Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Status: On a shelf




Can I post this on Facebook?

Status: In a complicated state of mind with E***

Why complicated, you would ask. Because love is never a straightforward thing no matter how we say "I love you, just that". It's complicated because we don't seem to meet a person who wasn't broken in some way, myself included. There's no black and white for the rules of engagement. There should be, shouldn't there? But since you're willing to break it to exempt  certain people then there is no point to such effort.

Have you ever been to so many kinds of relationships that you feel you're safer just being in an "understanding"? Let me tell you where I've been: in an I-love-him-he-loves-me-but-he's-got-no-time-for-me, I-love-him-he-loves-me-but-he-had-to-marry-someone-else, I-love-him-he-loves-me-but-he-wants-me-to-forget-him, we're-falling-for-each-other-then-the-track-gets-cold, etc. That's where I've been; needless to say, I ended up nowhere. Will I end up nowhere with you too?

I know we've known each other for more than two years and it was a rough I-like-you-you-love-me to a you-love-me-I-love-you-BUT which was not fair to you at all. You're old enough at least to understand my cruelty of wanting to shelve you for later---for when there's no other choice but you---and expecting you to still be available when that day comes. You don't need to take this shit. Honestly, there are more worthy battles to be fought and won than my love. I feel like a child receiving gifts which I could not reciprocate. In this scenario, for once, you are older than I.

I really just can't decide what I want us to be.


But, selfishly, I want you to keep loving me.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

The first snow has fallen




Truth is I love to tell my friends what you mean to me, but it came to a point that I got tired of explaining who you are. Like my job, our relationship is unconventional. Like my job, it is online.

No matter how much I told them how perfectly we fit together---emotionally and intellectually---all that registered to them was that: a) the relationship is online, b) you are a Muslim, c) you live in the desert (which is how they picture Jordan, never mind that it snows there).

I had to confess that, despite the cheesiness,  I wish I had a picture of us together to post on Facebook---the sort where we sit next to each other in a cafe (thank God you're not a tea drinker), or make funny faces, or show entwined fingers.

The other day we were talking and it was funny that we were taken aback when we both realized we've been together (or unable to move on from each other) for more than two years. You said, "time flies by so fast". Within those years  I have shifted to a new career, my best friend got married, your best friend's mother died, my best friend gave birth, you finally told your lousy GM that you're quitting, and you get to start a new business.

But we're still as far apart as when we started more than two years ago. There's still no promises; we're still hovering over an uncertain ending. I was sincere though when I told you I don't want to be like the Lei in 2011 who nags, fights and cries. I like it better now that we still love each other but are free.

I like that you call on Skype so we could talk when you wake up. You drove to work while I watch Amman through your dashboard. I asked you to point out the Syrian refugee camps from your office window. You showed me how bright it still  is outside at 7pm. 

Last year you pinged me on my messenger. It was during a spell when I was trying to avoid you, trying to move on. You pinged to tell me "the first snow has fallen".

An online relationship is not an alternative to being alone. It's as special as any other romantic relationship, and just as hard to sustain given the time difference and busy work schedules. 

They've noted how we've not met yet, without understanding that we've long started making memories together.  

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Remember Me

Disclaimer: Shari and Peter are the main characters of Remember Me, copyright belongs to Christopher Pike, I own nothing. Images from Google.

Note: A fan fiction to commemorate my favorite author's well-loved trilogy. I'm not Pike, but I hope Shari-Peter fans will enjoy this bit ^^


I am no psychic. I didn't feel any strange vibes that day. I remember everything seemed normal enough with bored students, noisy chatter all over the room and even my crazy nerves reacting during biology class is just so normal.


I looked up from my book for the third time after I saw from my peripheral vision another student entering the lab. But it was just Luke. Dammit, I gotta stop this, I thought. Every lab period I got jittery with anticipation and for what? Sure he talks to me, but really he's friendly with everyone. That's his charm. He's cool, he's good at almost anything and the best in baseball and he'll go places for it. I could wish he'd see me in a more special way. But, really, Shar, I told myself, count yourself lucky to sit next to him for at least a few hours every week.

