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She brushed her bangs from her forehead, impatiently hitting the skip button on her iPod repeatedly, a habit she can never seem to kick. Looking up, her eyes settled on a familiar figure, a back view that is both so familiar yet so foreign. She drew in the sight before her inch by inch, from his hair that was partially concealed by a cap, down to his scuffed sneakers.
-
His trucker cap reminds her of the first time he pulled on a newsboy cap to go to the theatres with her. “Just in case, y’know. The company told us to be careful.”
The gentle dip between his shoulders reminds her of how perfectly her head fit there and how the world felt complete when she rested on his shoulders, his arm around hers.
His perfectly manicured hand reminds her of the way he used to tease her for her calloused hands, her writing bumps and stumpy nails. “I ought to get you some of that hand cream our stylist got us that day, it’s pretty good.”
The scuffed sneakers brought back memories of the days when they both danced for hours on end, going over and over dance routines, until perfected, in preparation for his auditions. She never had an ardor for dance, and yet nothing could compare to the euphoria when watching him perform with such raw, unadulterated passion.
-
His trucker cap – the very one he flung to the ground in exasperation during a heated argument; that slump in his shoulders that housed another head; those lanky fingers that grasped a silky-smooth hand; the scuffed sneakers that were swopped out for glossy dress shoes.
“It was an honest mistake, forgive me. I’ll prove it, wait for me.”
-
But the dice has been cast, and six years on, nothing really is the same as before.
Tearing her gaze away from his back, she exhaled, just a little too loudly, and resumed her abuse on the skip button. A shadow gradually hits her and he’s standing before her, offering nothing more than a little smile. “Still skipping songs till you get to the ones you like eh?”
He still has the ability to command breathless attraction. He digs his heels into the ground, a habit he has yet to kick. She chuckled in response to his statement and he joins in with hearty laughter.
And in that moment, they were almost there, back to the past.
With time, things might have evolved; he’s no longer an idol and produces music behind-the-scenes, she’s in the finance sector. Both don wedding bands as a testament to their love for their significant other. Regardless, he can’t help but wonder what if he didn’t take her for granted.
—————————————————————————————————-
note: /digs hole in ground/ I tried. Go easy on me please.
别再忧郁了好吗?: Stop worrying, alright?
x
It takes emotional strength to tear away from the familiar, even when deep down you know that this familiarity is the cause for all your pain. We think that this is love, but often, we are only infatuated with the idea of what or who we think we love.
And when it all comes tumbling down, that’s all I have to offer as an outsider - 别再忧郁了.
きっと、なんとかなるさ。
Some people, you think you love. You believe vehemently that you’d take a bullet for them.
And just, what do you do when one day you come to the realisation that this love has ceased to exist - by no fault of theirs. When every little quirk of theirs that you once found endearing and unique is suddenly excessive, annoying, unnecessary. Those eyes that you once sought comfort in become “just another” pair. You risk being labelled cold-hearted, selfish. That’s how the society perceives you to be. The most difficult part is that you’re always asked for reasons. Reasons for the change of heart, reasons as to what set off the trigger. And you don’t know. And for that one person, who used to mean the world to you, you’ll be that persistent “why” in their life. To which no one has the answer.
Today was a good and bad day at that. And possibly for the very first time, I’ve come to experience that joy is meant to be shared and solitary joy means almost nothing when other people, those close to you, are despondent.
“Are you okay?” in its very essence serves almost no other residual purpose apart from showing the receiver you care. Either way they answer, there’s almost no way you can do anything to comfort them or change things. Saying “It’s okay, it’s fine.” could possibly be the most cruel thing to do, in my opinion. Sure, it sounds like a comforting phrase but if I were in their position and was told “It’s going to be okay.” it only comes off as them brushing my problems off and telling me to shut it. Of course, it just might be me.
It is outright painful to see friends, who’ve worked extremely hard for extended periods of time, to not get what they deserve. And yet, the only thing that I could say was “Are you okay?” accompanied with “Don’t cry.” And even though I meant it, I almost wish I hadn’t said it. It just sounds so…superficial and insincere.
At times, like this - language isn’t limitless.
- Haruki Murakami
Its just how you crave for freedom, and when you finally attain the liberty, you’re pushed into a whole new situation, one that you thought would be the perfect scenario, one that you thought you were completely prepared for.
Its probably only then, when there are no reins pulling you back, then you know how much you rely on these restrictions/ rules and how they define the way you see things.
