The Cliché

I was always such a cliché: I always fall for my best friend.

My first love was my childhood friend, expectedly. He has dark hair and his eyes were as brown and round as bush baby's. He used to walk me to and fro the playground, sometimes after eating a Popsicle. Once, he grabbed my hand that we walked to home hand in hand, ten sticky fingers and melted Popsicle. That was one of my fondest memories.

My last love... was you, I think.You were always there, almost all day and night. Back in college, our dorm buildings were just 50 meters apart so we did almost everything together from the first day of orientation. But no, of course back then I did not, yet, realize that I actually saw you as more than just my breakfast-lunch-and-dinner buddy.

Fast forward to graduation and our first job, you got a job at the university while I got an offer from my dream job in another city. We were about 500 kilometers apart but yet we were still talking, updating each other's life every Saturday night. Sometimes you even came visit, especially when it was summer break at university that you can take some time away from your research. Vice versa, I would stop by our alma mater whenever I visited my parents who lived a couple hours away. Most of the times, you even came to visit them as well, either with me or on your own. You were like the son they never had.

Then, your project at the university was completed and you got another research opportunity offer at the same city where I lived. You moved and basically it was college all over again. It was another series of breakfast-lunch-and-dinner all over again. Neither of us mind, though.

Neither of us find that our coexistence means something else, something more.

At least until last night.

Well, they said people are at their most beautiful self when they talk about something they really love. They would have that certain passion, desire in their eyes.

I just saw it last night. I still cannot get over the way your eyes sparkled when you told me about her.

She Said, He Said

She said, she cannot love. Not again. Not after the last time she did became the worst disaster she ever had in her life, so far.

He said, it does not matter. He had all the love in the world to share, more than enough for both of them.

She said, it was tiring. It was highly improbable to succeed. It was an unnecessary wait.

He said, what if the wait will be the best thing ever happen to both of them?

What if, the result is their happily ever after?

Tiny Beautiful Things – Cheryl Strayed

This is taken from Cheryl Strayed's Tiny Beautiful Things last chapter (or letter?) with the same title. I really really like the answer she gave to the question, and considering I'm a twentysomething, this is super relevant. I also think that it's still relevant for other age group; age is just a number after all.

What would you tell your twentysomething self if you could talk to her now?

Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.

You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

When that really sweet but fucked-up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do Ecstasy with them, say no.

There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.

You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize that there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin, you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.

Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her sceptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possible even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.

Say thank you.

Home

What is worse

Not knowing where home is

Or knowing where it is but cannot go back?

Secret

She is the kind of girl who like to work behind the screen.

She is the kind of girl who does everything discreetly.

Well.

Should I say, most everything?

----

"I can't do this anymore, you know," she says after my explanation.

"But you shy away from much compliment, from acknowledgement. You like to keep secret. You like to be secret," I replies rightaway.

She smiles to me before replying. The way her hazel eyes twinkles, it makes me feel special just by being looked at.

"You know what? When you have something so special, so precious that you are endlessly grateful for, you should really want everyone in the whole wide world to see. That's what I feel about you."

Wicked

"Because, I was trying to save you... from me."

"I know it's such an arrogant word to say, to save someone. I can barely save myself. But really, I just want you to be happy. And I know you won't get it from me."

"I'm wicked. I know the right things to say, or do. And I tend to exploit it. I know how to make people feel special. I know how to make things happen like fate. I know how to manipulate things to make it so. Sometimes I even manipulate people."


"Really. I'm not a saviour, not a guardian angel. I'm wicked. You're much better off without me."

Dark side of the Moon

She's your dark side of the moon, isn't she?
Invisible during your time of glory
Hidden by the glorious showering light

She's your dark side of the moon, isn't she?
When the dark time comes, you'd realize that she's there
Outlined by the tiny ray of light that's left

She's your dark side of the moon, isn't she?
She's there
She's always there
But you don't always see her

In the End

She smiled in a way that no one else can do.

"To be honest, really, I know I'm such a pain in the ass. I know I annoyed you so much that you keep wondering whether this," she smirked and waved her hand airily to the space between us, "is a good idea. Hell, I also wonder about that too. Do you really think I am hopelessly in love with you? Don't you ever think that you also annoy me? A lot, if I may add."

I stared at her. Her bluntness never fails to shock me.

"But the thing is," her smirk faded a bit, "I know that I will always stay for you. No matter how much you annoy me, no matter how much you hurt me."

