Monday, June 22, 2009

It's Not About That


Author's note: I wrote this when I was in 4th year high school and I have just recently recovered this from the clutter of old files on my USB...

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My memories flash to the times when you were always annoyed about me, talking about the slightest change I had done to my once thick hair. The times when you called me stupid and childish…

Last summer, I had my hair cut short. It was shoulder length that it was so difficult in putting it into a tight bun during military formations in my school. You never noticed my short hair because you were too busy to see me that day. One week later, our first meeting after a month, I asked you if you had seen something different about my hair.

You said you didn’t.

I was disappointed…

But despite that, I didn’t tell you that I was angry with you because of the stupid “you didn’t even see my new hair cut” thing. I thought that was the part of me that was too immature enough to freak out if you wouldn’t notice the change in my hairstyle, anyway.

After that meeting, after that day when you said you didn’t notice anything about my hair, I didn’t know that many days (even weeks) would pass- without you to see me.

I had my hair grow back to its original length. Just when I conditioned and told my self that I didn’t have any boyfriend at all, you called me and asked me if I was free on that certain day in mid June. We saw each other again, and after long walks in the park while having an ice cream treat, I asked you if you had noticed that my hair was much longer than the last time.

You just shrugged your shoulders off and told me I was acting foolish again. I was acting like a child while telling you for the hundredth time about my stupid hair.

The martyr side of me never mind nor cared about what you think about my hair, but the “child-like” (as you have said) side suddenly became irritated and I told you that it’s plainly not about that; it’s not about my “stupid” hair at all. Then, I walked away from you; wiping away all my tears as I turned my back from you.

Now, three months later, you are always staying with me. Is it because I was suddenly rushed to the hospital with my constant nosebleed and these violet bruises I have on my body? Is it because I have lost all my hair with my constant chemotherapy? Why are you treating me like this? Is it because I have lost the sleek and shiny, black hair that I used to have, having ugly regions in my head that has been hairless?


After you called me stupid and childish…

When in fact you were the one stupid enough to not understand what I mean. You didn’t realize that that was my way of telling you that you don’t even get in touch with me, that you don’t even realize subtle changes about me…

Obvious changes like the growth of my hair…

Because you were never with me, anyway...

And now your eyes fill with tears to see me like this? Oh! How I wished we could just turn back time and you would send me those balloons and chocolates with a grin on your face. Not with looks of… pity.

Please don’t do that… Now you could always notice changes about me because you are now staying with me beside my hospital bed. Now you could see the fast shedding of my hair from my head. At least you’ll see the change, at least you’re here with me, but I don’t know if I’m going to stay with you any longer…

….because I’m in so much pain.

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