His name is Cristian

We were looking at the three-legged dog that suddenly appeared into our sight. We were at the park in front of the hotel we’ve been staying for almost six days now, seated on a wide elevated floor beside two colorful giant duck structures, facing the trees that passionately wall us from the bright city lights.


The dog was walking back and forth behind us, limping and approaching different people, sitting from one place to another with his owner sitting relatively near from where we were sitting. The dog was really cute. I even took pictures of him. For a moment, we found ourselves just staring at the dog until I’ve spoken rather sympathetically,

“I wish that dog dies”.


“I wish that dog would die,” I repeated.

“I think you are a bad person,” he said, smiling in doubt. And the endless conversation that eventually led me to a glorious defeat began.

“Look at that dog, he’s happy, he’s complete,” his winning argument, which battled against my sympathetic thought about how poor the dog was for not having to experience a life with four legs just like any other normal dogs, cynically matching it up to it to humans whose life have always been unfortunate because of stupid diseases that don’t really creep in to bunch of other people. I pointed out the agony behind the predestined things in human existence. For instance, while there are many people who can enjoy a clear sight, there are some those who suffer from total and partial blindness, deprived of the privilege of having to see the world the Ultimate Being built supposedly for everyone. Ultimately, I wonder why do some people have to live through so much misfortune while other people have to experience less of it?

“That dog is not sad, that dog is living happily with its owner. Look,” he reiterated, pointing towards the dog, indicating that you don’t really have to be fully complete to enjoy life. I knew then that he’s off to a righteous victory. I can even remember him saying blind people are not necessarily unlucky. They were even given the gift to feel this world better even without seeing it. Truly, he just raised a good point.


I was being pessimistic. If I were in my old self, I would go ‘awwww’ upon seeing the dog but no, I wished him dead because I don’t want him to experience further misery as he gets older, an idea I also apply to people. But you know, the guy whom I was talking to was kind of optimistic, uttering arguments against mine, speaking of happiness, love, and fullness out of incompleteness.

I knew he was right but I’m in pain. He figured out later on that I was. I couldn’t lie about how I feel for the dog or for the entirety of this reality. I knew he felt the sadness in between each word I was uttering.


And then he started talking about this kind of power you need to take hold of after having to lose yourself into a certain unfortunate event, for instance, having your heart broken because of an unsuccessful emotional investment with someone.

“It’s a power,” he declared. What he really meant was the power of having been able to move on, or of having to touchdown that moment where you can look at that person who crashed your heart into million pieces without falling apart any longer.

In two hours or more, I opened up to him. I told him my story as honest as possible and I could feel his willingness to hear me out. In return, he shared his to me. Basically, we went through the same thing, the only different is, he already have that power. Now, he could already look at his past love without feeling anything. That’s the power he was talking about. He’s already moved on that’s why he’s pointing out that I will eventually get to that moment too.

In essence, or in general, the point was you don’t really have to be complete in order to be happy, same principle goes through with physical or emotional disabilities, in animals or in humans. My past heartbreak clearly left a void in my life, a certain spot that needs to be filled up but doesn’t want to be filled up. A cliff reluctant to be explored, a deep scar carved by some distant memories, so distant yet you can still feel them dancing beneath your shadow. But this guy, whose name is Cristian, is optimistic that I will get through this phase soon, especially if I would start opening up my mind and my heart to possibilities. Betrayal and too much sadness are not the things that should stop you from moving forward, or let yourself sort of “charge it to experience”.








P.S. Cristian is a Chilean guy whom I met during an overseas coverage in Taiwan last week