I readied my eyes on the LCD screen, hoping to claim the reward that was gonna energize my lifeless body. The picture that was used to represent the photo album was a man having his arm over Siren's shoulder. A very good looking man. Celebrity grade. It wasn't the most outstanding picture, i wasn't sure if i was bothered by it because i felt like i wasn't. Yet. And all that was just because of my fantasy about not restricting her social circle if i had the power to. Note, a fantasy.
Proceeded to check the photos one by one. I imagined the excessive amount of pictures she taken and filtered carefully to be shown to the public. I imagined how she would differently pose and force the photographers to delete the awkward shots of herself. I imagined how she would rejoice and clap and laugh and then my imagination was broken by the close-up shot of that same handsome man. Due to the distance, his features are all made obvious. Pretty, but manly too. Have a charm of his own. Would live happily ever after if i were to turn gay and live with him. However, I was so tired back at that moment that i ignored my paranoia of him being an avid competitor.
The next pictures were more eye-catching - they were taken on a travelling boat. The wind casted upon her face flung her hair as if it has a life of its own and the surronding unified ocean blue portrayed her sharp features so fine that i temporarily forgotten that i was sleepy. Especially the one where her body was slanting outwards the boat and she was only holding on to the steel bars.
I kept scrolling, eager to see another Siren that could replace the impression that previous picture had left me. And so i saw that picture that dont have anybody tagged. I never saw her look any happier than that. It seemed to channel an indescribable radiation of comfort. She seemed to try her best to look her best at the camera and it was all done very naturally. Her whole body was leaning on him as if he was her pillow; both his arms were wrapped around her as if she was his bolster.
My eyes widened. I forgot that it was 5am in the morning. I forgot that i went dota just now. I forgot that i was walking like a zombie to my room and was so ready to sleep. I didn't believe what i saw, for the sole reason i didn't wanted to. Impulsively i hit the 'next picture' cursor. A picture with a similar posture of the couple materialised. And so i continued to do it again and it somehow felt safe to look at the pictures of herself without him but for the shortest measurement of time. I covered my eyes and rubbed them, wishing it was all but a bad dream and that i would wake up any time soon. But it wasn't.I opened them again and gathered a private amount of courage to revert to the pictures that dont have anybody tagged. Seeing is believing. I confirmed that my eyes werent playing tricks on me, my mind was. My eyes began to show signs of acceptance but my mind was still a retard, and this had contributed to myself to have an increased heartbeat rate. It was so silent that sound of the hum coming from the computer and the thud-thud coming from my heart were apparent. I thought i was too young to have heart complications but i wasn't sure anymore that i placed my hand over my chest to count my heart pace.
It felt normal for awhile. Then it felt as if it wanted to break free from the ribcage. But no, it was still, very normal, physically. And then it felt as if it was sliced and diced into shreds. But no, the fact that i was alive tells me that it was still in one piece. My stomach churned, i realised that i was awake for too long i was supposed to hungry. Or that i wasn't hungry at all. Repetitively i reminded myself of how normal i should feel. A little too late though, envy had manifested itself on me. The reminiscent. Seeping in unconsciously. Like a wound on top of another wound. And all that wasn't supposed to be painful. It never was....
****************( flashback)**************
The blaring music forced itself into my eardrums which never welcomed it. The air was filled with a mixture of the moisture of evaporated alcohol and cigarette residue. I was sandwiched between people, majorly strangers. They laughed and cheered and danced. They looked happy or they pretended to look happy. Each of them seemed to have interesting stories about themselves to tell but i never bothered to know due to them being strangers. The scacrity of free space somehow gave me a wee bit of claustrophobia. Comprehensible communications required shouting onto another person's ear that i gave up giving effort to talk. I felt like a Martian brought into Earth.
I was no longer a virgin to visiting clubs.
Her eyes werent swiveling around the area like mine's. She seemed to know what was supposed to be where because she's familiar with the place. Or maybe she wasn't curious enough. She trialed behind him. Because he was leading everyone else that wasn't a stranger to me. As easily lost as i am, i could only follow the crowd. Wasn't hard to do anyway.
I wanted to talked to her. Nothing effective came to mind. I blamed the harsh surroundings but it wasn't like i could say something that she would like to hear given a better environment. To look less like an alien, i moved my body at random motions trying to imitate what everyone else was doing - dance. It was my first time but it wasn't that awkward maybe because of the alcohol intake. And because of that too, i was less compelled to do as per thought. My eyes ignored everything else that didnt matter at that moment. Other random pretty faces. Even other random prettier faces.
