Rain. I never thought there would come a day that I would not mind being drenched by it. As I walked on the slippery steps at the pavement, I brought myself instinctively home- managing to survive with at least five cars almost running over me. Tonight, I'm in my own world; a world where red lights, fast vehicles and big puddles of water do not exist. The dreaded pickpockets are not even on my head where they usually do. This cold rainy night, I never expected to see you again.
Heartbroken. You looked at me and I was reminded of how you broke my heart when you ended your promise. You smiled at me as if nothing happened, and I wasn't able to understand why I still love you after going through the last goodbye. Why can't I understand how my heart is still aching after those years you've left me for good? I asked myself this as I cried the bitterest tears.
Wish. If I had one, I would have wanted not to love someone like you. As my heart is broken, my head is in tatters not knowing why I loved you... still love you. If I could only stop my heart from choosing you, I would have walked away without the painful lump on my throat. Is it really love that can't be explained? or is it just the stubborn idea of still setting my hopes up?
Dispute. My heart and my mind is contradicting with each other. If I could forget you, I would have already done it. But the screaming inside of me still continue to make my body shiver. My silent tears continue flowing, blending-in with the raindrops on my cheek as I look up the dark sky...
~anamellie, 051210
Author’s Note: “The Loser” (see previous post) from another POV.
Showing posts with label prose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prose. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Loser
I could never forget the day you stood under the rain. I saw you staring up the sky and almost never blinking. I grabbed your hand but you pushed me aside as easily as if I were a child. I looked at your rain-washed face but still knew you were crying. I wanted to comfort you, as my mind thought "I told you so," but thought better than even hugging you. So I opened my umbrella and sheltered you from the big droplets of water. My brain chided "I hate her! I hate her!"
She gave you her final words and tainted them with lies. She promised to love you when she accepted your heart. It was all a sham. She left you confused and weak and falling down the sewers. She tricked you with the silly word "forever" and sweet-coated her "I love you's".
For a certain, I feel like an assassin ready to hunt her down. I want to rage like a lion just to get even with the girl who hurt you. But when I look at your eyes still full of love for her, I almost restrain myself- even control my anger.
Almost. Because there's still a part of me that wants to give you a serious blow in the head or even a punch on the stomach! Maybe you would be able to know how you have been acting lately- stupid, perhaps even a loser. She was not worth your tears, she was not even worth your time. A girl like her is someone to be avoided "forever". There! I feel for the word in a way she had never gave importance to it.
When you fake your smile, I still feel your pain because it seems as if I'm the only person who knows the agony you are bearing. You have no idea how much I want to hug you every time someone mentions her name. You don't really have a clue how much I wish I could take away the hurt caused by her. And during those many nights, I cried for you, hoping that you have not left to her the pieces of your broken heart. This girl (I) would have wanted to mend it for you...
Still, you are staring at the distance, on the farthest reaches of your world. A world where I doubt I even exist. You are with her, dwelling in your memories of the past, wishing on stars, singing happy tunes... while I'm here, giving you the kind of love I think you deserve.
Who is really the loser? Her, For breaking your heart as she broke her promise? You, For clinging on to a nonexistent string of hope? Or me, For fixing your broken heart that, in the first place, is still in her possession?
In the game of parity, I will never win against her. You will never learn to love me genuinely. You are stuck in the past, gazing at someone far greater than I am. I am here. You are there. And when you glance at me, I never fail to see how those fragments of your heart will never be mine.
Now there's no question about it. I am the loser... and it's a matter of time I accept it and get over you.
~anamellie, 051010
Author's Note: Just another fictional prose.
She gave you her final words and tainted them with lies. She promised to love you when she accepted your heart. It was all a sham. She left you confused and weak and falling down the sewers. She tricked you with the silly word "forever" and sweet-coated her "I love you's".
For a certain, I feel like an assassin ready to hunt her down. I want to rage like a lion just to get even with the girl who hurt you. But when I look at your eyes still full of love for her, I almost restrain myself- even control my anger.
Almost. Because there's still a part of me that wants to give you a serious blow in the head or even a punch on the stomach! Maybe you would be able to know how you have been acting lately- stupid, perhaps even a loser. She was not worth your tears, she was not even worth your time. A girl like her is someone to be avoided "forever". There! I feel for the word in a way she had never gave importance to it.
When you fake your smile, I still feel your pain because it seems as if I'm the only person who knows the agony you are bearing. You have no idea how much I want to hug you every time someone mentions her name. You don't really have a clue how much I wish I could take away the hurt caused by her. And during those many nights, I cried for you, hoping that you have not left to her the pieces of your broken heart. This girl (I) would have wanted to mend it for you...
Still, you are staring at the distance, on the farthest reaches of your world. A world where I doubt I even exist. You are with her, dwelling in your memories of the past, wishing on stars, singing happy tunes... while I'm here, giving you the kind of love I think you deserve.
Who is really the loser? Her, For breaking your heart as she broke her promise? You, For clinging on to a nonexistent string of hope? Or me, For fixing your broken heart that, in the first place, is still in her possession?
In the game of parity, I will never win against her. You will never learn to love me genuinely. You are stuck in the past, gazing at someone far greater than I am. I am here. You are there. And when you glance at me, I never fail to see how those fragments of your heart will never be mine.
Now there's no question about it. I am the loser... and it's a matter of time I accept it and get over you.
~anamellie, 051010
Author's Note: Just another fictional prose.
Monday, June 22, 2009
It's Not About That
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.
~anamellie, 062209
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.