I still stared at her, words were lost for me.

"The thing is, I will always wait for you, no matter how bad the circumstances. No matter how bad we've fallen apart. No matter how many other choices you have."

I tried to answer, but she grabbed my hand and smiled earnestly.

"And really, if in the end you don't want to choose me, it's okay. It really is alright not to choose me," she let go of my hand and pecked my cheek before stood up, "but don't leave me hanging. It hurts."

With that, she went. 

Paradox

You keep feeling lonely but you don't want me to stay.

I'm a broken toy but I keep trying to fix you.

Anchor

I took another look at the crowded terminal. Typical holiday hustle bustle. The screen had not showed my flight number yet, so I guessed I still need to wait for a couple of minutes for my luggage.

I turned on my phone, scrolling down to the last message he sent me.

Would you be my anchor?
Be the one who tie me to the shore
Not the one  who let me drown
Tie me to the place I call home
 
I did not reply, back then, six months ago. I did not know what to say in my reply, I did not know what he expects from me. More than anything, I did not want to let him down.

We had our ups and downs. Many times, perhaps hundreds if not thousands. In the end, we decided to still be friends. We were one of those cliches: can't live with each other, can't live without each other.

He said I annoy him a lot, I said I just show him the real me from the start.

I said he keeps me hanging, he said I expect way too much from him.

He said he cannot promise me anything, I said I will always be there for him anyway.

Then he sent me that last message, along with a date and time when he will go back home. For good. And try to set things out. He and I, among others.

It was terrifying to trust someone with all you have. Especially when all you have is them.

No promises, no commitment. Just friendship.

People cheat when they are in relationship, even married. How do you know they will not cheat on you when you are just friends? How can you be sure they will not lead you on and push you to the cliff? You did not have anything to promise one another. A scary thing, friendship. People trying to keep others around without any commitment or promises being made, only by trusting them not to leave you.

I took another glance to the screen, it showed my flight number. I got closer to the crowd as the luggage started to go round.

So, two months ago, I decided to take the risk. To take the leap of faith. I booked a ticket home, as close as I can get to the time he indicated in his message. I knew he usually stop by at the terminal's coffee shop before heading home, so I still got plenty of time to catch him.

Why?

Why did I decide so?

I got my luggage already and paced myself to the coffee shop.

Because by then, by the time I booked my ticket, I realized that he was, no, is my anchor. He always is. No matter how hard things get between us, we always find way to each other. And by then, I realized that I need an anchor. I might not be home for good, yet. But I realized that if he really is my anchor, I did not need any promises.

Because I knew he will always be there, to tie me to home where we belong.

And I knew I'm right when I saw his eyes lit up as I entered the coffee shop.

Leave Message after the Beep

...

"I wanted to, you know," she smiled weakly. "I wanted to wait for you. I wanted to because I knew I need to. I need to see where we will end up, where our path will finally meet a dead end. Will the dead end be a boring brick wall, will it be a small, tiny wooden gate covered with ivy and wild roses leading to another unpacked mystery. It's terrifying alright, but I wanted to. I wanted to wait and I wanted to do it for you. I wanted to do it with you."

She looked to the right. The fiberglass window showed her smile, which did not reach her eyes.

"And I know that if I want to wait, I have to have no expectation. Otherwise, it's not waiting. It's denying the truth while living the lie I want to be true. But then, you're not there. I mean, yeah, you're there some time before you go and make me questioning whether I should still wait. You go and make me wonder if I'm just making a fool of myself. It's tiring. It's tiring and I think...," her voice quivered a bit, "I think I'm done."

She hung up.

But she knew those words cannot even convince herself.

Constellation of the Clichés

You know how people say if something is too good to be true then maybe it is?

Falling for the sound of your smile and the twinkles in your eyes over and over again.

Dancing under the fairy lights in the middle of the night.

Holding hands at the top of the hill on windy night.

Embracing under the rain while waiting for the pedestrian green lights.

Stolen kisses during night walks along the harbor.

Passing by your lecture room on particular time just because I know your class will be dismissed.

Breakfast in bed after you spent the night crying.

Cuddles. Lots of cuddles, anywhere, anytime.


I know we are such a cliché. We are constellation of the clichés.

You would not mind if I add another one cliché, would you?

So I smile, put the rose near your headstone, and wish with all my might that you did realize how much I am in love with you.