Gracefully she danced. Maybe it wasnt graceful at all and i was just being biased. Nevertheless the way she moved seemed to make her look as if she belonged to the crowd. I closed in on her seeking leads to an invasion but her body language towards me was.. there wasn't any. Leads. At all. She then turned her back on me, probably to prevent me from studying her further. Trying to construct a conversation to inform her of my presence, i nudged her.
'zai zai?' (Steady?)
Gesturing the traditional good hand sign, i jolted my head nearer hoping she would give me an entertaining response. To my dismay, she never made any effort to turn around. Out of respect, her head angled itself to my line of sight and nodded with minimal attention. And fabricated a forceful smile that told me i'm better off saying nothing. For no reason i felt like biting off my tongue.
Perhaps it was the more popular music. Perhaps it was the boredom of staying in the same place for too long. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. We brought ourselves to the dancefloor. It was more packed but i kept her a safe distance away from myself. However, that distance wasn't safe enough to stop me from examining her.
She looked like she was enjoying it. Made noises that she usually wouldnt make under sober circumstances. Clapped and cheered when everyone else did so. Entertained the people who approached her to dance. Him particularly. I felt invisible.
He had his people to entertain too. Unintentionally temporarily he left her unguarded, susceptible to the danger of people by the likes of me. Cowardly i just stood there, reminding myself of all the signs being red. And saw another one of me, Shortstuff, making attempts of an invasion. It soured. To think that I'd being constantly and unsucessfully asking her out for the whole semester; and now, she was exchanging whispers with Shortstuff. Then he was all over her, then her hand reached out behind his head. I convinced myself to think that she was just balancing herself. Little did i know this was the effects of intoxication. As someone who never being to clubs, I wondered if this was norm or if this was supposed to happen. I wondered too, about what could i do if i was experienced in this. Because all i did and could do, within my capability, was, only, watch.
Zeroes to hero. Upon return, he protected her from Shortstuff. For a tiny speck of moment it felt relieving to see. Then it wasn't. Like a knight who have bested his nemesis, he claimed her himself. She willingly let him. They formed a tighter grip with each other. And it somehow became a romantic scene out of a movie where a couple dances and i was the only viewer who was concentrating on watching. After forever, we decided that we were tired enough to leave the dancefloor. I pretended that i didnt see that their hands knotted as we were walking away.
*
Outside the club. Waiting on the alcohol effect to wane. At one moment, she was beside me, leaning on the same wall. He stood opposite us, at my ten o'clock, a few feet away, leaning on a parked car. The wasted one made vows to herself that she kept breaking. A few of us tried our best to reply her. Boushbell was silent and only was silent beside me. In order to talk, she displaced herself to next to him.
The wasted one then made a joke that wasn't funny at all but it got Boushbell to laugh. She didnt laugh honestly, but she was expressing herself honestly. It seemed to be a vomit of her deepest emotions, that she didnt wished she had kept. It sounded melancholic, like she wasn't laughing with her stomach but rather she was making sounds from her heart. It sounded like an expression of her inner self that little would've understood, and laughing was just a temporary representative. As i am one of the ordinary many, I felt the distance between us, and the more i try to shorten it, the longer it became.
The toxic influenced conversation continued. Her head slowly found her way to rest on his shoulders. Naturally comfortably. I looked away. The street on my right filled with drunkards, rubbish, and Proton cars with spoilers seemed more panoramic.
*
He had to drop all of us back. As if my ego wasn't insulted enough, he rubbed some salt onto the wound by offering,
'you want me to drop you back first?'
Governed by my low sense of pride and a high amount of emotional distortion, i rejected. She lived somewhere along the way where my house and hers is, and my simple logic hanged while decyphering his offer. Little did i know he was protecting my eyes from the scene, obscene to nobody else but me.
Along the way, i remembered hearing no-more-tequila-for-ever, sorry-darling-i-promise-i-wont-do-drink-anymore, this is the worst headache i've ever gotten and from a different source, breathing, soft, but not soft enough to be not heard when there's a little mucus in her nose.
