Friday, April 16, 2010

Liza, the Goddess With A Thousand Hearts

Liza is a goddess to the eyes of many, but she refuses to look at her reflection. She still has scars from the day that she gave her heart away to any man that would take care of it. Her heart, they say, is as big and open as the rainforest with all its bounty. Much more than her heart, her whole being can shelter thousands of lives and it will still have room for those who wander her way.

Humans are never to be satisfied even if they had the world at their disposal. This lesson, Liza refused to learn. She always saw the good in everyone, even if  it meant not leaving anything for herself. She would pop out her starry eyes with her bare hands, so that she would not see the monster that lies beneath the shadows of pretense. She would slit her wrists, to give her own blood to the thirsty carnivores. All these things she would do, wishing and hoping that maybe someday, soon enough, somebody can take her heart once more without taking its life out of it.

Liza, is a woman to love. I saw her looking in the mirror one day, but all she saw was darkness. She never existed, she said. I was confused because I was staring at a beauty, but she could not see it. She took out her eyes, I remembered. She could not see herself anymore, not even the beauty that's left of her world.

Blind and losing life, Liza kept bleeding herself to feed the appetite of the carnivores. She is a woman that had lived a tragedy all her life. A tragedy that she subjected herself to, all because she wanted somebody to hold her heart for her. Why, I asked, do you trust anyone to hold your lifeline, the thing that makes you exist? She said she feels alive whenever somebody made her pulse rise, and she had learned to love the pain, to love the pain whenever a part of her heart was torn apart and used for immediate satisfaction.

I hated Liza, but I loved her at the same time. I love her. I had asked her loyal subjects if I should just leave, because she is hurting me, too. Hurting, is such a strong word. But I hurt because every time I look at her, her beauty makes me feel pain. Her beauty makes me sad. I’m hurting because such beauty should not have been created at the first place because no one can give it enough justice. The loyal subjects could not understand what I meant, because they never saw the true tragedy of the goddess.

The heart that was given away was sent back to the goddess after it was consumed. She gave it back, pleading the carnivores to make use of it once again. She had offered them so much more than what she had. So much so that she gave away her kingdom, her loyal subjects, her right to living.  It was not a selfless gesture, for she is not Liza anymore. Because from the time she saw nothing of her, now, she is staring back at the faces of the creatures who were eating her alive little by little, until she only had skin and bones left. She is one of them now, she said.  And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

Now it’s just me and the thoughts of Liza, then and now. I thought I saw her walking down the street several times, but I wasn’t paying attention. I know I wouldn’t recognize her when I see her, but the chills in my spine I feel whenever I’m around her pops in every now and again.

I was looking in the mirror, I saw that I had scars on my face, but the scars actually looked good on me. I remembered the goddess again. I wish that Liza just gave something that can be mended, something that’ll leave a mark from your battles but never to bother you if you don’t give it much attention. Just as I was thinking about this, the door opened and there it was, millions of hearts that were given to Liza by the people she gave a little bit of herself to.

They thought that they could save her from damnation, so they gave her their lifeline as she had done for them. They said that the presence of her is like a blanket that keeps them warm at night, a comfort that only an angel can give to them. They knew that her heart was somewhere else and never for them, but anyone who had the pleasure of being around Liza would know that a little bit of her is more than enough to mend a broken soul. 

But there was no Liza. No one to pump blood to those hearts that were sacrificed for her salvation. The hearts, with no source of life, slowly turned into ashes and was blown away by the wind. What was once called love by the hopefuls is now an unfair trade of oneself, wherein somebody takes whatever they can get and the other, making themselves as an offering only to be slaughtered by the hands of human beings that never believed in contentment. 

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