Karma

Hi! The name's Karma, but usually I was called K. So my job, in this world, is to make sure everyone receive what they deserve. Not exactly a walk in the park really, considering how complex the relationship between each and one human being.

Right now, I am floating above a young woman - a beautiful one, with elaborate flaming red curls and cute freckles across her face. She is on her way to meet her bestfriend, the one she has not seen for seven years. They are sort of drifting apart on their junior year in college. Now he has just came back from his semester abroad for his postgraduates, and her book tour has conveniently done at the same day he reached their hometown so they decided to meet.

To catch up on life.

To resolve misunderstanding.

To rekindle old love.

...Or at least that is what she is thinking right now. But my duty is to give her what she deserves.

Which is no fun.

You see, she thought she has some kind of romantic feeling towards him. Also, she thought he might be feeling the same way. The thing is, she was the one who start the misunderstanding back then, seven years ago. She was placing him as her safety net in almost all along her romantic relationship with others. So her karma is - not to spoil anything - to hear him telling the dreamy, fairy tale-esque story on how he met his fiancee. Must be a big slap on her face.


----

I was on my way to meet my best friend since first day of college, when the freshmen were assembled in the sport hall for the opening of orientation week. He was standing right beside me and introduced himself. His bubbly, carefree personality quickly caught me, and the next thing I knew we were eating lunch together at the cafeteria almost everyday. We chatted, laughed, and studied together. It felt so great to have someone who had your back, no matter what.

I had to admit that the reason of we grew apart was my selfishness. As I knew he always had my back, I began to take him for granted. He was kind, mature, and reliable; I was foolish, careless, and vain. Not a good combination. So one day in our sophomore year, I was telling him how I fell for his frat brother and whether he was willing to set me up with him. Which was not the first time I asked him for that kind of help. He just could not take it anymore, he went and we drifted apart. Each day, every single day since then, I cannot stop thinking how foolish I was not to realize his feeling to me and mine to him.

And there he was. Already sit on a table for two in a small tea shop on the corner of the street. And there it was. The gleam. A gleam in his eyes every time I meet him. The gleam of love and wonder, as in the eyes of new dads when they hold their babies for the first time. Then he smiled at me.


And I came to a halt. There was something different. There was something missing.

The butterfly.

The tingling, warm, light feeling in my stomach every time I meet him.

It's not there anymore. Not that I wasn't glad to see him, especially after all this time. But still, it was so bizarre not to feel that way anymore.

"Hi, how's life?" he stood up, pulled me into quick embrace, pulled my chair out, and smiled as he sat again.

"Same old, how's yours?" I asked, a bit unsure of how should I deal with the lost butterfly.

He just raised his left eyebrows as if to say "well, you know", and smiled.

Then he began to ask me about my book tour, which I answered less enthusiastic than usual as I was still wondering about the lost butterfly.

Naturally, he noticed the change.

"Are you alright?"

I shook my head a bit and tried to give him a convincing smile, "yeah, I'm good. How about you? Tell me everything new!" I tried to push the case of lost butterfly away. I missed him, after all, we had not had proper conversation for seven years.

"Ah, I won't bore you with the tale of my courses and essays and thesis and whatever," he chuckled and hesitated a bit, "but I have a news I want to tell you."

He smiled.

Still, nothing. Which was weird. It was the smile that had been haunting my dreams these past few weeks as the anticipation of meeting him was growing.

He fidgeted a little and took an unusually deep breath.

"So, what I have been wanting to tell you is that," he looked into my eyes, "I am engaged!"

Oh.

What.

That was unexpected.

Another unexpected thing was, I felt nothing. I mean, I was happy for him, but I did not feel sad or whatever. And I was genuinely happy.

So I just smiled and told him, with all the sincerity,

"That's marvelous! When is the day?"

----

I think that is the lesson for her. I have seen her mind and I know that what the girl needs is a lesson. I know karma is also a lesson, but sometimes a slap on the face is not necessarily the component for every lesson. The necessary component is realization. And I think perhaps this time, the karma will not be a slap on the face.



Because sometimes, you are not in love. You are only enjoying company of the others, and feel sort of afraid to see them gone. You don't want to be alone, therefore you keep others for company. But it does not necessarily equal to romantic companionship. Hence, that is the lesson, I guess. Not the one I expect to teach her, but even Karma does not know everything.

