I see way too deep
into future, like really deep, where I assume all the consequences of things
that are happening right now. What did I see when you broke the news that you
were accompanying me to my study place
even though your admission didn’t proceed? I saw this day; I felt a glimpse of
these aches that has left me, here, shattered, yet my fingers barely move just to
capture these chaotic emotions, for they aren’t worth leaving out like that.
What seemed an
enjoyable, frustrating and happy but short stay, was announced to end after a
fine morning jog that we had just finished and were having breakfast on that
bright Sunday morning. The showers from Saturday and Friday had left the ground
damp and when Sunday’s bright says hit, the ground seemed fresh, pleasing, like
after the aow-pashi that we do. Being quite brutal to the day’s perfection,
you, in a low tone, said the most loudest words possible, “I think I am going
home.” My reply, “So what.. your stay here is finally enough?” might have
sounded like I didn’t take it that hard, but boy if you had felt what hurricane
it caused inside me. And just like that, this melancholy shadow was formed which followed me until this moment, where it has now overtook me completely.
I, then, knew that
you were leaving but the uncertainty of when you were leaving was even worse that
the approach of the pain-shower that was about to be bestowed on me. But today,
what seemed quite not like a day that you’d finally throw down the gauntlet and
leave, you found company and you did. Abrupt, okay, but just as sudden; both
less lengthy torture and great instantaneous pain. Our chat from earlier this evening didn’t do no good to create a healthy mood for see off, and when I saw you
packing as I came down after dinner, I knew it was really happening and I made
my mind that there will be no good byes - and just like usual, you didn’t bother
as well; you left.
You left, and I
was holed again, that empty place regained its spot once again that makes me
feel incomplete from the inside. I tried to ignore it but the melancholic
feeling had already gone the damage. But the movie, The Florida Project, that I aimed to finish and give myself a consolation, its ending did just the
opposite: it added to my pain. When Mony runs and reaches the door of Jancy to
meet her one final time because some people are taking her away, it portrayed
the exact same scene that just happened with me, but here I, the remainder, was the one
crying, not you, the abandoner. Mony made a face so full of emotions for
seconds that seemed like an eternity and broke into heavy words, then choked,
and finally into pure, heart-driven cries, that it caused to me repeat after what she just did. “You are my best friend and this is the last time I am
seeing you. I can’ talk . . .” she said, and cried, cried like a baby that she
was, from a pure heart. Though Jancy grabbed her hand and they both ran away to
Disney Land, you weren’t there to take mine; you were gone.
I went into the
bathroom which was dark due to electrical issues, and I texted a friend about your
departure. That was it, it brought the emotions to surface, it always does;
sharing your feelings with someone let them rise and pour right through you. And then came
just the right song, for this right situation, with the light amount of light
(very dim and dark), that I would repeatedly play for the next 30 or so minutes –
and cry. As I cried, I cursed you just like the song told me to, and I cursed
you again and again because the song was on repeat. I was crying unstoppably,
sobbing really heavily, blood all gathered up in my head, eyes sour, nose obese. There I was crying for you and I texted you, “Why do you come and go as you
please? Don’t I have any right over you?”. Then I wrote again, “It is not weak
of me to miss you, feel for you… it is not weak even if I can’t stop my crying
over you. It’s not!” But what meanings would these words hold for you if you read them
through a screen and the next moment press the lock button and put the phone
back into your pocket and resume whatever you were thinking, and think
something out of whatever you were thinking before – and my words would get
lost amongst those and die.
But as the hot
showers poured over me, I looked at my blurry image on the foggy mirror and,
deep down, asked God to watch this, and take notice; watch this and know that
it is for real. Not even knowing what am I trying to prove here, I ached more
because you weren’t there to see me this helpless, to witness all what I have
been telling you and know that it was for real. And the absence of you from the
painful show I was putting made me feel so defeated. I felt so small, first in
the pain that I was feeling, later, in knowing that you wouldn’t know this
ever, at all. Nevertheless, I felt it myself, and God felt it through me. I
knew I felt it because I could distinguish my tears from the hot waters that
were flowing through my hair and over my nose and cheeks; I felt that my tears
my were more warmer, I felt they carried more weight to them over the normal
water, I felt the roundness of my tears over the shapelessly flowing water, I
felt them and so did God. I don’t know why am I excusing God into my such
troublesome matters, but I guess I know He would keep a record of this and,
maybe, someday might let you know of my feelings for you.