He must have come from the back door, for I didn't notice him until he had settled himself next to me. Sat quietly. And that was strange for Peter. There was that familiar fluttering of butterflies in my stomach. It always took some nerve before I could look up at him and manage a casual "hi." I was about to say it but Peter's look stopped me. Our table is at the last row facing the window. He was gazing at it with unreadable expression.

"Peter," I said softly. "Are you alright?"

Before Peter could reply Mrs. Fulton's voice came over the PA system and effectively killed the chatter inside the biology lab. Apparently, the student assembly scheduled for later in the afternoon was moved for the morning and could everyone please walk over now to the auditorium? I glanced at Peter. He reached for my books and surprised me a bit when he took my hand and led me on the opposite direction of the auditorium.

"Where are we going?"

For a moment his familiar smile touched his lips. "Shari ever played truant?"

I chuckled. "Peter ever did?"

"There's always a first time."

At the parking lot I looked uneasily at Peter's motorbike.


"It's safe, Shar." He reassured me. "And you get to use the helmet."

No, Peter, I don't mind about that. Why did you suddenly want to take me with you? Am I really going to ride with my arms around you?

He reached to fasten the helmet on me but I shook my head. His blue eyes understood and told me he was cool with it. We sat on the bike.

"Hold on tight."

"You bet," I said.

I wasn't crazy about bikes. I was crazy about fancy Italian toys and own a shiny Ferrari. But right at that moment, feeling the speed, the wind and Peter's warmth was the most intoxicating sensation I ever experienced. I wasn't just holding onto him. At some point I rest my right cheek against him. Little did I know I was embracing him for the last time.

A few minutes later we sat on the grass sipping iced coffee. Again, Peter looked lost in his thoughts. I didn't mind his silence. I've had a good share of his crazy stories and laughter, his stillness now is a glimpse of another side of him. 


Sip. "I was offered another baseball scholarship."

"Wow," I breathed. "The fourth one."

He looked at me. "If the world's gonna end tomorrow, Shar, what would you do?"

I shrugged. "Make my confessions? Collect my absolutions?"

Another sip.

"What would you do Peter?"

"I'll take you for a ride, buy you coffee, spend the day with you."

My heart skipped a beat. I tried to parry his words with a playful banter. "What if today's Friday and we don't share lab?"

"I'll look for you in your other class, take you for a ride, buy you coffee, spend the day with you."

I frowned. "Peter don't tease me."

He suddenly lie down on the grass and closed his eyes. "Do you watch all my games, Shari?"

"I never missed any since I came to Hazzard."

"You missed one."

"Did I?" Did I?

"Yes," He opened his eyes. " And that was the only time I lost a match."

Peter, what ride are you taking me on?
 


A great sadness came over me out of nowhere as I felt him reach out for my hand. To this day I couldn't explain what had happened. There was no further admission after that, no further explanation. It seemed like a good start for something between us, but even as he squeezed my hand, a part of me knows it is the end and that it was Peter at his best. Peter making up for what he has lost. Peter asking for a last absolution. Later that night when Jo told me about his fatal accident I made a decision to keep our last moments to myself. I didn't even tell his brother nor the police. I couldn't keep his warmth forever, but I could keep his last words to my heart.

He helped me down as we stopped in front of my house later that evening. His final thoughts were of graduation. Not his, but mine. "Two years from now you'll go to college and meet interesting people. You will remember me, Shar?"

It was dark already and the last of my shyness has come undone. I hugged him. "I will remember you, Peter."


Thursday, August 18, 2011

In Retrospect...

Lara.
She's all heart. No, no--I don't mean soft.
I mean she doesn't see you:
she feels you. She isn't impressed:
she is moved. She cries a good deal because
a lot of things get to her.
I keep telling her to be strong, but
in a perverse way I admire her for hurting.


Rael.
He is my anchor.
He doesn't lack imagination himself,
but whereas I ride with it,
he pins his in a corkboard.
He is quick to laugh,
clever with rejoinders,
sensitive to hear the words you left unsaid
and doesn't pretend he knows the answer.