~anamellie, 062209
AN: Fictional imaginings of a teenage girl after watching a movie with a protagonist battling cancer. :(
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Boy
When I was a child, I often dream of a boy. He's the person who would laugh at my silliness, tease me with his eyes rolling heavenward as I stomp my right foot on the ground during my girly tantrums, cheer me up with anecdotes during my gloomy days, walk me home after school and wrap his arms around my waist as he suggests we run through the hills and head through the meadows- to lie down on the grass and gaze up at the silver stars as we dream of traveling through places we've never been before. We'll hold each other close as we listen to the soft music created by the wind as they rush through the trees' branches; and the melody of hundreds of crickets during summertime.
On that meadow, on top of that same hill, he'll whisper to me those sweet words declaring his love for me and I'll tell him how much he means to me as well as I wish for that moment not to end.
On that meadow, we'll both think of building our castle- the house where we would raise our children and shower them with overflowing love we can't just keep between the two of us.
Once upon a time, I closed my eyes and wished for that moment to come and eventually find myself with this person I'll stay in love forever, and love him with the kind of love I fantasized as a child- the kind of love that made me remember the time I look up with admiration and envy at the woman who raised me... as I dream of becoming like her: an in love, happy, contented, and well-loved princess who is lucky to find her partner. I often wonder when and where I would meet my own prince...
It is a fantasy... rather, a kind of love I still want right now- neither puppy love nor platonic, not a love that would fade through time... but a love that is true and unconditional...
A universal love that would make someone's chest burst when not shared with someone whom she feels equates the world.
It's simple right?
Wrong.
Because, if love is simple and universal, why is it one of the hardest things to find?
If love is easily attainable, why is this prince- this boy unwilling to go to the ends of the world with me?
Because the truth is, I once found him. Or I thought I did. Only that he was nothing like the fantasies I had. He wasn't there to search for falling stars, to talk of dreams, and chase butterflies. He was never there to wipe the tears caused by terribly missing him. Most of the time, he isn't around even to hold my hand... but I loved him still. I loved him despite of his imperfections.
The real world, I realized, did not focus on wonderful metaphors and allegories. It all contained ironies. Ironic, that my simple dreams were not realized. Ironic, that I could not hold him when I most needed him. Ironic, that despite all he has done, I still found myself loving him, and ironic... that once I thought I found my 'prince', he turned out to be the person who walked out on me- the boy I loved didn't love me back.
For years, I hoped we would be together again. I was stupid and desperate and hopeful that there would always be a sweet time to wait for him to come back to me. I did that. Days, weeks, months, years... all I did was wait- wait for him to find me while I find a part of myself longing to wake up from this impossible dream and continue living without expecting this boy to return. "No, it's wrong to assume, it's wrong to expect... it's wrong to wait", my brain often chided.
Especially if this boy once made his way to me and decided to walk away in the end.
And my fantasies are all ruined. Boy, you're just a dream. Is... was... and always will be.
On that meadow, on top of that same hill, he'll whisper to me those sweet words declaring his love for me and I'll tell him how much he means to me as well as I wish for that moment not to end.
On that meadow, we'll both think of building our castle- the house where we would raise our children and shower them with overflowing love we can't just keep between the two of us.
Once upon a time, I closed my eyes and wished for that moment to come and eventually find myself with this person I'll stay in love forever, and love him with the kind of love I fantasized as a child- the kind of love that made me remember the time I look up with admiration and envy at the woman who raised me... as I dream of becoming like her: an in love, happy, contented, and well-loved princess who is lucky to find her partner. I often wonder when and where I would meet my own prince...
It is a fantasy... rather, a kind of love I still want right now- neither puppy love nor platonic, not a love that would fade through time... but a love that is true and unconditional...
A universal love that would make someone's chest burst when not shared with someone whom she feels equates the world.
It's simple right?
Wrong.
Because, if love is simple and universal, why is it one of the hardest things to find?
If love is easily attainable, why is this prince- this boy unwilling to go to the ends of the world with me?
Because the truth is, I once found him. Or I thought I did. Only that he was nothing like the fantasies I had. He wasn't there to search for falling stars, to talk of dreams, and chase butterflies. He was never there to wipe the tears caused by terribly missing him. Most of the time, he isn't around even to hold my hand... but I loved him still. I loved him despite of his imperfections.
The real world, I realized, did not focus on wonderful metaphors and allegories. It all contained ironies. Ironic, that my simple dreams were not realized. Ironic, that I could not hold him when I most needed him. Ironic, that despite all he has done, I still found myself loving him, and ironic... that once I thought I found my 'prince', he turned out to be the person who walked out on me- the boy I loved didn't love me back.
For years, I hoped we would be together again. I was stupid and desperate and hopeful that there would always be a sweet time to wait for him to come back to me. I did that. Days, weeks, months, years... all I did was wait- wait for him to find me while I find a part of myself longing to wake up from this impossible dream and continue living without expecting this boy to return. "No, it's wrong to assume, it's wrong to expect... it's wrong to wait", my brain often chided.
Especially if this boy once made his way to me and decided to walk away in the end.
And my fantasies are all ruined. Boy, you're just a dream. Is... was... and always will be.
~anamellie, 060309
Monday, May 4, 2009
Ten Candles
The sound of my cellphone ringing wakes me up.
"Hello," I say, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
No one replies. I just hear the background of the screaming of the children which annoys me so much.
I end the call. I shiver... as I realize what's happening.
The cellphone rings as I place it on the bedside table...
and rings...
I do not pick it up.
It stops ringing. I sigh. Relief washes over me.
I stand up and go towards the shower.
My cellphone beeps.
Twice!
Two messages.
I slowly approach the table and check.
This is Mom... Happy birthday, my daughter, it says.
