still / broken

sigh

Staring at the purple wall behind her study desk that faced her, she wondered - why?

the purple wall packed with shelves and a framed painting faded to a blur 

She gave it everything she had. Everything then does not seem like much now, but for a fourteen-year-old girl, it took a great deal of courage for her to even think of doing what she did. She would know; and her six year experience in an all girls' school didn't do her much justice in this aspect. 

Then again, she still remembered what made her do it. There was a lot she could say; and, yes, it was those cliche reasons you'd see in a chick flick. What did you expect? For an immature, young teen-aged girl who was only in her second year of a daily encounter with boys in school, she only knew those kind of reasons existed. What really surprised her was how much it'd affect her. 

Go ahead, ask. What was the reason?

She'll still smile when she pictures it in her mind - his smile. His dimples fell nicely on the sides of his cheeks when he'd smile, and dimples are always cute; to her at least. Even now. Of course, that one plus point made everything about him seem almost perfect in the eyes of a young teen. 

In the early days of their acquaintance, she worked with him. His playful outward personality made her seem more like the teachers' pet, and she hated that it did, but she saw otherwise. You see, if a person was truly that playful - which was what they'd call "irresponsible" - he wouldn't have even bothered to reply her  text messages when she mindlessly freaked out over not returning the file to the office like she did. (It was part of their duty, and for her, it was a big deal.) 

He (and a friend) got into trouble once, and it wasn't those mild kind (like forgetting to do homework), it was pretty serious. To be completely honest, she still didn't know why they made it such a big deal. After all, it was only for dropping a bench and the loud bang led to a slight commotion. It was the only time the school was naturally "united" for something that wasn't an official school event. The hypocritical thing is that, with all the talk about establishing unity, they made that one instant seem a crime. (Don't blame them, this is the nature of our society.)

There was talk of a suspension. The ridiculousness of it all pushed her to write an email to their teacher to try to save him. Of course, being the coward that she was, she emailed it to the nicest teacher she knew then. She still isn't sure whether or not it worked. Perhaps the big trouble he was in was a compilation of all the minor mistakes. She didn't know anything. Still, she did all she could. Although, she shouldn't have assumed. She knew that. Who was she to interfere?

Everything else is a blur to her now. Even all that wasn't what she was confused most about herself. 

He never liked her back. Obviously. Why would he like an overweight, overtaken by puberty, goody-two-shoes like her? 

She did fess up to him before. At the bus stop on the way home, she mustered enough courage to text him "I like you". 

Yes, he used the "friend" tactic in his reply. Harsh? (It actually wasn't. It was pretty nicely put.) 

That wasn't enough to stop her.  

what was wrong with her?

❤

She got a jar. 

And purple paper covering. 

She made 99 straw hearts. 

She put them in the jar. 

She gave it to him in class. 

Not the best idea. In class? What was she thinking?

She heard him mutter "walao". Okay, the sign of bad news. 

Long story short:

A while later, someone told her where it ended up. 

Then, she cried - long and hard. (that's what she said moment not intended)

Guess where it ended up.                                                                      

♡

The pain still lives in her; it's just kept away, but she would never forget it. 

He wasn't mean to her or anything. He's a good person and she still believes he is. She doesn't have the right to blame him or think of herself and what she's done as 'spectacular'. It really wasn't because she isn't.

What do you know? A fourteen-year-old's idea of love. It's as innocent as that. 

The important thing is that, for what it's worth, she loved. It was an experience. :)

❤

The Forgettable and The Insignificant

Spring. 

She sat, alone, atop the hill beside the lake, watching as a single Redbud tree grew in full bloom. It's beauty captured her completely; she had not broken her gaze upon it.

abnormal

What was there to not love? It was a magical sight — the simplicity of the little heart-shaped leaves as they rested alongside the delicate clusters of flowers naturally tinted in ombré magenta, all planted on a cleverly twisted trunk and outward spreading branches. There and then, the Redbud seemed to have enhanced the allurement of the whole scenery - the vibrant green of the frondescence, the soft blue shade of the sky surrounded the moieties of pure white clouds; its beauty was infinite. 

fool

Yet, there and then, tout de suite — she was overwhelmed by dolor. Solitude hadn't bothered her before until its impendence sunk into her mind and heart. The quiet indulgence of every hint of peace and happiness that often came from innocent reclusiveness had become a sign of social suicide and, as the universal apperception would have it, there would be no survivors. Admiring the Redbud tree still, she screamed and began to tear. 

not good enough

The day was fresh, with a lively spring wind, but it was horrible to be among such amazing company without a heart to truly savour every bit of it. You see, pain was as simple as it looked - you had to cry and try to let it all out before you are silenced by the voices inside your head. 

unworthy

But she stopped, remembering that screaming was not normal. You had to understand that eccentricity was a deformity. There were no positive connotations in being bizarre, and it certainly was nothing to be happy about. fall She stood, silently and slowly, as the pain gradually took control of her every subsequent move and thought. She forced a wry smile that pinched her face instead of smoothing it. As their words turned, repeatedly, in her mind, she began to realize that her life was one of experiment. lose The search for herself was entirely internal and she was fighting a losing battle against society. 