Lara.
Some girls talk a lot. Some have got a lot of things to say.
I didn't know there's a difference until I listened to her.
For someone who hasn't been around the world,
she knows a great deal.
Before I met her, I got a lot of things on my mind already,
mostly about work.
But I couldn't stop her thoughts from flowing in.
I don't want to.
And it surprised me to know
there's still room enough for her there.


Rael.
It makes me sad sometimes how I can
 read a person like a book. I see your wounds and
what you fear for, then and now.
But like a hero in the novel you refused to go down.
Your sheer will effects to chasten me.
I'll always admire how you go off each time to
a more stressful workday than the last and survive it
while I'm tempted to crawl back to bed at the hint of a bad day.


Lara.
I'm not the best out there for you, but I don't want to let you go.
I do not know what you see in me because I myself don't really know me.
I want to give you more time, more hope.
When I see the best of me reflected in your eyes,
even I could hope.


Rael.
I wish I could tell you all the little things that make me love you.
But love is tricky. 
One might need to
keep some thoughts close to heart to save one's self.
But I'll tell of two:
I love you for your good heart.
For forgiving a woman who scratched your new car after you learned
she's hurrying to see her brother in the hospital.
And I love this kid in you who doesn't mind 
drinking milk in a tetra pac in front of me.
I could tell you more.
But maybe I shouldn't.





Friday, August 12, 2011

Eyes On Me

Note: My first Gundam-inspired fan fic
Disclaimer: Sunrise, Bandai et al own GW, I own nothing.






Relena got up from the bench. She heard the sound of the clock near the park announcing the hour. She counted; it struck seven. The car would be waiting near the fountains, just as it always had been, but tonight home is the last place on her mind. Let them worry, she thought. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten.

She walked steadily towards the docks, but her mind had reached it ahead of her. I’m drawn, take me away. Take me down. I never believed in infinity even as this world, on the verge of destruction, seemed to live on forever. I did not ask for any of this. Engulf me and maybe when I reached your bottom I’ll be cold, out of breath and...safe.

She didn’t notice that the night was dark until the park, well lighted, lay behind her. There was no moon and she realized that the street lamps had been made intentionally dimmer to suit the atmosphere on the wharves. Indeed she could see an intimate couple a little far ahead. The sound of the waves that greeted her was music to her ears. She pulled her frock a little tighter around her as she finally reached the railing.


She closed her eyes “'You are a waterfall, and I a stream. You will forever flow through me, but I shall not contain you; and you will never wash me away.'” The breeze carried her whisper away just as soon as it left her mouth.  She wanted to laugh but was short of conviction. Yes, how could she have missed the irony of her life---everyone is looking up to this girl who’s forever on her knees, picking up the broken pieces of herself.

I am broken. Everything in this life, everyone, had brought me pain after pain. I am alone and yet they asked of me the strength of a hundred-fold. Where shall I draw it from? What do I know of war, of peace? I wanted peace because it seemed so uncomplicated and yet I’ve been made to see that peace is as intricate as war. That it can be arrived at from so many angles. I asked which angle, and you, you talked to me of strategies, weapons, and death. Death? I asked you how to find peace and you talked about death?

He reached the docks. Relena had her back towards him. She was twenty meters away. He took one look at her, leant at the railing and looked away. Slowly he took off his gloves, put the pair inside his jacket and took off the black jacket itself. He was only wearing a tank top. The air was chilly enough without the sea breeze and goose bumps just as soon appeared in his arms as soon as it made contact with the night. It felt good. Ice inside as well as outside.


Relena opened her eyes and glanced up. When she was younger she had believed in making wishes on falling stars. But after she’d travel in the outer space herself, she realized that the enchanting twinkling stars were really no more than burning balls of gases that could neither grant your wishes nor allow itself to be inhabited by dear departed souls who wished to guide their love ones from above. Her eyes fixed on a blue star. Blue stars are cold. Dead. Cobalt blue?