Mom! It isn't my birthday today! I want to shout.
I read the other message:
Please... forgive me, I love you. It came from the same number.
I couldn't ignore it, I have to tell her she's got the wrong number.
I stare into space.
What do I do?
I reply, Thanks ma! And I forgive you! I love you too...
I'm so happy, I did not hurt her. Again.
I shower and change, I run downstairs and breathe.
Here goes... I inhale a lungful of air.
The children plays around the kitchen, chasing after each other.
My mother smiles at me, her hands outstretched as she holds the cake...
I want to cry.
Ten candles. The usual.
She sings Happy Birthday with her beautiful voice.
Just like yesterday.
And tomorrow.
I blow the candles, wishes there are eleven, or twelve, or... eighteen- my real age...
And my tears starts flowing.
~anamellie, 050409
AN: First of all, I want to say that this is entirely FICTIONAL. This is one of the stories wherein I have no idea what happens as I start. The storyline just pops into my head as I write the words... and the idea about '50 first dates' struck me. But this is originally inspired by the anonymous text message I received which greeted me a 'happy birthday’ (Even though it isn’t my birthday) I concentrated from there and end up with this.
"Hello," I say, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
No one replies. I just hear the background of the screaming of the children which annoys me so much.
I end the call. I shiver... as I realize what's happening.
The cellphone rings as I place it on the bedside table...
and rings...
I do not pick it up.
It stops ringing. I sigh. Relief washes over me.
I stand up and go towards the shower.
My cellphone beeps.
Twice!
Two messages.
I slowly approach the table and check.
This is Mom... Happy birthday, my daughter, it says.
Mom! It isn't my birthday today! I want to shout.
I read the other message:
Please... forgive me, I love you. It came from the same number.
I couldn't ignore it, I have to tell her she's got the wrong number.
I stare into space.
What do I do?
I reply, Thanks ma! And I forgive you! I love you too...
I'm so happy, I did not hurt her. Again.
I shower and change, I run downstairs and breathe.
Here goes... I inhale a lungful of air.
The children plays around the kitchen, chasing after each other.
My mother smiles at me, her hands outstretched as she holds the cake...
I want to cry.
Ten candles. The usual.
She sings Happy Birthday with her beautiful voice.
Just like yesterday.
And tomorrow.
I blow the candles, wishes there are eleven, or twelve, or... eighteen- my real age...
And my tears starts flowing.
~anamellie, 050409
AN: First of all, I want to say that this is entirely FICTIONAL. This is one of the stories wherein I have no idea what happens as I start. The storyline just pops into my head as I write the words... and the idea about '50 first dates' struck me. But this is originally inspired by the anonymous text message I received which greeted me a 'happy birthday’ (Even though it isn’t my birthday) I concentrated from there and end up with this.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Three Roses and a Kiss
My boyfriend left me two years ago without explanation as to why he broke up with me. We were together for three years and nowadays, three years is a really, really long time to be in a relationship. If you ask me if losing him was painful, I honestly say that it was. But I’m not about crying barrels of tears because of mourning about that loss; anyway, it would be a complete waste of time if I did. I don’t completely hate Valentine’s Day but I don’t expect myself to like it either.
Tonight, the Eve of Valentines, I felt more alone than ever. Well, at least there’s someone to confide with me and to spend the night even if to me it seemed Halloween- my younger sister.
She was pacing at the living room where the two of us usually bonded. I was lucky that I had Sharina for the last seventeen years of my existence. I was twenty-one, older than her by four years. It was completely relieving to know that she really cared.
Sharina looked uneasy as she stared at the clock which showed exactly seven.
The doorbell rang and she begged me to open the door as she hurriedly sat on the sofa and pretended to open a magazine.
I smiled at Sharina and answered the door. I did not expect a small boy which looked a little older than nine. He had brown hair, and freckly face, and he looked neat.
He was wearing a polo shirt, a suspender and matching black slacks. On his other hand was a bowler hat he put on his chest as he greeted me.
“Are you Miss Sabina? Someone wants to give this to you,” he said with a cute voice and a sweet smile.
“Who, Why-" I tried to ask him as I accepted the flower, but he just shook his head and ran away as quickly as he can, ruining the beautiful charade.
I glanced at Sharina. She raised both her shoulders. She was just as puzzled as I am.
The stem of the flower had an attached note which said, “Sorry.” I thought to myself that the person who gave it must have been crazy for he asked to be forgiven, yet he didn’t tell me who he was. But I had a feeling that the person assumed that I knew him.
Anyhow, I stayed at the door, admiring the rose when another boy (with the same “uniform” as the first one) came, holding another rose. A white one. As soon as the rose reached my grip, he ran as fast as he can.
The stem held another message.
“Forgive me”.
The two annoying words displayed in my mind as if I was seeing it with blinking twinkle lights. The flowers must have come from the same person.
I shut (more like slammed) the door. I sat on the living room sofa, and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. There was another door bell and I ignored it. Sharina, sitting just opposite me, managed to walk and get the door. When she came back, she held a note. She handed it to me as she giggled.
“No Valentine… huh!” she teased. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the note from her.
“What’s this?” Someone must have been playing a prank on me, knowing that I was lonely and without a date tomorrow for Valentines. That was it.
I opened the envelope which held my name.
The note contained two lines:
Two for each year I’ve been away…
One for the day, we’ll meet again.
I stared at the note. Now, I felt my suspicions were correct. After leaving me without an explanation, he was going to reconcile with me and our relationship would be okay as if nothing happened.
The day we’ll meet again. What does he mean?