prisoner                                                                                                                                                    be free

Reality has it that you had to be normal to be accepted, which is subconsciously always being harped upon because your acceptance determines your survival. It was a social rule; non-conformity means death. Your thoughts didn't matter to society, neither did your feelings. Only achievements that are socially deemed as successful would acknowledged as 'true success'. It didn't matter whether or not you were beautiful, much less unique on the inside. Image had always been secondary to her, but not to society. You had to look the part to play the part. You had to be perfect. The irony - so much said about being yourself when not a soul was brave enough to stay true; fear her - especially. 

just...

fade                                                                                                                                                          stay true

The vibrant flora, ardent blue sky and flawless white clouds became increasingly blurred.

The Redbud tree, once alive, dimmed into a dusty shade of gray.

Those who wandered - disappeared.

All that was once authentic - now a mere product of society.

Smiling, sincerely (for the first time in forever), she shut the windows to her soul and said to her beloved, "when we become forgettable and insignificant, always remember - we had today; then fade away and be happy."

away

The Existence of Magic

♥

I dedicate this (part) to you in particular.

In all my life, I never thought that something as magical as this could happen to me.

Then, you showed up and you proved me wrong.

Thank you.

♥

When she was there the first time, she hadn't actually considered that it would be her second home for the next two years of her life. Before she knew it, she had to face the reality that she had never thought she would. With her old, reused, black-and-pink coloured backpack, her hair pulled back and tied in a single, simple ponytail (that did not compliment her) and her fear overwhelming her (which was no surprise), she stood by the concourse, lost and clueless...

♥

There he sat, quietly, beside me. I could hear him breathe slightly heavily; perhaps it was the result of rushing into the hall just a while ago. As we waited for the commencement of the Orientation, the thought of taking the first step to make some new friends had turned in my head for the millionth time. After all, that was what this whole week was about, wasn't it? 

Yet, the only thing that was holding her back was the apprehension that had crept inside her ever since this whole thing started, and something told her that it wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. Still, as the saying goes - "if not now, when?"; and that was when she decided to take the risk. She looked around her and tried to look for a possible 'target', but everyone else seemed to have had a head-start. Just when she was expecting things to take a turn for the worst, she realized that the only other person that seemed to be "lagging behind" from others in this struggle was that boy sitting beside her. 

"Here goes nothing," she thought to herself - mustering as much courage as she could possibly have had inside her at that time - she turned to him and said "hi". 

While that was happening, she was also contemplating about how the next moment would end up like, and she came to a conclusion that it would be awkward. Little did she know that the denouement would be far from her prediction, because at the very instance of her making an attempt to start a conversation with him, he did the same thing, at the same time.

Wow. 

Is it possible for something so simple to be so enchantingly serendipitous?

The weird thing is, though, the concomitance did not culminate there. Just as they were laughing at what had just happened, they both turned to each other and asked "what's your name?" at the same time as well; that was when she realized that, perhaps, this wasn't a mere coincidence. 

Perhaps, this is the existence of magic; and, perhaps, this whole journey would prove it.

♥

"What is wrong with you?" they asked her repeatedly and apathetically, but unfortunately, not rhetorically. 

What could she do? 

Nothing. 

Nothing but stare blankly at the ground and ponder over all the possible causes for her abhorrent, and possibly indubitable, abnormality. What was wrong with her? Why did she fall into the untouchable category of the out-of-the-norms? She could not find an answer and it seemed as though they were waiting for one - one that will serve as an explanation for her asininity. 

In hopes of coming to a conclusion, she questioned herself - what was right about her? To her dismay, that was harder to answer, and she came to realize that there was no answer to the latter, because the answer to the former was and always would be everything. 

At that instant, enmity grew within her - bitter, agonizing hatred for herself and everything erroneous about her. There was sadness in her eyes - the worst kind; the kind that resembled scars, the kind that would never disappear. Even then, the torture had only just begun. Perhaps, she thought, this internal struggle was a sign. At this point, there was no doubt that, in all that is evanescent, it was time to end the pain. There was absolutely no point in living when you had to be constantly reminded of how inadequate you are, especially in a world that is in perpetual pursuit of perfection. 

Still, she felt like a stupid weakling, defeated and tormented by just a few words. 

No, they were not just a few words. 

They were daggers. 

They were stabbing and slashing her from the inside; they have not stopped and she was certain that they would not stop. 

Still, she tried to stop them. 

She tried to ease the pain by letting the blood escape from her internal wounds. 

She took pills to silence the haunting voices in her head that have put those two deadly questions on repeat. 

She was tied to the bed in a dark corner in a place for special people like her. 

No, nothing was working, and she knew that. 

Her heart stopped beating. 

She lost touch her soul.

They were taking over her.

She could no longer think, they thought for her. 

They said she was only normal if she thought that way.

She could no longer speak, they spoke for her.

They said she was only normal if she spoke that way.

She could no longer move, they moved for her. 

They said she was only normal if she did what they told her to. 

She began to believe them. 

It was the right thing to do.