I do

Do you remember what you asked me last year, exactly today?

We were on the top of the hill, overseeing the lights from cityscape. It was near midnight and the wind was blowing ruthlessly. 

Today is a clear day, the sky is brightly blue. The smell of hyacinths, your favorite, is thick in the air.

Do you remember what you asked me last year, exactly today?

You were drunk so I just laughed at your question airily. Without any further thoughts.

I never thought this day will ever come. I mean, I know this will happen eventually, but not in the near future. Not now.


Do you remember what you asked me last year, exactly today?

I laughed because I never thought it was a real question. I thought you were just too drunk.

Oh there you go. Your face is radiant, smiling serenely. The sun shines warmly from behind the pillar, just near where you stand.

Do you remember what you asked me last year, exactly today?

You were, no, are my best friend. You will always be my best friend. 

Maybe I have taken you for granted. You are always there. No matter when, where, or why, you are always there for me.

Maybe I never know what I have. Or how much you mean to me.

I never even try to talk to you about that night. Not even once.

Now I see you, standing by that shiny pillar while she is walking, no, gliding towards you.

She has always been the pretty one in group, where I am just the dorkish, over-achieving one.

She is smiling at me, at our group who sit in the same row. There is a bouquet with lots of hyacinths in her hand, like a bunch of purple and blue brushes falling from her clasp.

Do you remember what you asked me last year, exactly today?

What if I was being honest?

What if I did answer?

What if I said....


She smiles as the minister ask her the question, right before she answers.

"I do." 

The Word is "Busy"

Don’t say you are busy.

Busy is a selfish word.

Saying you’re busy, once twice thrice, to people around you implies that you don’t have time for them.

But you do have time.

Everyone always have time, if they make it.

If they value the person or thing, they will make time for it.

Don’t say you are busy.

Busy is an arrogant word.

Saying you’re busy, once twice thrice, to people around you implies that everyone else is not busy.

But they do have something to do.

Everyone have something they have to do, don’t belittle them.

It is only a matter of priority and not making a big fuss.

Don’t say you are busy.

Busy is a lazy word.

Saying you’re busy, once twice thrice, to people around you implies that you are once avoiding doing something you have to do.

But you should not burden your laziness to them.

Everyone have their own business.

Stop burdening them with your laziness.

She was the kind of girl who tries to be there for everyone, for she knows how hard it was to be alone.

She was the kind of girl who greets everyone with Cheshire Cat smile, for she knows how a simple gesture can brighten one's day.

She was the kind of girl who takes care for everyone, for she knows everybody need someone somehow.

But she was broken inside.

So there she went, attaching herself from one person to another one, hoping for solace. Hoping for mending.

While she knew, deep down inside, she would not get better this way.

While she knew, she was leading herself from one heartache to another one.

While she knew, there was someone, out there, waiting for her if only she's willing to reach.

Want, Need, Love

Do you know the feeling when you don't really know what you want, but you feel pretty sure about what you don't want?

Do you know how you feel like you want something, or someone, but you're not sure if you really need that?

It was one of our awkward meetings, if not the most awkward one.

He was seems unable to stop straightening his jacket, which was already flawless. Well, it was a bit wrinkled, but who cares. He looked so gorgeous that even our server was still so obviously staring at him.

He smiled awkwardly at me, which I replied with the same amount of awkwardness. It was, probably, most likely, our last meeting in this small hometown of ours. He was going to catch the plane to his sister's place in the big city, miles away. He got the job opportunity he had been dreaming of. I knew because I was the one he used to talk to about his dreams. His fears. His everything, really.

Oh well.

These past few years had been a roller coaster ride, since I met him in my family ranch during the hunting season. It was so curious that we had never met each other until then, considering we both grew up in the same town, the same small town where everybody knows everybody. But there we met for the first time, and where after the first conversation near the ranch border we became inseparable. He was so easy to talk to and I was lonely. You would be lonely if you grew up all alone as the only child in a ranch quite isolated from the town center.

The roller coaster started when we began to date. Oh well, I was not even sure if we were dating. We were going out for dinner or movie or lunch or a stroll in the small forest near the ranch a million times, and we were not seeing other people. Not romantically. We held hands, sometimes, most of the time. We hugged. We kissed. But we never label our relationship. We never even call this a relationship.