I placed the two roses on a vase I positioned carefully on a table inside the room. (I couldn’t refuse the lovely flowers.) I was still thinking why he gave them, and I was hyperventilating in the living room, not knowing if I’ll cry or not.
I often let my mind rule over my heart. My heart says I want him back, and let’s just say, my mind wouldn’t want to. Oftentimes, I feel like I’m following a script called what I should feel when this happens and the director was my mind.
The door bell rang for the third time. Again, I did not answer it, but my sister hurried to open it anyway.
She barked at the person outside, “What do you want?”
I turned to look at the person. It was Jeremy, my sister’s best-friend-turned-worst-enemy just because he tried to tell his real feelings towards her, and by the looks of it, hasn’t given up on her yet.
“Sharina, I-“
“I told you, Jeremy. I don’t want to be more than what we are. If you don’t want that, then get lost.”
And she slammed the door and took the seat opposite me.
“Strike three,” she whispered and a grin was forming on her face.
“You know what? I think you should give him a chance,” I told her, sympathizing with the boy I knew so much by the number of hours he has been with my sister.
“Impossible!” she exclaimed, as she smiled at me.
“What?”
“That my only sister would think the same.”
“What?” I said again, completely at a loss.
She just ignored me.
The door bell rang for the fourth -and I hoped the last- time tonight. My sister whirled toward the door and I now understood what she meant.
Of course, she was just giving Jeremy some test. She loves him too and she wants to prove how serious he was by rejecting him… like tonight… and by how many times he would try to win her again. But I just hoped Jeremy wouldn’t give up yet. It might just hurt my sister.
I looked at Sharina and her face said that I was right.
She cheerfully opened the door but her expression changed when she realized it was not Jeremy.
Not Jeremy but…
“Taylor,” I gasped.
“Taylor! Come in! Come in!” my sister shrieked. I never saw her look that excited for days. Not even with the I hate you Jeremy pretenses.
Taylor took a step and was “in” when I shouted, “Stay where you are!”
The sound of my voice made him back away.
My sister was shocked. She pulled my right hand which was useless because I felt my two feet dragging me towards the door anyway.
When I was officially “out”, Sharina closed the door and locked me outside with the man whom I’m not so sure what my heart feels for.
But I’m quite sure with the mind thing. It kept telling me that I should hate Taylor because he hurt me when he left me two years ago, without explanation, and without warning.
I don’t even know if he still treated me as his girlfriend while he was away. For all we know, he may have hundreds of girls while I was left here thinking about him. Though, I don’t love him anymore. To me, he is an ex-boyfriend. A past I don’t want to relive. My mind says so.
“One for the day we meet again,” Taylor quoted, removing me from my trance as he handed me a large, long-stemmed, red, Californian rose.
He smiled his signature smile and his dimples showed on his right cheek. I stared at the floor mat just so he couldn’t see my face redden. I have a feeling it was as red as it was warm.
He held my chin with his hand and looked at me with his smoky green eyes placed on a perfectly chiseled face which took my breath away…
Stop!
I’m not supposed to tell that.
“So it was really you, wasn’t it? What made you come back?” I casually asked him, with a streak of sarcasm in my voice.
“Ouch,” he said as he put his balled fist on his chest. He was teasing and it wasn’t funny to me.
“Or better yet, why did you leave?” I wanted this question to be answered first.
“What kind of a lunatic man-“
“Oh, I don’t know. Men like you, perhaps?” I interrupted.
“Yes, I admit I was crazy, by leaving you. But please, let me explain,” he said with pleading eyes.
I remained quiet.
“You know I have amnesia that I couldn’t remember who I was or what I did before I met you. But that night- the night I left, everything came back to me-“
“So that’s why, you seemed different that night. You weren’t my Taylor,” I interrupted again.
“No, I didn’t forget you. I didn’t forget me. But some other memory tampered with my memories of you. I felt confused. I didn’t know if you really existed. I thought you were just a dream. But something told me that you’re more than that. But I didn’t want to hurt you when the time comes I wouldn’t recognize you anymore. It’s coming, Sabina, my condition could get worse. I left without explaining. I was selfish. I’m sorry.
“I know I belong here, with you. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for leaving like that, but I kept battling with myself because part of me still believed that you should live a normal life. I want you to forget me because I don’t know how stable this mind would be. Dream or not, someday, soon, this mind may not recognize you any longer, though my heart really battled to never forget you.” I felt the pain in his voice as it trailed away.
“You want me to forget you? How would forgetting you make me live a normal life?” I felt a lump on my throat.
“Can’t you understand? I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to let me remember time and again that I should love you. I want you to love and be loved in return, normally. I love you, Sabina, this” –he clutched at his heart- “wouldn’t forget that, but I don’t know until when my mind would recognize you. I came here selfishly Sabina because I want to see you, even if it’s the last time I would. Forgive me. Forgive me for this.”
And he crushed his lips against mine. I wanted to pull away from him but I couldn’t. Instead, I just kissed him back as I felt his soft lips I missed for a very long time.
It felt like forever before our lips parted.
I looked at Taylor and cried. “I need you forever, even if it would end today. I forgive you, Taylor. I love you!” I embraced him tightly as tears continued to well down my cheeks.
A realization came over me. I let my mind rule over my heart, a principle I’ve quite developed. Yet here he is in front of me, trying to fight his mind with his heart. - A heart that says that there’s no one else but me. Now I know, that my heart also screamed for him.
“I didn’t know some romantics still existed today,” I smiled at him as I admired the rose. It was the third rose tonight.
We were about to kiss again when Jeremy appeared.
“Oops… Sorry,” he apologized, seeing what his wrong timing had caused.