*Reached her house. She was too frail to walk back alone. He came to her assistance. She steadied herself on his sturdy body. He extended his hand over her shoulder to strengthen her stance. It seemed to have offered her a sense of security too. After making a few steps, she stopped. Her eyes failed to contain her tears anymore. He recognized and reacted to it by staying put, patting her back and waiting for the moment to pass. But the wait wasn't long, simultaneously their arms reached out for each others' backs.
And hugged.
I didn't to look at it as much as i wanted to. She seemed to have found her salvation. The shoulder to cry on. The sponge to absorb all the pain away. I complimented myself for not drinking so much because i would go on a boiling frenzy if i did. And reminded myself that i was in no position to be jealous. But failed miserably.
They released each other. However, the comfort she felt seconds ago caused her to irrationally yearned for more. Her tears kept rolling. She felt comfortable to let him see the vulnerable side of her.
They reformed the hug.
Ever get the confusing feeling from a watching horror film where part of you wants to watch it so badly while the other part of you tells you to close your eyes? It felt the same.
*
dont expect life to be fair.
****************************Christmas was never this dull. Antisocial was me. Going Gurney brought the possibility of bumping into her. No, them. Immaturely, i never wanted to see the truth as much as she never wanted to admit the truth. It was being quite some time since the testimonials, but recovering from minor wounds wasn't easy, as for me. Even a simple inquiry message from her seem to torture my sensitive and underdeveloped emotion, like pain.
'hey i going gurney with my friend you wanna come?'
I've heard rumours. From every possible source. She told me not to believe in them. Selfishly i wanted to. Making no sense, i forced myself to. I had made attempts to squeeze out the truth from her but to no avail. It was like having obvious cancer symptoms and the only diagnosis that was gonna convince me full-heartedly failed.
Just as i thought i was gonna be safe by being left in the dark, Friction sympathized me from his perspective and made attempts to get me out. He was aware of my situation, so i voiced out my anxiety of meeting them. And that i was gonna be a wet blanket if i tagged along. Righteously he got me to go by telling me the chances of meeting Akasha would be low due to the huge amount of people swarming around the area.
The length of my hair was long enough to almost fully cover my vision. I let it filter, although it occasionally tickled my eyes. I wondered why they wanted me around with them because i made the least bit of effort to socialize. My mind was blank and i failed as a friend because i wasn't thinking that i should treasure Friction and co.'s company even though i was in bad shape.
We loitered around meaninglessly like every teenager would at the time of their age. When cupid played me, i somehow disciplined myself to think that other prettier girls were not as eye-catching as Akasha. When cupid left me, the discipline didn't. I spend the whole time following the more familiar sneakers worn by the more familiar ones. I couldn't see myself back then, but i imagined myself to look like this low self-esteem kid who gets frequently ignored or bullied.Finally we decided to leave the place, and Akasha was nowhere to be seen yet - thankfully. I've heard from different gangs that she, with gaara was sighted somewhere around. For just only that short moment, i wished i was deaf. Then for the next, i wished i was blind.
Them. Their wrists bore the same fluorescent bracelet. Their hands wore each others' hand. Our eyes recognized each other's but mine was trying very hard not to. I guessed it never bothered her at all as much as it bothered me. I froze, and it felt like i swallowed my own heart. They stopped for her to say the usual hi-bye.
'i thought you weren't gonna come.'
I broke my record for raising my head to the highest angle on that day. And gave her the look as blank as infinity. And that alone was my respond. I didnt care if it was rude. I never thought that friends only could hold each other's hand so intimately. (Please understand that i suffer from mental retardation)
'let me introduce you to my friend, gaara.'
Still friend only? What i saw and what i heard didn't match. Even a moron could tell. I gave him the same cold look i gave her. He returned the favor. He probably recognized me from somewhere or someone's mouth. And that i no longer pose any threat. To look less like a sore loser, i forced out a faint smile. To look more like a sporting winner, he offered a handshake.
'and this is raggy.'His hand was like any ordinary hand except that it was very well built. It took me a few seconds to realise that i was supposed to return the handshake. Sometimes i wished we were Japanese because we could just.. bow.
Akasha realised that she had being doing the talking all the while and gave us the space to say something. We stood and stared in silence. As if i was raising the white flag, i waved goodbye, stiffly. Maybe they said goodbye. Or they didn't. I didn't pay attention so i didnt remember. We parted ways.