A wave of dizziness gripped him and on instinct he grasped the railing. It was gone just as soon as it had come; he almost believed he had imagined it. Almost, except that it wasn’t the first time. It was the fall---something broke or snapped or tore—that never healed. A thin shadow of a smile touched his lips. Where there two falls?

Earlier he didn’t believe he would do it, travel a good 1.7 billion miles for it. Quatre raised an eyebrow. Wufei was mildly suspicious, damn him. No one else saw him leave. He was about to get into Zero when he was surprised to find that Quatre followed him.



            “Slow night,” Quatre commented.

            He paused at the landing and grunted.

            Quatre smiled and shook his head. “Get used to Wufei, he doesn’t trust his own mother.” Their eyes met and Heero finally nodded.

            “I’ll just get some air,” Heero said. “I won’t be long.”

            It was nuts how he covered the distance in time, even with Zero’s speed. But he did it. The waves crashed below him. I can do nothing to reclaim your innocence, but I can remember. I can’t take back what I said, but I can fly.

            “Kill me,” Relena said out loud. The night made no reply. From a distance she could make out lights, a ship was out at sea, probably a cruiser. It was a beautiful night after all. People cruise with perhaps no slightest remembrance of the time when black mobile suits with its bombs raze the skies, annihilating anything moving in sight. If he did kill her then, would---what? Would Sanc have survived? Christ, even Heero would have snapped at that thought. “Damn,” she swore, as she at last acknowledged the name. But wasn’t she thinking of him all along?




            She could say “he” as if he is any guy in the park, in this world or within the universe, but he would always be Heero. Except that for the “he” she could affect sympathy, for she had felt the loneliness there and she had connected. But for Heero---for Heero she wanted to put on courage, though in lie: for she could survive the ridicule of the world but not his.

            What do you see? Heero thought. Relena’s outline was hazy from where he stood, as if mist had surrounded her. Why do you still come?

            Kill me, she had told him. Slowly, Heero raised his arm towards Relena’s direction, his fingers on an imaginary gun. What gun had that been?

            Suddenly, Relena felt the warmth settle inside, even as the night became steadily chilly. It was what she came there for after all. 

I had come here almost ready to give up, but I need only to remember your cold, detached eyes and decide that no, I won’t have it on me yet. Only that and I’ll make it through the day.  She bowed her head, her eyes stung. Wherever you are right now, thank you.

            He lowered his arm. You are the death of me, Relena. He put on his gloves again but didn’t bother with the jacket. He took one last look at the girl.

            “Happy Birthday,” he whispered. He turned, walking away from her.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Clauses

I can't tell you what it means to
be the one left to figure
how to finish the sentences
you started. I strain to read your eyes,
wanting myself reflected there;
wanting my fingers to
reach out - draw out the
clouds, the haze; wanting
to free you even as you
laugh freely, unabandonely.
You are daring me really
to walk and leap that chasm
between wanting you and
possessing your soul. I want to:
yes I love you; yes,
I understand; yes, I see you,
yes I could. But
do we really understand the
consequence of two different worlds
merging? If I finish what we started
will the sentence be the reality we had
risked our lives to discover?
If love draws us in, could we
still breathe when it closes in? But, oh,
I want to be with you; to be
inside you; breathe you, get lost in
those sighs. Such close quarters
as this tiny human heart can
suffocate us -- I do not really
want to drown yet I see myself
jumping in. So now I understand why
loving you is hard:
you are the death of me.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Parallel



"I miss you."

"Did you get what I say? Are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so."

Deep breath. "Lara, are we kids? Are we teenagers?"

Silence.

"We can't just keep using our hearts. Life isn't easy and I'm doing my best to get my act together. And then we'll see."

What made you think career and finances are easier to plan, figure out or manage than love? They're all within the big thing we call LIFE. Life is forever changing. LIFE is unpredictable. What made you think some of the atomic particles of life can be controlled and taken care of nicely under your capable hands? You can't. So since all these particles are in the same state of unpredictability, why make "us" a second priority? Why can't we now?

Why do you say you can't live without me and do?

"Lara..."

"No, we're not kids and we're not teenagers."

"I love you, that's one thing I know."


I love you too, but how come I'm the only one who knows more?