Part 1 : こいのよかん

I think I forgot something. But I don’t remember what it was.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten something. It was right there in front of my eyes, I even recall making a mental note to take it but it somehow slid out of my mind. Now it has been bothering me for a while and I find myself unable to function normally.

I couldn’t sleep last night.
I couldn’t sleep the night before that too.

Not because of my inability to find the things I’ve lost, but because there’s a multitude of thoughts in my head that I’d wish to forget.
Who is to blame anyway? I have been told to stick my head out and tuck some life back into my body, but as a schizophrenic I’m more likely to be an introvert, and an insomniac.

Despite that I have been counting sheep, trying to thrust myself into stargazing  a multiverse every night. For months I felt nothing, then slowly, slowly, the unraveling.

But during the day, I just want to remain in a corner of my living room, where a faint voice in my head demands me to bash through the apartment door, shrieking at the top of my lungs and remind the world of my existence, but without finding these things, I can’t afford to go out.

Daylight is an assault. Moving from one room to the other is carnage.
Grief makes children of us all, blindly searching for that which we desperately ache.

The world looks almost fake sometimes. Like the mountains and sky in the distance are a backdrop for a set. A green screen. I hate the places my mind can take me. The places that scream everything is plastic and nothing is real.

Why is it always dark in here?
Why do I feel so cold?

The only light I have in this room is of that static TV I didn’t want to turn off.
There’s no cable, no internet, no cellphone reception and no one to talk to but myself. I wonder why nobody ever rents this place besides me. But there’s always a creaking sound from upstairs and an eerie scrubbing sound coming from my bedroom, where I have been only once since I’ve moved here. I’m probably delusional already, this foggy mind of mine is nothing but an abyss of hate and self loathing.

Self loathing? Because of Arabella, obviously.

Arabella and I had been the best of friends since childhood, and honestly, she’s the only reason I’ve have been able to push my way through life. After my parents passed away, I felt devastated and if it wasn’t for her, I’d have been one of those people out there, living without an ambition.

But I chose a different path, I made her my ambition.

I owed my life to her.

There’s a famous Japanese phrase: koi no yokan    
It doesn’t mean love at first sight, the one we have been consuming in our mainstream culture throughout our life. It’s closer to love at second sight. It’s that feeling when you are with someone that you’re going to fall in love with eventually. Maybe you don’t feel that right away, but it’s inevitable that you will.

No matter how much I long to see her, it’s my body that fails to cooperate. I can’t gather the guts to get out and knock at her door. When I miss her, I reminisce her through the fragrance of the organic cigarettes that she smokes amalgamated with her scent of lavender and sometimes I touch the things she used to touch, looking for echoes of her fingers.

In a room full of art, I’d still stare at her.

Blind faith though, was something she believed in with all of her heart, but not at the expense of tasting every last bite of the journey with a clear and open palette. And when she needs to shelter from reality, she takes a dip in my daydreams.

A week ago, I remember wanting to get onto my knees and confront a ring, but when I met her, she looked perplexed. Her eyes were wandering, as if they were searching for someone.

“Arabella, I—I wanted to—tell you—something.”

But as she turned her gaze towards me, and before I could bend my right forelimb she hollered to the man standing at a distance, clinging to his chest and kissing him.

I looked away pretending not to have noticed anything and put the ring back in my pocket. She gasped and rushed towards me.

Reluctantly forced a smile, turned around and took a deep breath. One of those feelings where you want to smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet.

That was it. I stared at them silently, and walked away without saying a word. Silence is the most deafening sound you’ll ever hear. It’ll shatter your brain, your heart, and by the end of it, you’ll realise it hadn’t even touched you.

She kept calling my name but I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I fiddled with the ring that was supposed to be on her finger and tossed it in the trash, hoping to discard all her memories with it.

I wonder where this part of you came from,
Was it hidden in the shallow of your eyes?

I had this feeling before but how did I not notice the evident? I find it strange how we fell apart, how there was no longer a sparkle when she looked at me, how her eyes didn’t light up anymore with chuckles when I cracked a lame pun, how she wouldn’t look back at me when I wanted to swim across the depths of this universe beneath her retina, through her mind, into her heart.

It’s much less picturesque without her catching the light.
Did I mention how difficult it is to find things in bleak luminosity?
It’s even worse when you can’t figure what you’re looking for. I guess I’ll have to keep searching.

Continued in Part 2.


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