It rained before we reached our car. We had to shelther ourselves in the same area. I imagined how secure she would be resting on his hunky chest. I imagined how happy she would be laughing to his flirty jokes. I imagined how blessed he would be examining her little actions and expressions. I imagined how his heart would skip beats once she respond positively to his advances. I squatted in the corner hoping nobody would notice me. I wanted to disappear. A kindred soul came and patted me on the back. I didn't remember who. I remembered ignoring a few jokes that would usually make me laugh. I remembered that i was told that there were many other fishes in the sea but didnt remember who was the person who told me. Then the sky stopped crying. My heart started to however.
******************(flashback ends)*************
No, pictures shouldn't have more effect than having it seen live, right? The captured moment seemed permanent. Anyone would've hoped to look as pleasant as that forever. If i wasnt this selfish i would've being admiring how matchingly romantic they look. Like the usual happy ending of the usual chick flick. Or the lead picture of an advertistment bridal shops would pay millions for. Or a complicated piece of jigsaw puzzle, finally being put together in all the correct places. From a stranger's perspective, the pictures i'd taken with her seem to be dull, outcolored by what that were in front of my eyes now. I blamed the camera. and the scenery. and the cameraman. and all that was just to serve as an imaginary placebo, to an imaginary disease called jealousy.
I stared and stared and stared and realised my eyes were failing me physically and morally. Eventually i gave up staring and succumbed to sleeping. I was so sure that i was gonna sleep moments ago, but not anymore. The image seemed to appear on the ceiling, wall, pillow, and even on my eyelids. Logic, desire, emotions and assumptions entangled each other. Logic and assumptions told me that i needed to know. And give up. And cherish... them. Desire and emotions told me a different story. That i was the main character in a typical romantic film where the average village guy gets the happy ending. Or that this was all social. But the fact that she did upload those pictures manually told me that she wasnt afraid that people would know about herself looking as if she belonged to him. Needless to say, she didnt bother what would i think from doing that. But we took some pictures together like that, right? and ff#14-20. On the contrary, she looked more colorful on the recent picture. and ff#21-26. What would happen to the visit?
Irrational thoughts like going Australia and give her Epic and then return Malaysia at the same day surfaced. But what would happen to Epic itself? All my self-satisfying ideas showed its worthlessness now. I thought of Uncommon and didnt start it at all. I shouldn't bother her right? But it bothers me so much. I really wanted to sleep. I see the pointlessness in thinking of these. Then i didnt. Fantasies and wild imagination like the piano battle scene fom Secret (ff#17) came in but dissipated within seconds due to my zero knowledge and initiative about learning music. To console myself at the very same moment, i told myself that she wouldn't just pick a guy because he was more superior in music, but the person as for the person itself.
The recurring image of them demoralised me again. I compared our faces secretly and felt like hiding mine inside a brown paper bag. How long did she know him? I hoped it wasn't long. Then somehow i hoped it was because of my ego. How old is he? I hoped he was younger than her. Then, again, somehow i hoped he wasn't because of my ego. Would he treat her nice, long term? I don't know what to hope for, sincerely.
Then all the feather fragments visited me. And those less interesting ones that i didn't include in the feather fragments. Then i came across the thought that i was just thinking in circles, everything i think of was just a repeat of things i have thought before and i would be as tired as awhile ago to sleep. Yes, to sleep. It was easy. Really. Just five more minutes. Then i wouldn't be aware of dozing off.
The next thing i know i heard the morning bird called. I would fall asleep any time now right? I would. Yes, i would. Pianist. With Siren. Sleeping is healthy. Siren looks healthier with Pianist. Don't think of anything! Count sheeps. One, two, three, four, five, six, siren, eight, nine, pianist. Okay not working. I checked the time. Seven. Eight thirty. Nine. Siren should be awake at 1-2 pm right? Eleven would be the time i call her, i decided to myself.*
Eleven. I told myself i'm the bravest man in the world. VIIIXIIIIIIVVIIIIIVIIIO. I thought i was nervous but i wasn't. Maybe because of the lack of sleep.
'i saw the facebook pictures.. who's that guy?'
'oh... a friend lo. keke'
'what's your relationship with him? you like him?'
tbc..
p.s: if this violates you (boushbell and akasha) in any way, feel free to tell me to take it down.
1 comment:
a sad...but nonetheless touching post...
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