See, the confusion led to roller coaster ride of emotion, instability, random fights, and all those mess. We both agreed that we were tired of them, but we stayed with one another nevertheless. He told me he loved me once,  but I said I was not even sure what love mean, if I even believe it. But he stayed. He stayed despite all the mess, he kept coming back.

It made me realize that maybe I should not let him go. I began to think that I want him. What I was not sure is if I need him, and vice versa. But I thought I should not let him go because I knew one thing for sure: I don't want him to leave me.

"So, how's everything at ranch?"

I startled a bit, "All's good. The chickens cluck, the cows moo."

"And how about you? How's the preparation going?" I asked him back, not sure if I really wanted to hear details about him going away.

"Yeah, everything's packed, I also have sent some stuffs ahead before my flight. Ready to go," he flashed his signature smile, which made my stomach dumbly lurched.

Our server brought our food, while giving him the eye. He looked at me with amused expression so I rolled my eyes. I just had to.

Which made him laugh. Oh that laugh I'll miss.

"...I think I love you," I blurted out while he was still laughing.

His laugh stopped midway and his gaze fixed at me.

"Oh come on. You don't even know what love mean. You don't even believe in love," he said.

I paused. Oh well, if I never say it I know I'll regret it.

"That was the thing. I don't know what love is like, but with you I never know what was I'm feeling. If I don't know what I feel and I don't know what love feel like, then maybe, maybe, what I feel to you is love?"

Maybe

The clock on the top of city hall tower chimed in the distance: once, twice, thrice. Eleven times, the girl counted as she ran through the drizzle. The moon shone brightly, its reflection shimmered from the puddles on red brick pathway.

I won't make it on time, she realized. She wiped a drop of water from her cheek, not sure whether it was the drizzle or her own teardrop.

He'll be gone.

She knew things will not work out between them. She knew right from the start. She has been trying to convince herself that letting him go is the right thing to do. She never believes in love anyway. Not with the bickering parents and her siblings turning into a bunch of wild kids.

She passed the dimly-lit park and halted for a while. That park. The place he kissed her for the first time: not even a kiss on the lips, it was more the brotherly kind of kiss on the top of her head. The place where she realized that she has been too involved. The place where she realized she should back off.  But how could she? Everything was so very perfect. Everything was dreamy. Every time spent with him was a movie scene.

She began to ran, again. Maybe the faster she ran, the faster the memories of him would fade. 

But I don’t even know what I want to tell him, she began to think between sobs, I don’t know what I feel anymore.

Her watch peeked from the sleeve of her raincoat: thirty minutes to midnight. Thirty minutes to the time he was going to step out of her life for a year, maybe forever. Who knows what the future brings.

Maybe she will miss him.

Maybe she will not.

Maybe he will meet someone else and settle down.

Maybe he will wait for her.

She already realized that maybe deep down inside, she never wanted to know the truth. About him, about them. She just wanted to keep the idea of him, of them being together, stay alive in her mind. She did not mind to continue her life in constant denial.

She also realized that he most probably feels the same way about her. He liked the idea of her being the perfect partner: bubbly and carefree and patient and kind. She was all those most of the times, but she was merely human being. She had her ups and downs all the time.

But we can work it out. Everything can work out if you try hard enough, she thought as she reached an intersection. Right across, the bus he’s aboard was starting up its engine. The pedestrian light was still red.

It was earlier than she expected. He must be already on board. There will be no time to say anything. At all.

Unless…

The street was deserted, it was almost midnight. She took a glance to both sides of the road.

It’s now or never.

She took the chance and ran, there was a flashing bright light and she felt a hard metal hit her side.

The sound of shattering glass and crushing metal was piercing the night.

She fell to the road while the bus departed. Maybe a closure was not necessary. Maybe they did not need to talk about themselves. Maybe they should just leave things where they were.

Maybe we are each other worst nightmare, trying to believe otherwise.

She heard sirens wailing right before everything went dark.

200 days

200 days before…
She finally agreed to go out with him. It was only a harmless, gelato-and-coffee date anyway. Nothing bad will happen. She tied her black boots and sighed.

She had been trying so hard not to attach herself to anyone. To protect herself from other heartaches. Not even to her closest friends. There was always a part of her that she keeps from each person. She had enough heartache for a lifetime.

