. Wow! I can cry. But yet again, I realized that it had began to rain and the so-called tears that travelled through my eyes were that of the heavens. A gust of wind followed and I shivered pretty well. I can see no person anymore, no vehicles even. The crickets stopped chirping and the moon was covered completely by the proud, dark clouds. I hate this night. I wanted to clothe myself but no one gave me something to cover my image. I wanted to talk and be a friend or be a comforter to those who need one. I even wanted to get out of that mound that I was standing at but I cannot even move limb.

Now that the rain has fallen and I am as nude as the grass, I can do nothing but fight this frosty night of sweet agony. Anyhow, I have seen how people live and deal with their created problems and how nature never forgets to thank their maker. They may not see their life as beautiful as I can see it now but as a keen obsever, I can say that it's perfectly wonderful.

The only thing is that I can never be like them. For how can a statue like me, made up of cement and stone imitate them?