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Monday, May 21, 2018

The Empty Chair

The ship magician gestured to the empty chair in front of me. "I made him disappear," I said mischievously. "Pouff... Just like that." He looked confuse for a moment, and then he laughed.

I have always hated being alone. My solitariness is usually done out of necessity: nobody wants to hang with me. Or that I feel it's too much effort to get people to hang with me. Or when insecurity kicks in and I feel people merely felt obliged to take me in.

Yet last night, as I gazed on the empty chair, I found peace. My group was dining in the other dining area, but I choose to sit there by myself. It's lonely. It's quiet. It's an anomaly in a ship filled with thousands of people. At the same time, it's comforting.

That night on the ship's dining room I realized I have been gravitating away from my group almost right away. We started as a 36 people group, but I found myself hovering up and down the deck alone the very next day. A little lost soul floating around. And I loved it.

Being content is a dangerous thing. It's highly addicting. I wanted love and companion for sure. I will be lying if I said I wasn't trying to get lucky the whole trip. Or that I didn't feel a pang when I saw my ex-crush's post on Instagram. But I also want that empty chair.

I am content with myself. A great achievement, I might add. I finally loved myself enough to enjoy my own company. The empty chair can stay empty, I am not missing anything. I savor the experiences I have. Every single one of them is wholesome already.

The empty chair might not be empty one day, but it's not going to be an easy feat. It is not going to be mere physical attraction, it will be the dance of the dragons: synchronizing each other's minds and movements, welding each other's goals and passion.

That night a squad of girls walked by, the lead was wearing a sash that says "Bride to Be". A couple can be seen kissing each other on the other table. Insecurity came and climbed on the empty chair, and started to sob hysterically, "Why am I not good enough?"

Abigail, my innocent-looking attendant from Philippine, came and put down the appetizer in front of me. "Enjoy," she said warmly. I looked at the salmon cake. I looked at Insecurity, still bawling its eyes out. "Get lost," I said with a cold, dead smile. "That chair is taken."

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