“Don’t be. Sharina’s inside the house,” I winked at him as I pressed the door bell button, knowing that four hearts would never be the same tonight, at the eve of Valentine’s Day.
~anamellie, 012709
Tonight, the Eve of Valentines, I felt more alone than ever. Well, at least there’s someone to confide with me and to spend the night even if to me it seemed Halloween- my younger sister.
She was pacing at the living room where the two of us usually bonded. I was lucky that I had Sharina for the last seventeen years of my existence. I was twenty-one, older than her by four years. It was completely relieving to know that she really cared.
Sharina looked uneasy as she stared at the clock which showed exactly seven.
The doorbell rang and she begged me to open the door as she hurriedly sat on the sofa and pretended to open a magazine.
I smiled at Sharina and answered the door. I did not expect a small boy which looked a little older than nine. He had brown hair, and freckly face, and he looked neat.
He was wearing a polo shirt, a suspender and matching black slacks. On his other hand was a bowler hat he put on his chest as he greeted me.
“Are you Miss Sabina? Someone wants to give this to you,” he said with a cute voice and a sweet smile.
“Who, Why-" I tried to ask him as I accepted the flower, but he just shook his head and ran away as quickly as he can, ruining the beautiful charade.
I glanced at Sharina. She raised both her shoulders. She was just as puzzled as I am.
The stem of the flower had an attached note which said, “Sorry.” I thought to myself that the person who gave it must have been crazy for he asked to be forgiven, yet he didn’t tell me who he was. But I had a feeling that the person assumed that I knew him.
Anyhow, I stayed at the door, admiring the rose when another boy (with the same “uniform” as the first one) came, holding another rose. A white one. As soon as the rose reached my grip, he ran as fast as he can.
The stem held another message.
“Forgive me”.
The two annoying words displayed in my mind as if I was seeing it with blinking twinkle lights. The flowers must have come from the same person.
I shut (more like slammed) the door. I sat on the living room sofa, and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. There was another door bell and I ignored it. Sharina, sitting just opposite me, managed to walk and get the door. When she came back, she held a note. She handed it to me as she giggled.
“No Valentine… huh!” she teased. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the note from her.
“What’s this?” Someone must have been playing a prank on me, knowing that I was lonely and without a date tomorrow for Valentines. That was it.
I opened the envelope which held my name.
The note contained two lines:
Two for each year I’ve been away…
One for the day, we’ll meet again.
I stared at the note. Now, I felt my suspicions were correct. After leaving me without an explanation, he was going to reconcile with me and our relationship would be okay as if nothing happened.
The day we’ll meet again. What does he mean?
I placed the two roses on a vase I positioned carefully on a table inside the room. (I couldn’t refuse the lovely flowers.) I was still thinking why he gave them, and I was hyperventilating in the living room, not knowing if I’ll cry or not.
I often let my mind rule over my heart. My heart says I want him back, and let’s just say, my mind wouldn’t want to. Oftentimes, I feel like I’m following a script called what I should feel when this happens and the director was my mind.
The door bell rang for the third time. Again, I did not answer it, but my sister hurried to open it anyway.
She barked at the person outside, “What do you want?”
I turned to look at the person. It was Jeremy, my sister’s best-friend-turned-worst-enemy just because he tried to tell his real feelings towards her, and by the looks of it, hasn’t given up on her yet.
“Sharina, I-“
“I told you, Jeremy. I don’t want to be more than what we are. If you don’t want that, then get lost.”
And she slammed the door and took the seat opposite me.
“Strike three,” she whispered and a grin was forming on her face.
“You know what? I think you should give him a chance,” I told her, sympathizing with the boy I knew so much by the number of hours he has been with my sister.
“Impossible!” she exclaimed, as she smiled at me.
“What?”
“That my only sister would think the same.”
“What?” I said again, completely at a loss.
She just ignored me.
The door bell rang for the fourth -and I hoped the last- time tonight. My sister whirled toward the door and I now understood what she meant.
Of course, she was just giving Jeremy some test. She loves him too and she wants to prove how serious he was by rejecting him… like tonight… and by how many times he would try to win her again. But I just hoped Jeremy wouldn’t give up yet. It might just hurt my sister.
I looked at Sharina and her face said that I was right.
She cheerfully opened the door but her expression changed when she realized it was not Jeremy.
Not Jeremy but…
“Taylor,” I gasped.
“Taylor! Come in! Come in!” my sister shrieked. I never saw her look that excited for days. Not even with the I hate you Jeremy pretenses.
Taylor took a step and was “in” when I shouted, “Stay where you are!”
The sound of my voice made him back away.
My sister was shocked. She pulled my right hand which was useless because I felt my two feet dragging me towards the door anyway.
When I was officially “out”, Sharina closed the door and locked me outside with the man whom I’m not so sure what my heart feels for.
But I’m quite sure with the mind thing. It kept telling me that I should hate Taylor because he hurt me when he left me two years ago, without explanation, and without warning.
I don’t even know if he still treated me as his girlfriend while he was away. For all we know, he may have hundreds of girls while I was left here thinking about him. Though, I don’t love him anymore. To me, he is an ex-boyfriend. A past I don’t want to relive. My mind says so.
“One for the day we meet again,” Taylor quoted, removing me from my trance as he handed me a large, long-stemmed, red, Californian rose.
He smiled his signature smile and his dimples showed on his right cheek. I stared at the floor mat just so he couldn’t see my face redden. I have a feeling it was as red as it was warm.
He held my chin with his hand and looked at me with his smoky green eyes placed on a perfectly chiseled face which took my breath away…
Stop!
I’m not supposed to tell that.
