Someday (Chapter One) | Romance
Loading...
Chapter One
A man like him deserves to be the first experience of love.. with his masculinity, attractiveness, elegance, and mystery. A man whose absence is absurdity and presence is hope.. a man who made me feel the eagerness of love for the first time.. a man who made me feel the absence of those present and their falseness.. a man not like all men.. he is an unforgettable man. A man who came in December, what do I expect of him? Other than to be sacred, just like the sacredness of this month to me.
Heavy raindrops gently knock on my window accompanied by fierce winds resembling my heart, perfectly fitting my life in its gray color and heavy rain, perfectly fitting my beginning, my end, and my fate as well. This one runs to hide under the store for fear of getting wet, and this one takes advantage of it to create an intimate atmosphere with his girlfriend, and this one stands under it and enjoys it as if it were the only joyful thing in his life.. A thousand faces and a face, and for every face a thousand stories.
As for me, I feel nothing, not the rain, not the people, not even the feeling itself.. nothing but emptiness, the emptiness that enveloped my heart until nothing remained in it but a memory of a meeting I dust off every day, and a love for rain that was once all the life for my heart.
Forgetting has always been the only thing by which we can move on and overcome.. It has always been and will remain that rare blessing that comes to a few people, the blessing of moving forward on new paths.. Today coincides with two events that shook my soul, two events that December made recorded in the history of my life, two events untouched by the hand of oblivion and unbattered by the showers of moving on.
The December in which I died once and lived again.. The December in which I used to sanctify passing moments and the details of first meetings.. The December in which I lived wearing the dress of departure and absence, and in the end, I bid it farewell with a tired heart hoping for nothing but oblivion.. I bid it farewell with a heart that wanted nothing but for December and life to be gentle with it.
And here is December, coming once again to remind me of it.
For it remained rooted in my life, not leaving me nor leaving my days, and its blurred phantom keeps dancing with me to empty melodies I compose more by night than by day. How could they say that love is nothing but happiness and flying with dreamy wings to see the beloved, while I suffered from him and his love to the point of losing my breath and the evaporation of my dreams.. How can I forget him when he is the one who made me a fragile person unable to feel, and who keeps remembering the day of our meeting as if it happened yesterday?
How can I forget and pretend to forget a distant past enveloped by a love story that brought us together, which was more fictional than realistic.. more false than true.
I was swaying between a heart that told me what no one else said, and a mind I thought understood me more than myself, only to find that heart and mind had made me half a person.. half a love.. and half a heart that believed it could do the impossible like flying or possessing the heart of the one it loved.
I had certainty that I would find someone to complete me after him, and that I must put him in the depths of oblivion and move on, because it is a temporary, depressing experience from which I must learn, an experience I must overcome with an aching heart.
Except I didn't know I would remain stuck in his memory.. stuck at the bottom of the experience, and that I didn't forget or pretend to forget, and I think I will never forget, for he still fills me and fills the holes of my heart.
After all, I am still at the bottom with his phantom, dancing with him and dreaming of a complete story whose hero turned miserable beginnings into an ending that is only complete with his presence, and a heroine who believes in a platonic love that turns the ending into another life still being written for them to live.
I knew you were the captivating and special hero who turns the heroine's life upside down, but I didn't know that I was never the heroine; rather, I was that margin that loves silently and without an echo.
But that was my problem from the beginning, that I believed, expected, and trusted that I would be with him like fairy tale endings. I believed that fate would be with me this time because it placed him in front of me without even letting me catch my breath. I believed, but in the end, he pushed me away as if telling me it was time to slow down and regulate my breathing.
He was the only one with whom I lived the details of first love, the love in which I soared high, in a world far from reality and gloom, a world with enough love to make it dreamily pink, where there is no one but him and me.
But no sooner had I immersed myself and delved deep into it than my dream scattered like autumn leaves, and my wings broke like worn-out glass. I crashed into the gloomy reality to find disappointment and bitterness waiting for me, drinking from them to the point of intoxication, and I still haven't woken up from their intoxicating effect.
I was hoping that life would love me, even a little, and compensate me for what I had lost, that fate would pity me and pull me out of the state of misery I was living in.. but how could it take me out of what I am in, when it gave me a strong lesson I have not and will never forget? How, when it is so full of contradictions.. sometimes giving me to the point of generosity, and sometimes taking from me everything dear.
It was so full of contradictions to the extent that it made me excessive in my feelings and expectations to the point of hurting my soul and making it empty, full of scars. In the end, I knew him without feelings, without a heart, and without the slightest idea about this thing called love, but he made me believe and trust that the first eagerness and heartbeat are nothing but another happiness I would discover over time.
Only for my discovery to shatter me and make me retrace my steps back to square one, or even less.
Night has drawn its curtains, announcing the halt of my thoughts and the halt of the rain as well. I began contemplating the place around me as if seeing it for the first time: a simple house consisting of a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms, especially my favorite spot from which I look out at the world to see its conditions, and also my only friend who heard my complaints without objecting and accepted my weakness without speaking.. my friend to whom I wrote suspended letters that never arrived.
Every angle, every corner, carried with it a flood of deep, dusty memories full of the scent of nostalgia that was and still is in my heart.
So I shook off these thoughts and went to the kitchen to prepare something to satisfy my hunger. I found a piece of bread and some cheese. I know this is enough to feed a bird's stomach, let alone mine, as I am originally not the gluttonous type who loves food immensely. Just enough to silence the rumbling of my stomach and stay alive, nothing more.
I finished my simple meal, and the clock pointed to midnight. I went to my room and lay down, hoping sleep would caress my eyes that had forgotten rest for a while, for I hadn't enjoyed a fulfilling sleep for days. Those thoughts were and still are keeping me awake, especially those illusions and pains that refused to leave me.
My memory took me to that date in the winter of December, specifically on the first of the month of departure and the first eagerness of the year of nostalgia, 2008. I am not a fan of memorizing dates, as they are a foregone conclusion to me that do not warrant lingering in the mind, having neither impact nor exception. But this day I consider the day of the beginning and the end.. the day of the beginning of the first heartbeat and the end of my life.. the day of the beginning of the experience and the eagerness of hidden love.
The day fate played and practiced well, becoming, as I was accustomed to in my childhood, the beginning of a loss for something I expected to win despite my constant cheering, encouragement, and certainty of victory.
The day of the beginning of fading and composing the melody of sorrow that danced with me for so long.
Winter of December
2008