But it was hard to do to him. The first time they met a couple weeks ago, the bizarre way how it turned out they live somehow closely intertwined yet they never met until then had made her interested to talk to him. How he used to go to the same basketball club as her brother, how she used to work part-time in an ice cream parlour which his sister often visits. There was something in his eyes that made her felt comfortable to talk to him the whole night, which continue on when he walked her home.

Her boots tied, she stood up and took her messenger bag.

127 days before…

It was an unusually warm night and the stars were shining bright. The crust of the pizza they had was perfectly crispy, there was no clump in their milkshake, and the splashing sound from the fountain was not enough to distract him from the spark in her eyes.

She smiled from ear to ear and he tried his best not to pull her into his arms, never letting her go. She has been laughing a lot today, cracking jokes when they walked on the pier and all the way to the park where they decided to eat their dinner. He watched her took a sip of her milkshake, gnawing on her straw as she drank.

She was an adorable girl, cute as a button. It was almost impossible to resist her girl-next-door charm he has heard some guys at school talking about. But back then, he did not know her, not yet. Not until he met her about two months ago, and they had been going out ever since. He never knew the reason why she kept rejecting his invitation to dinner or movie or even only a cup of coffee for weeks, but he was glad when she finally agreed to have a gelato with him.

He smiled at her as she finished her story about a surprisingly eventful afternoon in her lab, when one of her classmate mixed the wrong solutions and caused several beaker glasses and tubes to explode. She laughed as she described how the professor kept telling everyone to be calm when everyone WAS calm already and it was him who was pacing in panic around the lab.

And he just cannot resist the urge to pull her closer. His face moved closer to hers while she was still laughing.

Their forehead met. She stopped laughing, her breath smelled like strawberry milkshake.

It was, indeed, a magical night for both of them.

107 days before…

People said that if it was too good to be true, then it probably is.

She realized she had been too attached to him. She knew she must not attach herself to anyone, she cannot take another heartache. She had realized that she had to back off, for her own sake and, in a way, his sake as well. But how could she? Everything was so very perfect. Everything was dreamy; it almost gave her fairy tale-esque buzz every time she met him. Those smiles she got every time she woke up in the morning after they went out.

And here came the baggage.

He had got a job in another continent and he will leave as soon as he finished his final project.

She had her own plan to pursue another degree.

She knew she would have a hard time, being the one who stayed. She would be the one who saw pieces of memories with him. On the bench near the pier, on the coffee shop in the library, on the high stools in the gelato bar by the park. It hurt and it would always hurt, even just a bit.

She knew they will not work out. She was lousy at long distance relationship. Yet she knew she do not want to lose him. And all they had.

She knew she cannot win the fight. But she refused to believe it.

Being such an overachiever almost her whole life, she believed she always wins.

She had not realized that the worst lie is the one you tell yourself.

89 days before…

He had fuzzy past she cannot decipher.

She had the difficulty to express her feeling.

The uncertainty kept him excited.

The vague future kept her unsure.

85 days before…

She cannot take it anymore. It will not work out. They will not work out, ever. She thought it will be better to just end everything now, before she got more and more attached. Attachment always leads to heartache, well, in her case anyway.

But she cannot lie to herself. She liked him: she liked his company, she liked his laugh, she liked how he smelled like soap and a dash of cinnamon. She did not have to put up her guard when she was with him, she could tell him everything. It made her feel less lonely.

And he was going to leave the city in three months anyway. For good. Although she never know for whose good.

The realization of having to let him go and the worry of being lonely kept conflicting in her heart and mind. Naturally, she kept the battle to herself.

She did realize that emotional battle tends to give horrible aftermath, but she never realized how until it was too late.

78 days before…

Her emotional outbursts were getting more and more often, each more severe than before.

He liked her a lot, but he was at the edge.

He was not sure anymore.

But then again, he was not sure of oh-so-many things.

53 days before…

She smiled at him as they walked on the bridge. His hand was holding hers and he was telling her about his latest project at school. She liked it when he talked about his school works: he was very passionate about his study and she liked the vibe. The day was perfect and she felt all the fairy tale-esque buzz again.

He felt her hand fidgeting in his and he stroked his thumb on the back of her hand. He really liked how she smiled more often now. It was tiring to keep up with her tantrums and outbursts, especially because he never knew what they were all about. When it was nice to see her all bubbly like this, he cannot help but wonder when this cheery laugh will stop and the waterworks started again.

She began to think that maybe, maybe they can make it work. Maybe she should tell him what all the outbursts were about. Maybe she was willing to fight for it. For them. But would he?

