Tuesday, 3rd. March. 2015
The light of the day pours into my apartment from the large window beside where I'm lounged on the foldout couch. The music playing from my laptop had been mostly piano renditions, merely background melodies to fill space as I read my book in hand. Only having one class in the morning had given me the time to enjoy the pleasantries of the weather. On my walk home I'd seen a few Cherry Blossoms and decided to bring them home and press them. From there, a book I'd been meaning to read caught my eye so I picked it up and here I am, in my zen.
The light sweet RnB vibes that came as the song skipped over floated in the air, as it did my thoughts strayed. I dropped my book into my lap and turned my gaze to the city view out my window.
If only I had just one day.
It was such a sweet tune, it filled my senses with such affection. I wish someone would think about me like that. Wanted to be with me that badly.
I let out a small sigh and fell back into the softness of the mustard cushions beneath me. I remembered when I'd first discovered this Album. It was around March of 2014, a time that I'd struggled with my recovery, my memory loss.
I'd been so empty. Laying on the cold wooden boards in the middle of my bedroom floor, agonising over the state of my life. It must have been around five in the morning, me huddled there, crying my eyes out.
When I'd thought all hope was lost, that's when 'Tomorrow' skipped over and as I listened, the lyrics spoke to me. Tucked me into the blanket of their warmth. Held me, like everything was going to be alright.
Tomorrow, keep walking, you're too young to stop. Never forget the you of right now.
Because the dawn right before the sun rises, is the darkest.
It was at that point the sun broke over the horizon and cracked through my window, slowly showering my room in a warm light. The light of a new day, the light of tomorrow.
Me, being such a baby, I'd burst into tears again, but, they tasted different.
They tasted like hope and love.
After that I went out of my way to check the rest of the songs on the album. To my surprise they were a mixture of flirty RnB along with a hint of inspiration in regards to hopes and dreams. The lyricsm was beautiful so I added it to my playlist, from there, the songs would come on from time to time, just like it had now.
Even though I couldn't remember, I knew myself well. And, I knew without a doubt there must've been music I was working on during my year here in Seoul. A mixture of frustration and loss sits in my chest at the thought of it. If presented with a choice, I'd have traded having those writings for giving up my memories.
Memories fade over time anyways… but, once they're locked on that paper, once they're manifested into the form of music, they become timeless.
I sat up and pulled my laptop over. All this thinking was only fuelling my hunger to do something with myself. To put my writing to good use. So, I searched up the agency who the artists of the album was signed with. After doing a little bit of research I discovered that the company was quite small scale, and, that there was an advertisement looking for a ghost writer. Without giving it a second thought I sent a small portfolio through along with my application. Hopefully I'd hear back from them soon.
I pulled out the diary I'd been keeping since the beginning of my recovery and wrote a small piece about my time in Seoul so far, this time I didn't want to forget a thing. After I finished I closed the book and slid it aside, laying back down and closing my eyes, the soft melody and warmth of the sun made my eyelids feel so heavy. Instead of resisting I dozed off into a nice afternoon nap.
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Memories - Jia's Piece:
Time. Unknown.
The wooden planks of the bench are beneath my thighs. The sun above blanketed by light clouds. Green grass and a tall white building. A Red Cross lament on the wall between rows of windows. People passing by once in a while.
A metal glints from the crevice in my arm as I look down. I'm in a white robe. I follow the plastic tube up to see it's connected to a bag of water.
It's fuzzy. Like static rippling through a radio, struggling to get a signal. Like trying to tune an old television by readjusting the antenna.
There's a boy sitting beside me. Shaggy brown hair and boxy smile. What did he say? His lips move, brown eyes hold sorrow but, I can't make out the words.
Do I know him?
Who is he?
An ache pulses through my mind, the static only worsening. Fading away. Is this all just a dream? I grasp at it, trying to cling to it but it slips through my hands, carried away into the abyss.