“The art of losing isn’t hard to master,” says one poem. My high school friends always told me that if there was one thing that they admired about me, it was my ability to ALWAYS look on the bright side. True, I was like that. But something robbed me of that optimism. I kind of lost myself somewhere.
On New Year’s Eve, I was about to go to the kitchen when I tripped on my toe. It was excruciating. But then, I made myself believe that I needed that pain to start the year right, so that everything I would feel from then on would be less painful. I was wrong. It was just the start.
I have lost so much since this year started. I lost my 3-year old mp3 player on the way to the office on January 2. I lost my ATM card a week later. And then, I lost my motorcycle while it was parked at the garage of our house in Batangas two weeks ago. I lost P5400 the other night somewhere in Ortigas after a fun gathering with my co-workers. I even lost my toothbrush somewhere in my apartment. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two opportunities I’d rather not discuss. I lost all the hopes of passing the Foreign Service Exam, which I worked hard on but screwed up just because I failed to follow one simple instruction. I lost my drive to work hard. I lost my passion for writing, even screenplays. I lost my love for the littlest things. I lost my direction. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two really good friends this month. I lost one to Australia. The other, to the United States, which is now the home country of many of my close friends. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
And I really, really like someone. But I’m afraid he doesn’t feel the same way. I’m afraid to love him. I’m more afraid to lose. Sometimes, it is not the idea of losing that gets me. It is the feeling of being a loser.
The art of losing isn’t TOO hard to master.
Yes, when I was in high school, I would always look on the bright side. But if there’s one thing that college taught me, it is that some things are so dark they don’t have a bright side.
*with apologies to Elizabeth Bishop