travelingincognito
There is a roar inside me that is forcing its way out. To be freed from the enclosure at the back of my mind. To spill itself on the sandy surface of the paper. To be shouted and be heard through the hallows of the trees. Desperately trying to break free from the encasement I have built around it. But I can't. I have I have locked it inside, fearing it might destroy me, but now I fear that I, myself am the one destroying myself.
As she opened the door, the soft clinging sound of the wind chime arose. The smelled of ink. The sweet and captivating scent of old pages. The lovely rhythm of music echoing through the room.
She entered repository with swift gentleness. She skidded along the aisles searching for titles she wants to have and titles she already had. It was one of her hobbies. One of her hobbies together with her.
Flints of memory lane came through her again, she remembered as they take turns in pushing each other on the swing. She smiled to herself when she remembered the time when she would climb up to her window sill just to tell her good night. They were neighbors. Their windows were right across each other, but she won't just wave good night to her. She would climb the tree settled between the two houses and knock on the window and say, "Good night! Don't let the bed bugs bite okay?" with a smile. She missed that smile. That sweet, yet quirky smile.
During the days they would walk side by side, going to bookstores, playgrounds, climbing on trees, bike riding and all sorts of stuffs. They would do it regularly that it became a routine.
"Will be friends right? Forever? No one should leave the other behind."
"Of course, that's what's friends are for right?"
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Pinky swear?'
"Pinky swear."
"Okay then. To this day and forward, no one will leave the other behind, we'll always have each others back, no hurting one another, no leaving. Always together."
"I promise."
The swear was made, they smiled at each other realizing that the sun was about to set.
"Oh. Sunset. I better get home."
"Me too. Together then?" she said with a smile.
"Together."
We took each others hands as if the other were the light guiding us through the dimming road. We were inseparable. We were full of hopes. We were young. We believe in promises.
Now I realized how foolish that promise was.
"Just give me a minute okay?" he said while answering his phone.
I was left there in the restaurant. Playing with my fork. The food haven't arrived yet. I'm getting really hungry. "Oh well," I thought.
I picked a small notebook from my satchel and started sketching, but no idea came out of my mind. Creative block, one of the things in life that I hate so much.
I tapped my pen and started to look around. Where could she be? It's been 3 minutes. And where is the food? I'm getting really hungry here.
So I got quite frustrated. Then something caught my eye. Our table is near a mirror and in the reflection a saw a pair of eyes. Gray and frustrated. Yet they seem to gleam. It's a beautiful pair of eyes actually. I never thought eyes were actually beautiful until that day. So there I was. Staring into those eyes. And when I looked back, the girl with the gray eyes was already getting up to leave. I stared at her dark brown hair as she skittered to the door. I felt something weird I can't explain. But when I saw those eyes, I knew that there was something. I know I knew her. I just don't know why. But I felt a connection. Because in those eyes I saw myself clearer than I ever had.
"Sorry it took me so long, son." he said. "Business stuff."
"Yeah, sure. Okay."
"Oh look, here comes the food. Boy, I sure am hungry."
"Yeah me too."
The waiter arrived with our dishes. We ate. The food was delicious by the way. But I still can't get my mind of the girl with those gray eyes.
Old photos, letters, and notes scattered around the floor. She picked a photo up. The photo was aged. A bit tattered but you can still see the subject. She picked a letter next. “This one was probably decades ago.” she thought. The paper was yellow. The ink was fading away. And the corners were torn. As she struggled to read the context she caught a glimpse of a gold object on the floor.
It was a locket. And as she opened it, she knew she was getting closer to retrieve what was rightfully hers.
I feel like a balloon. Like I'm on the verge of blowing up. I feel so fragile. I feel like everywhere I walk and go there will always be needles, pins, cutters, knives. Everything is bubbling around in me. Depression, anxiety, pressure, stress, emptiness. They're all building up inside me like molecules. And then one day, when all of these 'molecules' build up so much, I swear I'm going to burst.
The gates were opened, the lions went out of there cells, the gladiators stood in the middle of the arena. Unsure of what to do, praying for the sake of their lives, shaking and anxious. They weren't prepared for this fight. They were armed, with swords and shields but that wasn't enough. They have to strategize and to kill. Yes kill. In this arena, it's killed or be killed. But in their case, it's mostly going to "be killed".
She bit her chapped lips and looked around the cafe. She was waiting for her bestfriend who just came back to the country after four years. She didn't know what else to do so she took out a book. Reading always comforted her. It makes her feel safe and relaxed.
After a few minutes later, a tall man approached her and said, "Murakami." and added, "Nice choice. I've always admired his works." She looked up to the man and said with a smile, "Of course you do. You've always admired him since we were little. And it was you that got me reading his works."
He smiled and sat down together with her. The two childhood bestfriends finally reunited.
Like being scolded. Or an action that could mean "anger".
A culinary dish. Something french. I'm really not sure what it is. This is just my hunch.
writing since 2012 · 9 entries · 9 days shown up
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