I always waited for him, like a fool, whenever I retraced the path we walked together, I would see him holding the bags he thought were too heavy for me.
He did not know those heavy bags were nothing as I carried heavier groceries than those, it was only one time he looked at me.
Shining under the sunlight like an angel and told me so sincerely, "You are a girl, let me handle it."
Some feminists might despise me for it, but when he said those words, my heart melted like a candle wax, one could actually see me as a girl.
Maybe that was the event that became a catalyst to my secret crush, I could not hide it anymore, as my eyes were filled with admiration for me. What a gentleman he was!
I would smile from ear to ear, whenever I walked on that footpath, no matter how heavy my bags would be, it always became easy to carry whenever I recalled this memory.
I never thought we would turn out like that, but my soul had an idea of it, and my mind was prepared. As days passed by, I could not stop thinking about those promises he made.
I seemed to have a high standard regarding gentlemen and love, as I assumed that a man never goes back on his words.
One of the days after he had bought the car and before the text incident happened, I had lost all hope of him coming back. But he did.
Losing all my expectations, I never imagined visiting my house without prior notice. He and his brother sat in the guest room for like three hours, I sent our maid to serve tea.
He didn't enter the crossed curtain that separated the guest room and inner part of the house, nor did I dare as a girl, to charge out in front of guests and greet them boldly.
I sneaked a look, standing behind those curtains to see what he looked like now in real life. Was he still so small? like my brain remembers?
I failed, my heart raced against my chest, my lips fluttered, I swiftly retreated and ran back inside.
Out of anger, I texted his sister.
[We talked yesterday, why did you not tell me your brother was coming?] -me
I regretted it and wanted to delete it before she could read it but I was too late. She already replied.
[They left in a hurry, only a few hours ago, I was informed that they were at your home.] -His sister.
[Well, I was saying this so that I could have prepared better hospitality for him.]-me
Nice save!
[Don't worry too much about it, they don't mind it]-His sister.
Well, I did mind it.
His father and other guests left, leaving his brother and him behind. Alone.
I wanted to go and at least greet them out of courtesy but didn't dare to, not because of anything else, but because I wasn't looking good enough to face him.
I wasn't prepared to meet him at all, I was afraid he might pretend to be a stranger or maybe we were. I was shy and ashamed of myself. It was the time when I did not know the word.
'Love Yourself'
I never regretted not meeting him, even if I did, those regrets long died in my heart by drowning in the sea of fire inside.
There were four repetitive dreams that haunted me, that made me feel like he cared about me, even though in the dreams he never did.
Those four dreams appeared after I had a one-sided breakup. Again, it was one-sided too.
I explained it to my closest friend however, it turned out she wasn't really interested, so I stopped at the second dream. I wrote it down somewhere I forgot where I did.
Just to connect those dreams and find meanings behind them, only to have them turned to ashes and buried like it was a dream.
Dreams hold a special place in my life, I interpret the dreams I see and often find valuable meanings and messages. As the years pass, the frequency of dreams is decreasing.
Every day I wish to have a good dream, but it doesn't happen. Perhaps, my mind is exhausted.
I was alone, very lonely, and it never bothered me before because a frog of a well doesn't know what the sea is like even if he reaches the pond by a miracle.
His presence itself made me feel like I was the main character of a novel and no matter how cruel destiny is, it might have pitied me. Or maybe my karma fought against destiny to give me what I deserve.
Just like the demon who saved a life, I was blessed to have a taste of undeserving feelings. And just like an angel that killed a life, I was punished to dare dream of reality.
Who was I? Why was I existing? The purpose! Those questions never crossed my mind before. Because like a herd of sheep, I was following a blind leader up to a mountain peak.
Studying because others were doing it, having friends because others had, I was working tirelessly for a treasure I had a vague idea about.
As I described it to my therapist.
"It's like I was on a train stuffed with people, and suddenly I fell off and injured myself, a critical condition that became an obstacle for me, I could not even stand up, let alone run along the trail to catch up like others behind me and before me. It was as if I was dead. My race to the destination of the train becomes a dying wish and regret.
But I am not dead, people expect me to get up despite the constant bleeding and run to catch up until my last breath.
I want to get up as well but I can't.
I can only wait and heal myself and then take a taxi directly to the destination.
The problem is there is no taxi and even if there is I have no money. To reach that destination, I have to work while others just sit on the train, obviously, they have problems too.
Then, a time would come when I would get paid and then search for a taxi in a deserted place because everyone is inside the train.
Only if I convince the driver to drive faster, then I can reach the destination. May be a little late, but when people are looking for earning a living. I might already have enough to spend.
Because I worked."
However, the problem is the train is out of sight and I haven't recovered yet. The confidence I had when I said that my therapist wasn't found inside of me as the days passed.
Devastation, frustrations, and havoc I was going through were suffocating me. People had more colors than I ever knew of. The betrayal of dreams and bitterness of reality made me hate the world even more.
But not for once did I have a sense of regret because I know the result would be the same if I were given a second chance, I could have done better if I had been in the wrong. But I knew my sickness wasn't something I could control.
It had ruined my life. The sickness! right! However, I was blamed for not taking care of myself, and for getting ill all the time.
I would sneer in my heart when I heard those words, and sometime I would sob, but what else could be done?
I can't really just die for not living up to the expectation. I still have to survive no matter how humiliated I am.
Just like the crush I had, a foolish illusion, it wasn't the only thing I was delusional about. My entire life had no more ground for me to stand on. The pain is real and so real that I wished it was a nightmare and I should wake up from it.