“So it was really you, wasn’t it? What made you come back?” I casually asked him, with a streak of sarcasm in my voice.
“Ouch,” he said as he put his balled fist on his chest. He was teasing and it wasn’t funny to me.
“Or better yet, why did you leave?” I wanted this question to be answered first.
“What kind of a lunatic man-“
“Oh, I don’t know. Men like you, perhaps?” I interrupted.
“Yes, I admit I was crazy, by leaving you. But please, let me explain,” he said with pleading eyes.
I remained quiet.
“You know I have amnesia that I couldn’t remember who I was or what I did before I met you. But that night- the night I left, everything came back to me-“
“So that’s why, you seemed different that night. You weren’t my Taylor,” I interrupted again.
“No, I didn’t forget you. I didn’t forget me. But some other memory tampered with my memories of you. I felt confused. I didn’t know if you really existed. I thought you were just a dream. But something told me that you’re more than that. But I didn’t want to hurt you when the time comes I wouldn’t recognize you anymore. It’s coming, Sabina, my condition could get worse. I left without explaining. I was selfish. I’m sorry.
“I know I belong here, with you. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for leaving like that, but I kept battling with myself because part of me still believed that you should live a normal life. I want you to forget me because I don’t know how stable this mind would be. Dream or not, someday, soon, this mind may not recognize you any longer, though my heart really battled to never forget you.” I felt the pain in his voice as it trailed away.
“You want me to forget you? How would forgetting you make me live a normal life?” I felt a lump on my throat.
“Can’t you understand? I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to let me remember time and again that I should love you. I want you to love and be loved in return, normally. I love you, Sabina, this” –he clutched at his heart- “wouldn’t forget that, but I don’t know until when my mind would recognize you. I came here selfishly Sabina because I want to see you, even if it’s the last time I would. Forgive me. Forgive me for this.”
And he crushed his lips against mine. I wanted to pull away from him but I couldn’t. Instead, I just kissed him back as I felt his soft lips I missed for a very long time.
It felt like forever before our lips parted.
I looked at Taylor and cried. “I need you forever, even if it would end today. I forgive you, Taylor. I love you!” I embraced him tightly as tears continued to well down my cheeks.
A realization came over me. I let my mind rule over my heart, a principle I’ve quite developed. Yet here he is in front of me, trying to fight his mind with his heart. - A heart that says that there’s no one else but me. Now I know, that my heart also screamed for him.
“I didn’t know some romantics still existed today,” I smiled at him as I admired the rose. It was the third rose tonight.
We were about to kiss again when Jeremy appeared.
“Oops… Sorry,” he apologized, seeing what his wrong timing had caused.
“Don’t be. Sharina’s inside the house,” I winked at him as I pressed the door bell button, knowing that four hearts would never be the same tonight, at the eve of Valentine’s Day.
~anamellie, 012709
Saturday, October 25, 2008
A Shadow of His Past
Even though I keep missing him this much, even though I keep thinking about him a lot, I know our hearts would never be an inch closer to each other, because I know that even though he's seeing me, and he really makes me feel that I'm important to him, I could tell that somewhere in the distance, beyond the warmness of his glance, he's still seeing someone far greater than I am.
I know, I cannot be compared with this person, I'll just end up the loser in the game of parity. It's like putting square pegs for round holes. It's stupid and unimaginable to compare myself with someone beyond my reach, that even if I stood at the top of the highest mountain, I still would not be able to touch the clouds.
It's really agonizing to think about him, to know that even if I try to forget him through my deep sleep, I would still be haunted by our memories... or at least, my memories, with him.
I often cry, and with the tears came another set of familiar pain and loneliness, covering me with doubt and hopelessness. Everything just died, what I thought our love was, his sweet forever's, everything!
In the end, I realized that he never loved me anyway, that all he sees when he looks at me is just the memory of the girl he once loved, that he's not ready to let go.
I was just a substitute for someone he had lost in the past, someone he greatly wants to hold and keep. I was just that blueprint, existing only for that sole purpose in his life. I was just that shadow of his past, someone who would patch his broken heart but never to mend it, for the pieces had been left with the girl he still loves, and it will be forever hers...
~anamellie, 102508
I know, I cannot be compared with this person, I'll just end up the loser in the game of parity. It's like putting square pegs for round holes. It's stupid and unimaginable to compare myself with someone beyond my reach, that even if I stood at the top of the highest mountain, I still would not be able to touch the clouds.
It's really agonizing to think about him, to know that even if I try to forget him through my deep sleep, I would still be haunted by our memories... or at least, my memories, with him.
I often cry, and with the tears came another set of familiar pain and loneliness, covering me with doubt and hopelessness. Everything just died, what I thought our love was, his sweet forever's, everything!
In the end, I realized that he never loved me anyway, that all he sees when he looks at me is just the memory of the girl he once loved, that he's not ready to let go.
I was just a substitute for someone he had lost in the past, someone he greatly wants to hold and keep. I was just that blueprint, existing only for that sole purpose in his life. I was just that shadow of his past, someone who would patch his broken heart but never to mend it, for the pieces had been left with the girl he still loves, and it will be forever hers...
~anamellie, 102508
Friday, October 17, 2008
The Feeling I want You to Feel
Memories… are they the reason why I have this stinging feeling inside my throat? Why am I holding back this possible downpour of tears that would wet my pillow? I’m not supposed to feel this. It is completely unfair for me to cry knowing that hundreds of miles away, you have no care in the world about how I am feeling right now. You may be celebrating that at last, at long last, you are free from me, the annoying and nagging thing you’ve grown to hate…
Because I was (at one time) loved by you, I could tell. But what happened after that, I don’t know. It’s as if I’ve woken from my most wonderful dream and seeing reality for the first time- a bittersweet reality.
