Every time something pops up in my head while I’m not in the mood for opening my computer, I type everything down in the “Notes” inside my phone. Things like what’s the weather today. How the sun rises up and then disappears behind the cloud. How the night sky touches my soul. Who I miss and who misses me… Everything. I write, and put all those little things inside the drawers of memory.
And today, when I suddenly had the urge to take everything out, to savor the nostalgic taste of the past, they were nowhere to be found. Disappear. Completely. Like they were never there in the first place. Every drawer is empty. No sparkle of the past.
I didn’t mean to fall in love. I kept saying this to myself, over and over again. That I shouldn’t fall in love. Not this soon, not after I was eventually able to move on from a long-lasting unrequited love. This should be the time I spend taking care of myself, and cherishing myself after years of throwing away my values while chasing for something that was so obscure and ambiguous. And yet I fall in love again. One-sided, unrequited.
I didn’t know it was love at first. I thought that it was just a temporary crush, and that after a good night’s sleep, you will completely disappear from my head. But you stayed. You stayed there all night long, minutes after minutes, days after days.
Suddenly I was curious about you. I wanted to know your feelings. I wanted to know your favourite songs, what kind of music do you sing. I wanted to know the meaning behind your drawings. I wanted to know the sound of your heartbeat. I wanted to know your favourite books, your favourite time of the year, favourite dishes, favourite place, favourite people. I wanted to know about your scars, and the real face behind your masks. And that was when I fell in love.
I love how your face shines under the sun. I love every single mark on your wrist, and every bruise on your legs. I love the way your nose scrunches up when you smile, or how you smirk when you try to be sarcastic. I love the way your hair blows in the cool summer breeze, or when I get butterflies in my stomach every time I see you. I love each and every scar that rests on your body. I love all the big things, but especially the little things.
If someone told me to describe this feeling, I probably couldn’t mutter a single word. But I know what this felt like. Like a thousand fireworks bursting inside my head, like a swarm of butterflies filling my stomach, like waves crashing against the shore on a starry night. You felt like a dream. A vivid, surreal, yet peaceful dream.
We may not share the same feelings. I may be the only person who waits, who risks my heart being hurted, who chases something that I don’t think I will ever have. Our love may not bloom. We may be two parallel planets, orbitting on the same plane but never touch. And yet for the first time in a while, I feel happy.
Or was it supposed to be this way all the time?
– this is dedicated to my friend, her youth, and her feelings.