Author’s comments: Sigh, i don’t know what compelled me want to write this lar. >_< I really really dont know.

She laid down on her bed and stare into the ceiling that was decorated with those glow-in-the-dark stars that stood out brightly above her. She never noticed them ever since she grew out of them five years ago, and she was just too lazy to take them off. Thoughts of what happened when she was with him swam past her mind, yet she could not smile but could only cry. Why, why does God present me with the same problem again and again? That few months ago, it was another guy. Now, its him. And worse still, it is almost the same situation that had happened then. She sniffed and wipe off her tears, shaking her head repeatedly to chase away those feelings. Somehow, she could not bring herself to forget about them…

* * *

She could remember that day, where he shifted his seat to sit near her. She bit her lip, her heart skipped a beat or two and she could feel her face heating up as she felt the close proximity she was with him. It’s been a while since she felt like that, the feeling of wanting to freeze the moment and live in it forever. She continued reading her book, occasionally stealing glances at him and turning back immediately if she thought he noticed.

“Yes?”

Oh my god! He noticed. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I should not have made it that obvious. She smiled at him and shook her head. He went back to talk on his phone, and she turned and looked at him again, hoping that he would be more interested in her than the other person on the other end. Stupid me. That was probably someone much more important than me. I am just a lonely girl, someone not worth his time, a passer-by in his life. She looked at him and sighed. You don’t know how long, how I want you to embrace me in your loving arms.

* * *

She did not know how long time has passed; all she knows was that the clock was glowing 01:20 by the time she stopped thinking. Oh, the stars have lost their glow. Just like me.

She turned back and stared at the wallpaper of her phone, with stars glowing in the background. At least they have not lost theirs. Then, the display light faded. Actually, she just wanted him to call.

A very short story about the pain of longing in the midst of leaving.

“All the memories you threw away, I choose to gather…”

~Anonymous

As she mouthed her last goodbye to him, she stood by the bus stop and watched him as he walked away slowly. Each step he took brought him further away from her — from her side, and from her life. His figure diminished and blended in the grayness of the surroundings, that was fogged with the rain and the desolation it accompanied.

Perhaps, that would be the last time she would see him — his broad shoulders, his muscular frame, his tousled hair and his eyes that seemed to bore through her soul as if he understood everything about her. Faintly, she could descry the wail of a stray dog in the roars of thunder and a desperate cry of a dove. Are you mocking me? She asked the surroundings, somewhat wishing for a reply.

Perhaps, the next time she see him, they might be just strangers, brushing across each other’s shoulders in the busy streets; and their hectic life. Perhaps, he would not be him anymore. Perhaps, he might be imperceptible, aberrant too. Perhaps, she would be forgotten. The thought of her non-existence in his life brought a dull ache in her heart. What if that really happens?

She shook her head of all this thoughts and glanced up, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, yearning for him to reappear in front of her and hold her gently, telling her he is there. It was then, she realized that her hair was drenched and her face was wet. When did that happened? She questioned herself. She turned around and saw, in the distance, a building structure similar the bus stop that she bid him farewell. Suddenly, it dawned on her that her legs had taken over her subconscious mind and carried her towards him. The longing she felt was intangible and it manifested into a dam that threatened to break, releasing the tears. Did I cry? She touched her face and felt wetness. Her vision was blurry. Was it the rain, or my tears? Not that she cared anymore. Nobody could see her crying in the rain anyways.

The rain washed away the tears on her face, and fell down onto the ground. Washed away, just like the memories he threw away behind him — the gifts, the cards, the flowers. The shu cream puffs especially, the ones she made for him. He gave them back to her whole. Untouched and uneaten. She brought the petals of the withered flower and the particular card he gave her that was written with his beautiful words and bring them close to her heart. Her breaths came in hitches and chokes, of despair, of despondency. Her eyes, half closed, was misted with her tears.

“Everything beautiful has to end. Heavenly to tragic.” The words that appeared on the book that laid on the study desk, perhaps, hold true for her now.

This is just a very short story that i wrote when i was feeling quite emo over this particular person. Well, the whole story depends on how you depict, read, understand it. I shall not say more.

Her heart still skips a beat whenever she sees him. Along the walkways, the corridors, in the café. Many times, she wanted to approach him, to ask about his day at school, even if it means having to bear the pain of his ignorance. The hollow spaces of his absence reverberated with chilling echoes that struck terror in her heart. She feared that someday might be the last day she would see him. With him around, she felt safe. She felt that she could overcome all odds. Without him, it seems like the world would collapse any moment. His presence and absence linked into an impossible whiplash of pain upon her body.

Actually, it would not matter to her if he did not talk to her all day long. All she wants is just a nod of acknowledgement, a word of assurance, a touch of comfort from him to her. Just to make her feel warm and cared for. Sadly, it could never be this case. Yes, he is aware of her feelings for him. She had told him. Yet, he would never accept her. To him, she is just a mere passer-by in his life, entering the phase so quickly and vanishing in the midst of his hassled life before he would be even aware of it. Yet to her, he could cause storms of rage within her, which would rise and fall to any words, any syllabus he uttered. Sometimes, it would subside to small gusts of choking despair; otherwise, ascend to heights of forlornness.

* * *

She trudged slowly up the stairs leading towards the lecture theatre. She actually looked forward to it, perhaps, because that was actually the only common lesson they shared. Then, she saw him. His bag was slung over his shoulder carelessly, while he was clutching the notes with his free hand. She hesitated, and waved, hoping to elicit a return from him. He raised his hand up and she almost smiled. Yet, her heart that has ascended in the reverie of hope soon plummeted into misery and despair as she turned her head around and realized that his eyes was fixed on a girl behind her. Someone he likes. Quietly, she walked away, entering the theatre with her eyes focused on the ground, refusing to let the willful tears fall down and expose her inner, vulnerable self.

As she took a place somewhat near him, she watched him move his head and his hand in the swiftness of his writing from her world of deep thought, and longed for just one glance, one turn of his head in her direction, to throw off the punishment of invisibility. Yet, all this while, his focus was fixed onto his notes and the screen and never her. She looked up and glanced to the right of her where he was sitting a few seats away, and let out a sigh. She was too tired to listen. She just merely let the dean’s voice washed over her trance. In the thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness, she saw his face hovering over her and smiled before letting her eyelids drooped, shutting them off from the iridescent bright light in the lecture theatre. Not that she cared anymore.

This will be my writing journal, graphics journal, poetry journal etc.

PS. I <3 my blog name