To escape from it, I often dwell on dreams, on what-ifs, on wishes, on memories…
But to tell you the truth, there’s more to it than just memories.
I just want you to feel how painful it is to look back at the time our growing love declined. Though, looking back on good times was much agonizing than that.
I hope that you’ve figured it out by this time. But in case you wouldn’t be able to… love. This is the feeling I want you to feel towards me as it is also the feeling I’m feeling for you right now. Yes, it never changed.
~anamellie, 101708
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Twin soul
That’s because I knew that it would be completely different without him. I knew from the start that it’s really impossible to be with him forever because we have our separate lives to live. We have different paths to take. Imagining him with me has been too impossible to form even with the dreamiest state of my mind.
It was as if I were standing on the shore and longing to see another island in the distance, but seeing only the horizon stretching into infinity. It was like being stranded on a deserted island waiting for nothing, and knowing that it would be like that until I die from the heat and lost of water to drink.
I lost hope that day, as I stared at him while controlling my tears from falling. I knew that that was a real goodbye. The goodbye I was most afraid to witness, the goodbye that said, “If we’ll meet, we’ll meet. If we’re not going to, then we’ll just have to forget each other as if nothing happened”. That was it. Goodbye to commitments. There would be no hurts and no tears…
But I knew we were wrong.
I knew that the real reason why I’m crying right now is because of that promise of no commitments. How I wish, we committed ourselves and just went with the flow, like the water falling from the mountain, with no choice but to go down… But we had our own choices, and choices made us part our ways and never to see each others face, nor smile, nor tears…
I guess he was not my twin soul after all. I was most certain from the start that he was. But after that painful experiences of late-night crying, of pondering about things about us, of quarrels, of being friends again, of awkwardness, taught me all about the things and the status we are in right now… Not friends, nor lovers… Not even enemies. We are but strangers, barely two random faces in a crowd, waiting for our twin souls that would eventually be ours forever. We are in the same state of searching, but he’s not mine, and I’m not his.
Never.
~anamellie, 100708
Saturday, June 10, 2006
How Can I Tell You That I Love You
She clutched his letter next to her heart. She had read it many times, but the pain she felt was so fresh and the cut in her heart was so deep as if it had only happened this very moment.
This was what the letter said:
Dearest Trisha,
I watched you laugh and sit on the swing under our huge tree. Your auburn hair swayed and danced with the fallen brown leaves against the cold wind of autumn…
And we chased after each other all day during the hot summer, playing tag.
We've been together as friends. We cried, we laughed, and we quarreled just like any other normal friends do. You gave me a smile, enough to make me warm during the cold days of winter, the same grateful smile you give me whenever I pick up flowers for you or get you an ice cream from our fridge, but I could never explain why that smile made my heart do somersaults that day.
It was love... and I knew it had started that time.
I never told you my feelings, and I never told you that you're the reason why sometimes, I couldn't sleep at night… or sometimes, I even lose my appetite. I never could tell you how I liked your name written on my palm. I haven’t got courage to tell you, and I just contented myself by putting this inside my mind, “How can I tell you that I love you, we are just fifteen?”
Our paths got separated. I left you, your tears pouring down your beautiful face. I never meant to make you cry. I hugged you and even wiped away your tears. When I was cut away from our embrace, I looked at your tear-stained face, and I realized that it would be the very last time I would see you. Even though I never want that moment to end, even though I still want to be locked inside your arms, I knew it was really goodbye for us.
But again, I kept my feelings inside my heart even though it was too painful to not tell you how I feel. I couldn’t even tell you how much I love you. How can I tell you that I love you, when I was about to leave?
Even though we had never seen each others faces again, I still thought of you, I still miss you, and I still love you. I reminisce the moments we used to have when we were young. The way we watch the sunset together, the way we wished for snow to be gone, or the way you gazed your chestnut brown eyes at me.
Then the day came when I got to see you again. We bumped at each other, and you smiled. You were with someone. And after minutes of awkward conversation, My heart felt like it was ripping into pieces. I couldn't forgive myself for not confessing I love you before...
Tears rolled down my face as I saw you leave... hand in hand with him. How can I tell you that I love you, when someone's already owning your heart?
I know that before you even read this letter…
She skipped that part, that part where she felt her heart was being crushed by an invisible hand on her chest.
…but I want you to know that I really love you and I’ll still be waiting for you.
Love forever,
Christian
Tears rolled down her wrinkled face as she hated Christian, the same way she had loved him. She didn’t know he had leukemia, not until she was informed that he died because of it.
“If he only told me that he loved me,” was the thing she said before she closed her eyes and died.
~anamellie, 061006
Sunday, May 21, 2006
I tried not to (Prologue)
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory--
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Percy Bysshe Shelley~
Prologue
It has been 4 years
I found him dead,
Dead... because of me…
We were friends and I never thought that the love Sid gave to me that time would be the love that he soon gave to me when we grew older. I have been telling him not to fall in love with me but he refused. He told me that his love for me was so strong, that no one could break it. He was wrong of course.
And I was wrong too. I thought it would not happen. I thought that I could not love him and most of all, I tried not to love him but at a young age, 19, I started loving Sid and things went in a good way. However, the thing that has been haunting all of me kept coming in and out at the back of my mind.
And after a short span of time, Sid died. A car accident broke his handsome face. His mangled body was found several hours after the accident had happened and the broken pieces of the car could be seen on the highway.