30 days before…

It was her worst outburst. And he did not have time to deal with it. He had to finish his final project which will due in 15 days.

She finally told him about everything. About what she wants, about what she thought he also wants.

What she never knew was he did not even know what he wants. He was not sure of what he wants.

But then again, he was not sure of oh-so-many things.

12 days before…

She began to lose her faith on them. On what they had and could have.

She fed up. She did not want to see him anymore.

5 days before…

He missed her. He was going to leave in less than a week. Will he ever see her again?

3 days before…

She contemplated whether she should meet him one last time. Everybody needs closure.

1 day before…

It’s that time of the year again, she smiled as she passed hurrying crowds who were doing their last minute shopping. It was hard not to be happy with almost everyone was smiling from ear to ear, little children wore little cute hats and antlers, and the smell of hot cocoa was steaming from the churros stall nearby. It was hard not to be happy with all the cheer and merriment in the atmosphere.

She stared at the glittering fairy lights all around the plaza in front of the city hall across the road as she waited for the green pedestrian light, when someone patted her shoulder.

“Want to have gelato? We can eat them when we’re watching the lights,” he said with his signature smile, a woollen hat stood jauntily on his head.

“Hey,” she smiled brightly; she always did that every time she saw him. He pulled her into a hug, and she let go rather hasty, “I’m a bit full but if you don’t mind sharing I won’t say no to a pistachio gelato.”

The pedestrian light went green, and they crossed the street. She waited when he queued for the gelato, humming to the tune from the speakers at the plaza.

Look how far we’ve come, she thought as she glanced at him, ordering their pistachio gelato, how am I supposed to know this, the first time we met?

She sighed.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit?” he said, a big pistachio gelato on his right hand and casually put his left hand on her shoulder. They sat on one of the benches, right below the line of fairy lights.

“I’m glad we can meet before I go,” he said and smiled at her.

She kept quiet, smiled at him half-heartedly.

“You seem quiet today, is something wrong?” he asked again, offering her the gelato.

She took the gelato, took a bite, and answered, “no, I’m good.”

He glanced at her and chuckled, “oh come on. You know you can’t ever lie to me. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

She sighed again, and looked rather tired.

“It’s just…,” she said after some time, “I’m so scared of being alone.”

“You’re not alone, you got me.”

No, you’re leaving tomorrow, she thought before answering, “that’s the thing, you know. I am way too attached to you. I cannot distinguish need and want, love and lust, admiration and obsession anymore. It’s not healthy, at least for me. I can’t rely on you forever.”

He licked the gelato quite some time, “why not?”

“Because you got her. Them. Everyone,” her voice weakened in every syllable and whispered the last bit, “I only have you. And at some point, you will forget me.”

He sighed. It’s the same old topic all over again, one of her outbursts topic, and he was getting tired of it.

“We both know it’s not working out. It won’t work out. You were the one who said it first, anyway,” he said as he took her trembling hand. He heard stifled sob yet he did not react. A guitar tune was playing from the speakers.

“What if you

Could wish me away

What if you

Spoke those words today…”

Her sobs got more audible, although it was quite covered by the song.

And the perfect song too, great, he thought as he put his face in his palms.

He sighed and embraced her.

“You know I will always care about you. There will always be a part of you with me. But… But we just want different things now. What if we think about what we really want first, so when we met again, sometime, we will be better for each other?”

She kept quiet.

“I might not be leaving

Oh so soon

Began the night believing

I loved you in the moonlight”

“I thought I am different,” she said, “I thought you really lo…” her voice tailed away.

He put his face in his palms once more, loss of words. He did, though. Once. Now he was not sure.

She had stopped crying and she stroked the back of his hand.

At least she did have him. She did have him back then; she did have him at this exact moment.

“I could’ve treated you better

Better than this”

“It’s getting late, let’s go home,” he said as he stood up and offered his hand to her. After all, his flight was quite early.

She kept her head down for a moment, then she took his hand and stood up beside him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m grateful that we did have what we had once,” she said at last, with glassy eyes and a smile. He smiled rather unconvincingly, wiped a teardrop on her cheek with his thumb, and hugged her before kissed the top of her head.

Then they moved slowly in circle as they embraced through the song.

“So, for tonight

I’ll stay here with you

Yes, for tonight

I’ll lie here with you”

(What If You – Joshua Radin)