It was an agonizing sight. I came there as soon as I knew what had happened. If only I was with him by the time he was hit by that huge truck, we could have departed this life together.
He was planning to visit his parents the day he died. That day when I decided to stay behind because I thought it would be best if I gave them time to spend together as a family. Because soon, Sid would be married to me. I couldn’t help but weep at that broken dream. We would have spent the rest of our lives together like we had planned, but his accidental death came, and I can’t help but blame myself for what happened to Sid.
His parents telephoned me at once. His weeping mother was the first to call. Minutes after that, his father called. Before I can tell them about the thing that has been haunting me for ages, cowardice sprang inside me. I never had the courage to tell them about it and I promised never to show my face to them again.
I fled with the memory of Sid inside me despite the fact that reminiscing him would make my world stumble... but I couldn’t help it if flashes of memories would cloud my mind.
“Best be off, Allodia. I love you”, I sometimes hear his voice speak again. He had said millions of goodbyes to me but all of it was just temporal. The last goodbye was the real goodbye. Perhaps he had never thought that that would be the last words he would say to me.
“I love you,” I often choke back, with tears on my face as I hear his voice replaying on my mind.
I closed my eyes and his face swam before me. I always wanted the way his kind expression smiled at me. No one had taken me by the hand with gentleness like him. Also, I frequently remember the way he covers my eyes whenever he wants to surprise me with flowers or gifts. He does it habitually. If he was here and he would cover my eyes like he always does, he would feel these hot tears flowing down my eyes or maybe there could not be a single teardrop if he was here because the mere memory of his death and absence was what made all these teardrops fall. Nothing made me cry while I was with him. I found my shelter while I was with him. It isn’t home without him.
But now that he is gone forever, no one would do those things again.
It will all be just a dream and Sid’s death would be my nightmare.
Four horrible years had passed since Sid died. I tried to forget him. Four years would be enough to carry that burden deep inside me. I promised myself that I would never love again. Loving is only fine if it does not involve murder.
I live in a hill that has a clear view of the city downtown. I want to be away from the rest of the world. Yes, I have moved on but I was afraid that I will risk another life so I bought a house on top of this hill with the fortunes I inherited and I locked myself away from the people.
I know that I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than to love and be loved in return and witness death in front of me...
~anamellie, 052106
AN: This is a prologue of the story I've been too anxious to make. But the demands of college forced me to put this work on hold. I feel so distraught but I can't seem to do anything about it. So this is a form of making up for the still unfinished story.
Vibrates in the memory--
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Percy Bysshe Shelley~
Prologue
It has been 4 years
I found him dead,
Dead... because of me…
We were friends and I never thought that the love Sid gave to me that time would be the love that he soon gave to me when we grew older. I have been telling him not to fall in love with me but he refused. He told me that his love for me was so strong, that no one could break it. He was wrong of course.
And I was wrong too. I thought it would not happen. I thought that I could not love him and most of all, I tried not to love him but at a young age, 19, I started loving Sid and things went in a good way. However, the thing that has been haunting all of me kept coming in and out at the back of my mind.
And after a short span of time, Sid died. A car accident broke his handsome face. His mangled body was found several hours after the accident had happened and the broken pieces of the car could be seen on the highway.
It was an agonizing sight. I came there as soon as I knew what had happened. If only I was with him by the time he was hit by that huge truck, we could have departed this life together.
He was planning to visit his parents the day he died. That day when I decided to stay behind because I thought it would be best if I gave them time to spend together as a family. Because soon, Sid would be married to me. I couldn’t help but weep at that broken dream. We would have spent the rest of our lives together like we had planned, but his accidental death came, and I can’t help but blame myself for what happened to Sid.
His parents telephoned me at once. His weeping mother was the first to call. Minutes after that, his father called. Before I can tell them about the thing that has been haunting me for ages, cowardice sprang inside me. I never had the courage to tell them about it and I promised never to show my face to them again.
I fled with the memory of Sid inside me despite the fact that reminiscing him would make my world stumble... but I couldn’t help it if flashes of memories would cloud my mind.
“Best be off, Allodia. I love you”, I sometimes hear his voice speak again. He had said millions of goodbyes to me but all of it was just temporal. The last goodbye was the real goodbye. Perhaps he had never thought that that would be the last words he would say to me.
“I love you,” I often choke back, with tears on my face as I hear his voice replaying on my mind.
I closed my eyes and his face swam before me. I always wanted the way his kind expression smiled at me. No one had taken me by the hand with gentleness like him. Also, I frequently remember the way he covers my eyes whenever he wants to surprise me with flowers or gifts. He does it habitually. If he was here and he would cover my eyes like he always does, he would feel these hot tears flowing down my eyes or maybe there could not be a single teardrop if he was here because the mere memory of his death and absence was what made all these teardrops fall. Nothing made me cry while I was with him. I found my shelter while I was with him. It isn’t home without him.
But now that he is gone forever, no one would do those things again.
It will all be just a dream and Sid’s death would be my nightmare.
Four horrible years had passed since Sid died. I tried to forget him. Four years would be enough to carry that burden deep inside me. I promised myself that I would never love again. Loving is only fine if it does not involve murder.
I live in a hill that has a clear view of the city downtown. I want to be away from the rest of the world. Yes, I have moved on but I was afraid that I will risk another life so I bought a house on top of this hill with the fortunes I inherited and I locked myself away from the people.
I know that I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than to love and be loved in return and witness death in front of me...
~anamellie, 052106
AN: This is a prologue of the story I've been too anxious to make. But the demands of college forced me to put this work on hold. I feel so distraught but I can't seem to do anything about it. So this is a form of making up for the still unfinished story.
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